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6. Golden
Jira sat at his desk, rolling his gold coin across his knuckles. A shisha smoked in the corner, the aroma of tobacco and sweet apple filling the silk draped office. His last days had been peaceful, but a new client was due to arrive, so the dusk-skinned figure was taking a moment to prepare.
His job was by no means difficult, it was however, exhausting. The bell above his door jingled as a young man dressed in threadbare clothing walked sheepishly inside.
Taking a drag from his pipe, Jira levelled a gaze on him. "What do you wish of me?"
7. Drip
Melanie opened her eyes. A blurry white room and a constant sound.
Drip.
Where was she? How did she get here? Her head hurt as she tried to think back.
Drip.
The city. The last thing she could remember was that beautiful view, and the pain.
Drip.
Pain inside and out. Her mind a prison of hate. She just wanted to make it all stop.
Drip.
Air, rushing past. The wind in her hair and the feeling of freedom.
Drip.
Now she felt nothing. The tube in her arm filling her with liquid relief. Was it all over now?
Drip.
8. Toad
The jungles of Switsoombala were famous for their unusual megaflora and megafauna. Few who ventured there were heard from again, but those who returned were heard throughout the world.
Pablo Escarlo was by no means a world class explorer, he was just a man with an abundance of time and an absence of bearing. Having spent most of the last week avoiding mosquitoes the size of house cats, the sight of the enormous yellow eyes before him, each as tall as himself, chilled him to the bone. The creature opened its mouth, the sound it made shaking the jungle. Croak.
9. Bounce
It's these moments I will always cherish. When you were smaller than a teddy bear you would fall asleep rocking on my chest. As you got bigger I bounced you to sleep, dancing around the living room. As you continue to grow I will always be here, a shoulder to cry on, arms to rock you. Holding you close to chase the tears and fears away. And when my arms fail me and my back groans, I will still hold you, still bounce you. For you will always be my little girl, and I will always be here for you.
10. Fortune
Wisps of incense wafted through the tent. Candles burned low, keeping the shadows deep as Calasandra stared down from beneath her hooded cloak. A crystal ball sat idly to one side, making space for the tarot cards that had been spread across the table.
This was of no concern to Calasandra, her vision stretching beyond the confines of this moment. She watched in silent horror at the atrocities her client would commit, all in the search for love.
Slipping a blade from beneath her dress, the fortune-teller focused on the boy before her. “You will do great things…” she whispered.
About the Creator
Nick Cennamo-Smith
I'm Nick Cennamo-Smith, the author of the Mortzeel's Lost & Found series, along with a collection of short stories.
I am currently working on the continued series, hoping to expand the world and mysteries in which my story takes place.
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