You have a seat at the table

The iron chains rattled as the heavy links dangled from the gnarled, twisted old oak. My wrists were peeled, cracked and dripping blood down my forearms and in between my clenched fingers. Every bone in my body ached with agony.

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Out of the wilderness

We went into the wilderness without Him. I don’t know what I was thinking. We all knew there were people dying in the wilderness every day. Their hollow and broken cries echoed up the deep ravines and dry riverbeds, bouncing against the stone hewn walls of the ancient fortress that sat just at the foot of the great northern mountains.

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A new chapter for the blog

Something I find so much more meaningful to write instead of blogs about a current life experiences, is to instead take those experiences and rewrite them as a creative short stories. I am saying this because I’ve decided to make this blog primarily about short stories now. I know many of you have sent me messages or left comments in the past asking me to write more of this type…

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The Defender

I rolled out the dusty, crinkled and weather-beaten old battle map with a tired snap. Dust exploded in a small gust of tiny granules throughout the air of the tent. The map unrolled slowly outward across the round, oaken table. My captains and lieutenants circled about, wide shoulders hunched over in grief, armor beaten and dented in, crimson blood smeared across their stalwart faces and muscled arms. I could see…

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The blazing eyes of a king

My sword dripped blood. I gripped the leather strap on the inside of my cracked and chipped shield, dragging it beside me. The bones from wrist to my shoulder ached from the tension and strength it took to keep my shield steady through every attacker’s onslaught. I gratefully sat my shield and sword against a heavy boulder on the edge of the battlefield and painfully sank onto the soft earth…

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I will go

It was the drumbeat, slow, steady and heavy, vibrating up from the depths of the mountains, echoing off the stone valley walls. It bounced and thudded and hammered through the atmosphere towards the sky. A second rhythm followed, quieter but faster than the first. The pounding of a thousand pairs of feet, racing up the cleared paths on the mountain slopes. The runners faces were set like flint, eyes burning…

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Am I Not Enough?

‘The oaken doors were heavy, engraved and stretching far above my height, the iron ringed door handles each bigger than my head. I set down my sword, shield and armor on the white marble courtyard floor. The metal and iron clattered loudly, rolling against the nearest pillar. I dropped my shredded and blood stained cloak across it and took two steps towards the doors. My heart pounded against my rib…

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The Mountain

Once there was a village, a quite small village compared to most, and it sat at the bottom of a great mountain. In this village lived many children, of all ages, who had lived their entire lives in this village and were delighted to always live here. Every day they danced through the gardens, played with their sheep and sang songs together in the village square.Far above them, at the…

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Battle Field

The wounds were deep and gushing blood. Agony was beginning to blind the strength of my sight; in my weakness the sword slipped from my sweaty palms. I fell to my knees on the trampled battlefield…

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The objection to fairy stories is that they tell children there are dragons. But children have always known there are dragons. Fairy stories tell children that dragons can be killed.

G.K. Chesterston

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