Driven

By

Julie O

The little girl with the auburn pigtails moved silently down the passage in the dark tower keep. She was noticably small.

Actually she is full grown its just that she is a gnome. She is dress all in dark leather that is well oiled. Her intent is simple she is hungry and she knows that the mage of this tower has some food. Not that conjured food like her sister makes. Its ok has no taste and you get hungry again after awhile. No real food like fresh sweetened goats milk, or Roasted talibuk. The thoughts of such foods made her almost drool.

******Warning: I made myself cry writing this chapter******

Myamar Vison

18 years ago………..

Lord Everett Carl Stewart Envoy of his majesty King George.

Dear Evert,

I see know why his majesty placed this great responsibility in your hands, If anyone was born to be a diplomat it was you.

I have acted a fool. That it was in defense of my handsome son, now by stunning daughter is but part of the explanation, not an excuse. That I drank more than was prudent is also to my shame.

"You're traveling through another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind; a journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of the imagination. Next stop: THE TWILIGHT ZONE." - Rod Serling

***

He was mesmerized by her youthful beauty, but not as you may think. He didn't want to possess Samantha as a lover might, he wanted to become her, stepping into her life completely. Unfortunately, a simple wish whispered, isn't as always as perfect as it may seem. At least, not one that has been granted inside the boundaries of... THE TWILIGHT ZONE.

Dear Colleen,

First I must express my deep shame at being unable to prevent father from sending off that unseemly note to your mother. I should have been able to intercept that foul missive. Mother had warned the household staff to intercept all correspondence until father's anger had subsided but not all of the family servants are loyal to mother and I. Father is an imposing figure of a man and wields strong influence over many in our house. As Lord he was within his rights. But no man is without faults and we failed him in this time of difficulties.

I’m sure I was blushing profusely by now from the embarrassment. And why was I talking to her like she was my boss or something? I didn’t even know her.

“Why don’t I walk him back there instead. I’d like to ah…” She paused and looked me over once more. “Talk, with him in a more quiet setting. Would you like that, dear heart?”

“Yes, please.” I don’t know why I said that. I guess it just felt right at the time. I grabbed my guitar and followed her around the bar towards a door, watching the gentle sway of her hips as she walked. I’ve never felt more like a puppy on a leash, to be honest, but she seemed so pleased with it that it was just too hard for me to be angry about it.

Dearest Cousin Francis

The dressmaker and your maid are blind! My mother can assure you I am not graceful. Nor am I beautiful, although I do appreciate the compliment. Mother is forever on about a lady carries herself like so, eat smaller bites, put your hands in your lap. It is never ending. All the things I am to learn to be a proper lady and do, in truth, long quite painfully for our old days. I am jealous of your womanly curves, although I am not quite sure why.

The Tramp

A Short Christmas Story by Tanya Allan

I first wrote this in 2007, but thought it would be appropriate to submit it here for you at this festive time. This is the first Sunday in Advent, so my prayer for you all is that your wishes come true... eventually!

It was the night before Christmas, Andy was kneeling on the end of his bed with the curtains open; his nose pressed against the windowpane. It was snowing, so he was watching the view from his bedroom window transform itself from the usual vista of fields and hedgerows into a white paradise.

Through the near infinite reaches of space-time, a single shaft of power pierces multiple realms, connecting them so close to instantaneously that the difference cannot be measured by anything less than a god. And when something this powerful punches a hole through a group of realities, something is bound to get pulled into its wake.

Or someone, as the case may be ...
 

“Come,” she said playfully, “I have no romantic illusions about my own brother — I know perfectly well she loves you a hundred times better than you deserve. If it were any other woman, I would try to discourage her by telling her embarrassing stories about you, but Launuru already knows them all, so I'll just have to accept your good fortune.”

Launuru hated herself for her cowardice as soon as she'd run away, but was too ashamed to go back. It was too late to fix things; she'd gambled her relationship with Verentsu, hoping to turn friendship into love, but now she'd made such a mess that there was probably no way they could go back to being friends.

In another part of the kingdom a woman gets up from a deep sleep. She moves to her writing table, sits down and using the sharp tip of the quill blade pokes her thumb. She then allows 5 drops of her blood to mix with the ink pad which she then grinds for some ink for the quill. Choosing a suitible square cut vellum she draws intricate circles and lines which magically disappear into the vellum. Next she carefully puts runes and letters all over which also disappear into the vellum. Putting aside that vellum she chooses a new vellum and writes a series of letters. When done the extra ink is washed away and the two parchments are rolled one over the other. She then moves to the door and opens it a few inches to hand out the parchment to an asleep page who takes the parchment and moves on his way. Thus done the woman returns to her bed unaware of what just happened.

For all this was done without both the woman, who is actually a priestess, and the page ever opening their eyes once.

I sat alone on the little park bench and contemplated the chance that had been offered to me. Slowly rolling the golden wish coin between my fingers. It had passed into my hands earlier that week but I really had nothing I wanted, I was pretty successful, and fairly wealthy... even in my advanced age.

The only thing I could have ever improved upon is my utter loneliness, up until about 10 years ago that too would have been far beyond my needs. The day that I lost my beautiful wife of 63 years was the day that I died as well. I frowned and looked at the remarkable coin, If only it would have come sooner... maybe I could have saved my dear wife.

Darn muses and their insistance on writing.. now if only they could keep their musing on one story at a time.. sigh

I don’t know if there is a contest for this or not. It just came to me while I was about to lay down for a nap. May need a bit of editing, and maybe a bit more added, but this is most of the story.

It was late, very late. He parked his old car for the night. Although it was a silver car, you couldn’t tell as it was mostly orange with rust. You could hear the tinkle of the engine cooling, as he fiddled with the plug for the car. If it wasn’t plugged in all the time, it would not start.