Short Story
Unraveling - Part 2
Unraveling - Part 2 - A Broken Souls Short Story Mind numbing. Boring. Tedious. Rambling thoughts of how he would topple his brother raced through his mind, as Martin sat at the other end of the board room. He tapped his pen. Clicked it. Rolled his eyes. Huffed. He glared at his brother, Sam, while he presented the latest financial numbers.
By KA Stefana 3 years ago in Fiction
The Gray Church - Part 3. Content Warning.
The Gray Church Part 3 ‘Help me out, please.’ The voice from under the car said. It was such a fragile and scared voice. I looked down at the hand and saw wrinkled fingers and a wrist so small I could wrap my own fingers around it.
By Marysol Ramos3 years ago in Fiction
Not Forever
Soon he would say goodbye, doubtful his first taste of love would wait; boarding on the longship would begin at sunrise after two more night falls. He was not at ease nor feeling dutiful to set sail, his rough, calloused hands had been assigned to row, his grey eyes already set on defeat. In the chilly night he and his lover kept warm under a sheath of tanned hide; a warm fire encircled with stones lit up their faces. His lover was cold, she had been sweating earlier and she shared with him that perhaps she was carrying his baby. It had been six moons since her last cleansing. He held her close and rubbed her hands in his own. All night he stayed up, keeping the fire crackling and he called for a wise woman to look at his betrothed. He was given garlic for his neck and a tonic that tasted bitter as nettles to sip. He must prepare to board the longship and not fall ill. The woman wiped carefully with cool cloths the forehead and the nape of his lady's neck and said she should be moved to the women's tent so he too might rest. He was reluctant yet never questioned this miracle of her gifts from the God's and believed in the sunrise of his departure his love would encircle him with the other strong women and sing a prayer to the heavens. At last he fell asleep and the fire dwindled. He was a large man, of long height with a wooly red beard; for years he had been called to help others lift heavy logs, roll stones and fell trees for boat building. His stomach grumbled and his dreams brought him no peace. His eyes closed, his mouth agape, a gurgling snore erupted. Deep within his dream state he saw his own mother, her pale white face, her eyes weary yet loving; she spoke. "Son of Gudrun, son of Ove, lift your spirit up to see. It's been eighteen moons since we saw you. Your sister Ulla is here, too. Their faces were like a portrait in beautiful pastel inks. The heavens were soft as the first spring day when the sight of white and purple forest flowers burst through the edges of the footpath, gay as the laughter of friends when the sun was long in the sky, days were easier, their heart's lightened by the dark winter's end. Time for merriment and the smell of baking bread, the homecoming of the longship, strong fermented ales and hearty stews and loaves of bread with berries he could taste so sweet; stirred he woke with a gasp. One sunrise had come. He stood and walked to the women's healing tent and the flaps were sewn shut with thick leather. "Naaaaay", he screamed and he ran to the morning fire keepers boiling coffee and sharing porridge. Breathless, he asked if his lady was in the tent still. Blue eyes looked at one another and down. He knew the answer. He kicked the first iron pot and it swung from it's iron chains molted flawlessly by the black smith and his apprentice. Hot scalding water splashed and the men jumped back. An old man who laid on sheep skin by the fire called for him to sit by him. His heart rapid, his cheeks red with rage, he succumbed to his elder. " What can you say to comfort me?" The man, thin and weak voiced motioned for the giant, frightened man to sit beside him. "Are you the son of Gudrun and the sister of Ulla?" The old man already knew but asked even so. "Ya, I am." Do you think, son of Ove that your father created such acts of arrogance when the God's called his wife and daughter up?" Silence. "What name did they leave you?" "I am Per Ove's son."Well Per Ovesson do you dare to guess the will of the heavens? Are you in fear of the sea and hunger? Are you a messenger or do you serve?" " I serve." The so very big man, Per, son of Gudrun and Ove, brother of Ulla wept. The elderly man handed Per a smooth stone to rub and called for porridge. The big man, the thin elder and the fire keepers stood close. One by one they placed a hand on his shoulder and walked on. Night fell again and he laid by his fire alone sipping the bitter nettle tea. He did not want to dream and the silence soothed him. It had been nine cut logs when a woman he'd never seen came to stand before him. "You may see your lady now". His lips felt numb, his eyes ashamed and he said, "Why do you want me to feel more pain?" The woman outstretched her hand and he stood. When they came closer to the tent the woman lifted the flap and there lay a clump of deep red flesh upon his lover's abdomen. He moved closer and felt confused. Take the flesh and all of it's blood and bury it deep in the forest. His lady did not breathe and small stones were on each eye. He did as told by the healer. Without sleep and it being soon the second sunrise he fought to keep focused on his task. Big tears from a big man with the heart of a child fell steadily down his face. When he returned he went to his fire to sleep and there sat the woman again with a white bundle of heavy fur. She stood and handed him a baby. "How can this be? My lady only missed two moons." The woman smiled and said, "the God's were good" and asked him to bestow a name before he sat sail. In a state of both sorrow and beauty he said, " this is the son of Per, the son of Lea. He shall be blessed with the name of Liam." The woman promised him the babe would be well fed and when he returned the baby would be his comfort. Per kissed his son's forehead and slept with him in his arms until sunrise. The healers had prepared Lea's body to be sent to sea where she would be taken up to the God's quickly. He held one side of his love's canvas and birch sewn raft. He did not weep for she had left him reason to believe that more would come to be good. The women sang as the longship prepared to launch. The sky was yellow and afire with sunrise. The horns blew and he pulled in unison with his mates. By sunset they placed Lea on her raft and she floated away from the boat, away from the father of Liam, the son of Ove, the son of Gudrun and the brother of Ulla. In the night the high waves plunged over the stern and wailed upon the starboard, the longship albeit strong rocked with brutal fervour. Per was the lead, each pull he thought of Liam, each horn he heard his mother calling. The God's were trying his strength in a way he never had experienced, he was not only strong in his body now but also in his soul. The storm settled and he was sent to rest. A cool wind soothed his sweaty bruised hands and his lips cracked from the salty winds from the North Sea leaked sweet bits of blood. His thirst was mighty and he was given water with herbs to keep him quiet. His cough came on fast, deep and he heard other's coughing, too. He spat green, thick phlegm into the sea. He hung his head over, the winds cooling his dizzying state. The head of the ship was also spewing a sickness from his body over board. Few men could guide the longship, and one by one they fell, coughing, wailing in pain, and now hope had no place for them. Another night would come, a morning with many deaths and each one was set free to float amongst the creatures that both fed on them and nourished their loved ones. Per Ovesson would be the last man to go. He ensured all were met by the God's who knew better than he the true meaning. He would fall into a deep, long sleep, he would dream of Lea, mother of Liam and he would die proud as his father had bravely done before him. He drifted off further to sea and the sky above would open it's arms and his soul would rise up, up, up into the arms of Ulla.
By ROCK aka Andrea Polla (Simmons)3 years ago in Fiction
Echoes of Conversations
In a quaint town nestled between rolling hills and murmuring streams, there existed an old, weathered cafe named "Echoes." Its name derived from the peculiar quality of the place - conversations seemed to linger in the air long after they had ceased. It was said that if one listened closely, they could hear the echoes of past dialogues, whispers of love, arguments, and laughter.
By Samir hosny3 years ago in Fiction
The Unlikely Victory
In the heart of a small town nestled between rolling hills and sprawling fields, there stood a weathered old stadium. Its wooden bleachers creaked with age, and its paint peeled in patches, but every Friday night, it came alive with the energy of the townsfolk who gathered to cheer on their high school sports teams.
By Samir hosny3 years ago in Fiction
Serendipitous Encounters
In the heart of the Aegean Sea lies the enchanting island of Santorini, a place where azure waters meet towering cliffs adorned with whitewashed buildings. It was on this picturesque island that Sarah found herself one summer, seeking solace from the chaos of everyday life and hoping to uncover a sense of serenity amidst the cobblestone streets and breathtaking sunsets.
By Samir hosny3 years ago in Fiction
The Lighthouse Keeper's Love
There once lived a lighthouse keeper named Arthur in the charming seaside town of Winslow, where the waves whispered secrets to the shore and the lighthouse stood as a guardian of tales. Arthur's lonely life was only broken by the steady dance of the lighthouse beam. He devoted his life to guiding sailors home, with a heart as big as the ocean.
By James Dorcas3 years ago in Fiction
The Quest for Fulfillment
In a quaint village nestled between rolling hills and lush forests, there lived a young man named Aiden. Despite the beauty of his surroundings, Aiden felt a profound sense of restlessness deep within him. He yearned for something more, something that would bring meaning and fulfillment to his life.
By Samir hosny3 years ago in Fiction
The _ost Office
The building looked invisible. No passers by went inside. Their eyes slid off it as if it wasn't really there at all. "Hello! Anybody there?" My voice rang in the gloomy, cramped space. Silence answered. There's a counter, a cashier's seat behind a screen, and a ledger. It's a post office, look; there's the scales for weighing parcels, and a case of stamps. Nothing is locked. I lift the hatch, walk through, and prod the till. The coins are old. The notes too; they crumble at my touch. The door beyond opens into a larger room with rows of lockers. Grey-green vines curl around some of them. A broken door swings, desolate. At the back, drawers are stacked floor to ceiling. I open some. Letters spill out on to the floor, which is so thick with dust it's like a plush grey carpet. My feet hardly make a sound or a dent on it. In the corner, a door with a "STAFF" sign. Another room like the first, and another, and another. Vines getting thicker, greener. One of the drawers overflows with bobby pins, another with keys. There are several bursting with lonely socks, and one with glass eyes rolling around. A suspicion niggles. I know what this place is. It's the Lost Office. More rooms, more lockers, more vines. A familiar cat with grey and ginger markings winds round my ankles. A dog snoozing in a basket raises his head to watch me. His tail thumps. Next, a corridor lined with doors, each painted with a dense family tree. Perhaps I won't need to examine each one, looking for a name. Maybe he'll come out to find me, like the cat. My heart should be thudding, my eyes leaking and my breath ragged... but I feel hollow. I hear his voice at last, echoing down the corridor. I'd forgotten it, which is unbelievable. He comes into focus as though stepping out of a mist, and his face creases in a smile at the sight of me. I was worried my arms would go through him, like a ghost, but he feels realer and more solid than the last time I hugged him. "Am I lost, too, then?" "No, pet," he says. "We're both found, now."
By L.C. Schäfer3 years ago in Fiction
