Chapter 3

Chapter 61: Segregation for Power

Royal Decree of Queen Yuqi

To all dragons of every class and clan:

CHAPTER 12
That really sealed the evening for us, but it left Amina silent in the cab home, which was unusual for her. She did the usual pottering about once we were home, putting away a few bits of crockery, then just led the way upstairs. It wasn’t until we were both settled under the duvet that she started to talk once more.

“I am so, so glad I’m not like those girls, love”

The house smells like garlic and rosemary when I push through the door, gym bag on my shoulder, the t-shirt still damp at the collar from the shower. No bra underneath - the sports bra is in the bag with the soaked sweats, and I didn't put it back on, just pulled the t-shirt over bare skin. The cold outside made itself known on the walk from the cab.

The heat was the first thing.

Mark Lansing never wanted to stand out. He was perfectly happy disappearing into a football huddle with the rest of the team until one play made him the talk of the town. Thrust into a spotlight he never wanted, every choice can reshape his future, and every decision could transform him in ways he never believed possible. Mark’s destiny will be determined on the field … assuming he can figure out how to dress the part.

After the unexpected turn of events with the interview, Sarah had asked why Malachite had chosen the name. Colour Sergeant Grant answered with a slightly skewed smile.

“Malachite is spiritual it means the essence of joy. I believe the stone helps to bring personal growth and has benefits when a person decides to change.”

Chapter 32 - Epilogue

After the previous poem, this appeared overnight in an odd sort of backlash. Have fun!

In the morning I get up.

Not immediately — I lie still for a moment first, the way I've started doing, taking stock of the day before it begins. The chest there, the weight of it against the mattress, familiar now in the manner that things become familiar when you've woken to them for over a week. The mild awareness of last night's underwear, which has done what underwear does now, the slight damp of it, and I get up and deal with this in the bathroom before I do anything else. The mechanics of this have become unremarkable.

I shower. I dress.

I've been lurking here for a long time but writing fiction is not my thing. Recently, in the comments of a story, CindySadnya mentioned that she found me very good with words and hoped to check what I've written here, and this got me thinking. While I'm still convinced that my mind is not built for writing stories I might nevertheless produce something that people here would consider worth reading. So, let's try this mood piece about days long past.

Bob and Tessa’s Place, Ocean Front Condo, Virginia Beach, Va.
Bob looks over towards Tessa, who was sound asleep on their bed. They just got back from California last night. Dr. Jessica Blake was successful in transplanting the reproductive organs from Tessa to his body, without any problems.

This story is a sequel to a story I wrote several years ago, "To the Mana Born." Readers are invited to revisit the earlier story (already here at Big Closet) to find out about what's gone on before.

“Damien, it is nice to see you again. I had hoped that it would be under better circumstances.”

“Thank you, Mrs Thompson.”

“Paula, please.”