Short Story

“And mark this. Let either of you breathe a word, or the edge of a word about the other things, and I will come to you in the black of some terrible night and I will bring a pointy reckoning that will shudder you.”

“They used whatever strength they had left to cry. Why had they let themselves be brought here? Why didn’t they die in their beds? Their words were interspersed with sobs. ”(35)

it is life, Mama!” Mama: “Oh—so now its life. Money is life. Once upon a

"Your life continues because you have been spared the mines. You are given food and shelter in exchange for laurels in the arena. Do not forget that. And do not raise your weapon to any of the men in jest. One day you could be fighting with him at your back, to find your only ally would see you dead just as readily as your opponent," Livia coldly reminded him. Her cheeks were a bit flushed from anger though it could easily be dismissed as the heat of the morning sun, or the honeyed wine she drank from in a polished

A kind of delight that Ramses no longer thought himself capable of tugged his heart and Ramses eagerly found a Myksosian two-handed sword in the prince's weapon collection. Once on the vases, Ramses discarded the sheathe and beckoned for Prince Cyrillus to attack. When their swords met for the first time, Ramses said, “Perhaps you feel uncomfortable because you think I am a tool your brother will use against you."

“Zeus, it’s a disaster in the underworld. Men who got killed by Odysseus is coming to see me everyday explaining how innocent they are.” Hades said with a tired voice. The conference room was now very loud with different god and goddess talking about this issue.

The stake glimmers in the rising light. It’s clean now. I washed it the same time I washed my clothing. The blood didn’t wash off my shirt though. I look at my reflection in the blade. I haven’t seen bruising on my skin in the reflection, but that doesn’t mean it’s not there. I finger my neck again. It’s sore to the touch. I couldn’t see my reflection well in the water’s tint, but in the knife’s reflection, I can almost pretend the gold colors are from the metal alone.Last night’s nightmare is still behind my eyes—of the terror of Alexis inside the statue—not dead, but dying of starvation. I shudder. I slide my fingers along the transition from dark brown polished wood to gold. My cheeks flush and my lip curls as I think back to me begging Midas and sobbing. I can’t remember the last time I cried. An intrusive image of my mother’s cross and her shallow grave flash through my mind. I mentally vault away from it.“Chrys?” I almost drop my it at Amaru appearing at my side. I stand and shove the

One of the soldiers searching the bodies came over and darted a nervous glance at Ramesses before he reported to Aloysius with a shake of his head. The soldier's mouth formed the words, zero casualties. After dismissing the man, Aloysius walked up to Gilbert and the sniveling captive, saying, "No luck? Let me borrow your knife."

His eyes glowed like embers on a campfire. “You are a vile little creature, aren’t you. How dare you interfere with my plans. You’ll pay for this with your life,” he growled, raising his hand. I started to spin around, and the room began a blur of gray. Steadily my speed increased and soon I was spinning so fast that I felt sick. I wrapped my arms tightly around my sides and shut my eyes. Finally I slowed down and came to a stop. I opened my eyes and threw out my hands, just in time to stop myself from plunging face first into my dresser.

She jerked awake, alert, frightful, pale blue eyes darting around as if she expected to see the faces of soldiers closing in on her once more. The wagon she occupied was blissfully empty, however; for what it was worth. She eased only slightly, her sleeping mind and its dark memories receding as recollection resurfaced and she remembered where she was. Like a frightened, feral animal she was curled into the farthest corner of the enclosure, her knees tucked up against her chest and encircled by her arms, while her wrists were securely shackled by a distinctive blue alloy. Her legs and arms were littered with abrasions, her bare feet and ankles still stained with the blood of her sisters, evidence of the massacre that had occurred only a day or so prior. The linen shift she wore had once been a pristine nightgown, but was now dirty and ripped in several places, the collar torn so much it exposed the naked skin of her right shoulder and draped almost low enough to sacrifice what remained of her

Delphi shook her head, ignoring her familiar. “We need to talk. I didn’t mean to cast an enchantment spell. I’m here to set you free.” Delphi’s hands trembled. She pulled her spell book out of her purse. “I’m sorry I’ve bound you.”

His aorta was hanging down from his chest, from where his heart was, like a long, thick, sallow hollow tube, cut loose and swinging to and fro inside his belly, like a pendulum. I saw it with my own eyes, but I did not want to believe it—how could one submit to such a repulsive act? It was not important who he was or how unlucky he was to be the one in the midst of this chaos, they just wanted his money. I did not see who actually cut this man open, but the mob sure made it their priority to search him for every treasure on his body: a watch, a ring, money, anything greed desires, yet there were only bandages lying under his carcass. I must have missed the scurrying of the shoeless damsels and brutes wandering around aimlessly, almost like a well, oiled machine, around and about the great square, ultimately running to torture this man. We called them Runners, running around uncontrollably like all the muscles in their body’s contract and restrict involuntarily forcing them to push forward no matter

and saw her mom and sister, in their own bikinis. Smiling, she placed a handful of sun screen on her legs and rubbed it in, she continued up to her chest, neck, and face. Offering her sister, the bottle. Taking off her bikini top, she laid face forward, so her sister could place some lotion on her back, and places where she could not reach.

Vaius ignored him as the room spun and screeched, threatening to knock him off balance. His face throbbed and ached and he just wanted to catch his breath. It didn’t matter long, however, as a powerful force impacted his left cheek, snapping his head to the side before he slumped to his knees. His consciousness threadbare, Vaius’ swollen eyes strained to stay open as he attempted to focus, but his vision blackened as a final strike cast him into oblivion.

The smattering of rain on the roof overhead calms me, beating out an irregular rhythm like an anxious child unconsciously tapping his foot. The dim glow of my phone screen washes over me as I wait for the light to return, cut off by the flash flood inducing rain. I look around, and sigh; yet again, the lights on the ceiling are blank, leaving me with nothing to shield myself from the impending darkness.