Ramberto Torruella
Bio
I was a sailor of ships and leader of men. Now I am a memory quickly fading. I have no regrets. I lived well, married lucky, and raised a good family. Now, in the autumn of my life, I write so as not to be forgotten. Mihi fortunam spera.
Stories (3/0)
The Time Merchant
Manfred stood uncomfortably hot in the middle of the dusty African kraal. Behind him stood his tall, dark assistant dressed, like Manfred, in European clothes of the time period, entirely inappropriate for the African heat. In front of him sitting cross-legged on a short stool, was a middle-aged man of tightly controlled energy, tall and dark with sinewy muscles and not an ounce of fat. The man sat resplendent in leopard skins and black widow bird feathers adorning his waist and loins. White oxtail hairs fluttered on his biceps and thighs as he lazily beat away flies with an oxtail whisk; the motion only hinting at the constrained vigor in his eyes.
By Ramberto Torruella2 years ago in Fiction
Subscribe to my stories
Show your support and receive all my stories in your feed.
Send me a tip
Show your support with a small one-off tip.