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Shadow Dance Ch1 I had been laid down on a cot or bed, I couldn't tell which, with bandages over my injuries, I thought because of the pain and limited mobility from one of my arms. I opened my eyes to find that my right arm was bandaged up and I could feel some bandages around my stomach area. I was in a church, great. One of the last things I needed was to be in a church when I was injured. My reason for disliking churches is because I'm not human; I'm a demon so I tend to be a little weakened in churches, unless I am welcomed by the people who commonly go there or more accurately by the priests of said church. I sat up just as a gentleman in his fifties came in; black, muscular, blue eyes, grey hair, five foot ten inches, wearing the white, red and gold robe of one of the church's priests, Father Randle.
"Easy Mercy, you were injured pretty bad when two of our Paladins carried you in." Randle said in a southern accent as I slowed myself while sitting up until I wa
TimeTime is a mysterious thing. Time is then, now, future, and past. Do we ever learn from the past or are we bound to repeat it? Is the past something that can be erased like writing on a chalk board? The past is haunting destroying the minds of soldiers decades after the events transpired. Is the future something that can be gambled like money or possessions? Or is it as predictable as predicting life on planets in our galaxy? Now is it something you'll remember like your first kiss or will it deteriorate with the sands of time? Is it possible to have something invisible be real? Gravity is invisible but real. So the question of time is is time real or just a figment of our imagination? Time is mysterious and left to the unknown to decide what it is.
Little Miss It“Do you enjoy her company?”
That, Avadaci concluded, had been the extent of his grandfather’s kindness. Thank the stars he had broken his neck after a failed attempt to ascend the castle staircase. Not that many were privy to this information. The official listing on the cause of death involved something along the lines of falling in battle after slaying at least a dozen demons, although this was treated with quite a bit of skepticism by the general populace. Yet, interestingly enough, a decent portion of the locals believed a tale about the cannibals of Unkhtom devouring him whole.
Not that Avadaci really cared how his grandfather had died. He was just glad he was dead. And if he was glad his grandfather had died, Avadaci wondered, why did he have to attend his funeral? In fact, the whole kingdom was glad his grandfather had died. Why did they have to attend the funeral?
“Oh Avad,” proclaimed his mother, “obv
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