On Luka's desk sat a heavy white envelope.
"Jessica, who left this envelope."
No reply. Luka flipped the envelope over and saw a blue wax seal with the
crest of his father's family. His father had walked out when he was five.
Curious, he broke the seal and pulled out a handwritten letter. He fought to
understand the convoluted message. As he got to the end of the letter, he
began laughing manically.
Tragedy had struck the most evil man he'd ever met, and now the second
most evil man had inherited the millions.
He was rich.
About the Creator
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also pledge your support or give them a one-off tip, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Keep reading
More stories from Yvonne Glanville and writers in Fiction and other communities.
Timothy
My fingers inch closer to the keyboard, itching to obliterate a day's worth of work. It's some of my best writing I've done to date, but at what cost? The words seem to bleed, dripping onto my desk. For a millisecond, I'm sitting in front of a crime scene, looking at dead, begging eyes. Why? Why me?
By Alexandria Stanwyck7 days ago in Fiction
A rainy day
Once upon a time in a quaint little town nestled between rolling hills and whispering forests, there was a girl named Emma who adored rainy days more than anything else in the world. Her love affair with rain began when she was just a toddler, sitting by the window with her mother, watching raindrops race each other down the glass.
By SAIFUL ISLAM NEZAMIa day ago in Fiction
His Haibun
He does not like poetry; I write it anyway and do not tell him. It's true his face is not a poet's face. It is round and open, youthful; too apt to be compared to the sun. His nose is neat. It is impossible to imagine him smoking a cigarette, terse, full of cheekbones and tension. His warmth burns my fingertips. I am here for his fascinating body, the haphazard freckles I touch one by one; he is here for my eyes, just my eyes. A sunbeam sneaks through the curtains and pierces us both, sizzling the spices of his skin. I inhale and wrap myself in him. He kisses my eyes.
By TheSpinstress6 days ago in Poets
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.