It's almost midnight.
I quietly climb up the stairs to the rooftop. There is a little garden of flowers, now they are starting blossoming. I inhale deeply the sweet scent of them, crossing my arms across my chest. The air is cold but refreshing, it starts to calm my mind and I slowly stare up at the sky.
It was my father who first taught me about the stars and constellation. I used to climb up a banyan tree beside our house, then jump at the roof. Dad also used to say that it was dangerous for me to go to the roof at night, but when I capriced to him to teach me the names of stars, he couldn't deny me. It's a moonless night, yeah, there is my favorite star, Rigil Kentaurus. I sigh again, watching the large constellation Ursa Major. Why am I sighing? Shouldn't I be happy tonight? Is something bothering me?
"Watching stars?" a male voice says behind me, his footsteps approaching. "Tonight it has a nice view, I see."
"Where is Lucas? Did he leave?" I ask him.
Storm drops himself on the floor beside me, leaning at the railing, then pulls out a bottle from his coat pocket. "Hm-mm. I haven't seen him since he was talking to a guy, drinking, actually their eyes were talking, fingers lightly touching," he opens the cork. "Don't you think that he left with that guy? Enjoying a hot night with him?"
"What guy?" I frown at him.
"C'mon, Ced. I get it that he's your friend, but he's a big boy, isn't he?" he pats the floor beside him. "Have a drink with me. Trust me, I'm not the world's worst company," he puts off his coat and spreads out it on the floor.
I look down at him for a while, then sit on his coat. "I know you're not."
"You almost sound apologetic," he laughs, then gives me the wine. "Hey, do you see what is it in the bottle? Can you see me?"
"Huh, of course I see. There's enough light from the stars," I inhale deeply the smell of the wine. "It's red wine, old," I take a long sip.
"From the wine cellar. Twenty years ago's. I already told Grandmother and she said I can have it," he chuckles gently, seeming to be a good mood.
"Did you go to the family meeting?" I'm slightly curious about what happened in there.
"No," he lits a cigarette, his face looking sweaty at the match fire. "You know why, you said it yourself. I'll never be a fucking Praisly, eh? I do not belong here."
I glance down at my phone, it's midnight.
"Happy birthday, Storm," I say to him.
"Thank you!" he tilts his head to me surprisingly, "How did you know that it's my birthday?"
"Guess I have a good memory," I take the cigarette from him. "Since it's your birthday, can you answer me a question, Storm?" I take the smoke deeply, puffing out.
"What is it?"
"Can you tell me what were you talking about with Uncle Jason?" I stare at him. Jason Praisly is the eldest brother of my father, one of the my least favorite persons in this world.
He stares back at me, then places the wine bottle other side of him. "The door ahead of you is closed from outside, Cedron," he whispers into my ear. "There is nobody else, except you and me, and some inert flowers and the night sky above our heads. Guests are still downstairs, dancing, drinking, pleasing each other wildly in bed. Your parents already went back to their house, your that homo friend too and Grandmother thinks you're happily sleeping in your childhood room," he says coldly, watching me intently for an answer.
I smile bitterly, "Oh, that's great."
I look away from him, biting my lips hard. So, this is how it is going to end, huh? All of this? All of my moments, my happiness, my sadness, my memories? A tear falls from the corner my eye. Why are you crying, you silly boy? You can't cry, remember?
"Why does it have to be you?" I say, looking into his blue eyes. "Did he think a familiar face would take all the pain away? Did he think your face would comfort me? Did he think that I would be your biggest birthday present ever of your fucking life?"
"Uncle Jason is one of the seven Protectors, maybe you didn't know," he whispers, taking my hand. "He just wanted me to learn a lesson at my twenty-seven year. He has to protect all of us, Cedron, and you're one of the obstacles. He wanted to make it quick and less painful for you, as you're his niece."
"Do you think Aunt Pearl will ever forgive you, Storm?"
"She will never know, Cedron."
"Can I see it?" I whisper slowly.
He pulls out it from his pants pocket and drops it on my open palm.
Oh, here it is.
The golden colored bullet is carved by my name, 'Cedron'. Suddenly, yes God, suddenly I don't feel anger boiling in my inside anymore. I feel a hole, an infinite, vast hole, emerging in my mind like wind, taking all of my sensations away, shattering them, breaking them, annihilating them. A voice strongly whispers a psalm in my head,
"My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever."
"You didn't see that coming, did you? You should have," Storm slowly pulls out the revolver from his waist, exhaling sharply. "I want to__ I want to say sorry to you, but perhaps I better not, right? What's the damn point of apologizing when I am going to kill you, ah?" He stands up, pointing the gun at my head.
Are you with me now, God? Don't you see my own family wants me dead?
I stand up, too, making up my mind.
"Any last words, Cedron Praisly?"
"I want to tell you a little story, Storm, which you don't know fully," I take a deep breath, smiling at him. "I used to know a girl once, she was like my big sister. She had thick, curly red hair all over her head, an amazing shiny smile which made everything around her shining, too. She used to tell me things about you," I wipe the corner of my eyes. "She told me how you spent your time with her, how you talked with her, how you cared about her. She was your cousin, too."
"Don't," he warns me, his hand shaking.
"When she died, I started to watch you. I watched you for months, watched you sitting in front of her grave, reading her aloud your journals. Then, I realized," I chuckle, standing so close to my death. "You weren't an utter beast, you know? You loved her. And you thought nobody knew that about you, but see? I knew. I have known all along these years."
"You're ruining your last living moments by saying a bullshit story, Cedron," he cocks the gun, breathing heavily.
"Her name was Megan," I draw a crucifix over my chest. "Storm, I want you to look into my eyes, just my eyes, no blinking and remember our childhood. Your childhood. The moments you spent with your love, the moments full of herself."
"This ain't going to work on me," he yells at me, yet he's crying hard.
"Okay. But you're crying, you coward. Even though you refuse to admit that you loved her. How would she feel if she was here now, huh? And you're also a coward because you can't pull the trigger, Storm."
"SHUT UP, CEDRON!" he yells again.
I put a hand on the railing. "Death is going to come for me, for all of us, I know that. Death will come for me whether I want it to come or not."
He grips the gun tightly, grimacing.
"But not now," I jump off the railing.
It's almost midnight.
I quietly climb up the stairs to the rooftop. There is a little garden of flowers, now they are starting blossoming. I inhale deeply the sweet scent of them, crossing my arms across my chest. The air is cold but refreshing, it starts to calm my mind and I slowly stare up at the sky.
It was my father who first taught me about the stars and constellation. I used to climb up a banyan tree beside our house, then jump at the roof. Dad also used to say that it was dangerous for me to go to the roof at night, but when I capriced to him to teach me the names of stars, he couldn't deny me. It's a moonless night, yeah, there is my favorite star, Rigil Kentaurus. I sigh again, watching the large constellation Ursa Major. Why am I sighing? Shouldn't I be happy tonight? Is something bothering me?
"Watching stars?" a male voice says behind me, his footsteps approaching. "Tonight it has a nice view, I see."
"Where is Lucas? Did he leave?" I ask him.
Storm drops himself on the floor beside me, leaning at the railing, then pulls out a bottle from his coat pocket. "Hm-mm. I haven't seen him since he was talking to a guy, drinking, actually their eyes were talking, fingers lightly touching," he opens the cork. "Don't you think that he left with that guy? Enjoying a hot night with him?"
"What guy?" I frown at him.
"C'mon, Ced. I get it that he's your friend, but he's a big boy, isn't he?" he pats the floor beside him. "Have a drink with me. Trust me, I'm not the world's worst company," he puts off his coat and spreads out it on the floor.
I look down at him for a while, then sit on his coat. "I know you're not."
"You almost sound apologetic," he laughs, then gives me the wine. "Hey, do you see what is it in the bottle? Can you see me?"
"Huh, of course I see. There's enough light from the stars," I inhale deeply the smell of the wine. "It's red wine, old," I take a long sip.
"From the wine cellar. Twenty years ago's. I already told Grandmother and she said I can have it," he chuckles gently, seeming to be a good mood.
"Did you go to the family meeting?" I'm slightly curious about what happened in there.
"No," he lits a cigarette, his face looking sweaty at the match fire. "You know why, you said it yourself. I'll never be a fucking Praisly, eh? I do not belong here."
I glance down at my phone, it's midnight.
"Happy birthday, Storm," I say to him.
"Thank you!" he tilts his head to me surprisingly, "How did you know that it's my birthday?"
"Guess I have a good memory," I take the cigarette from him. "Since it's your birthday, can you answer me a question, Storm?" I take the smoke deeply, puffing out.
"What is it?"
"Can you tell me what were you talking about with Uncle Jason?" I stare at him. Jason Praisly is the eldest brother of my father, one of the my least favorite persons in this world.
He stares back at me, then places the wine bottle other side of him. "The door ahead of you is closed from outside, Cedron," he whispers into my ear. "There is nobody else, except you and me, and some inert flowers and the night sky above our heads. Guests are still downstairs, dancing, drinking, pleasing each other wildly in bed. Your parents already went back to their house, your that homo friend too and Grandmother thinks you're happily sleeping in your childhood room," he says coldly, watching me intently for an answer.
I smile bitterly, "Oh, that's great."
I look away from him, biting my lips hard. So, this is how it is going to end, huh? All of this? All of my moments, my happiness, my sadness, my memories? A tear falls from the corner my eye. Why are you crying, you silly boy? You can't cry, remember?
"Why does it have to be you?" I say, looking into his blue eyes. "Did he think a familiar face would take all the pain away? Did he think your face would comfort me? Did he think that I would be your biggest birthday present ever of your fucking life?"
"Uncle Jason is one of the seven Protectors, maybe you didn't know," he whispers, taking my hand. "He just wanted me to learn a lesson at my twenty-seven year. He has to protect all of us, Cedron, and you're one of the obstacles. He wanted to make it quick and less painful for you, as you're his niece."
"Do you think Aunt Pearl will ever forgive you, Storm?"
"She will never know, Cedron."
"Can I see it?" I whisper slowly.
He pulls out it from his pants pocket and drops it on my open palm.
Oh, here it is.
The golden colored bullet is carved by my name, 'Cedron'. Suddenly, yes God, suddenly I don't feel anger boiling in my inside anymore. I feel a hole, an infinite, vast hole, emerging in my mind like wind, taking all of my sensations away, shattering them, breaking them, annihilating them. A voice strongly whispers a psalm in my head,
"My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever."
"You didn't see that coming, did you? You should have," Storm slowly pulls out the revolver from his waist, exhaling sharply. "I want to__ I want to say sorry to you, but perhaps I better not, right? What's the damn point of apologizing when I am going to kill you, ah?" He stands up, pointing the gun at my head.
Are you with me now, God? Don't you see my own family wants me dead?
I stand up, too, making up my mind.
"Any last words, Cedron Praisly?"
"I want to tell you a little story, Storm, which you don't know fully," I take a deep breath, smiling at him. "I used to know a girl once, she was like my big sister. She had thick, curly red hair all over her head, an amazing shiny smile which made everything around her shining, too. She used to tell me things about you," I wipe the corner of my eyes. "She told me how you spent your time with her, how you talked with her, how you cared about her. She was your cousin, too."
"Don't," he warns me, his hand shaking.
"When she died, I started to watch you. I watched you for months, watched you sitting in front of her grave, reading her aloud your journals. Then, I realized," I chuckle, standing so close to my death. "You weren't an utter beast, you know? You loved her. And you thought nobody knew that about you, but see? I knew. I have known all along these years."
"You're ruining your last living moments by saying a bullshit story, Cedron," he cocks the gun, breathing heavily.
"Her name was Megan," I draw a crucifix over my chest. "Storm, I want you to look into my eyes, just my eyes, no blinking and remember our childhood. Your childhood. The moments you spent with your love, the moments full of herself."
"This ain't going to work on me," he yells at me, yet he's crying hard.
"Okay. But you're crying, you coward. Even though you refuse to admit that you loved her. How would she feel if she was here now, huh? And you're also a coward because you can't pull the trigger, Storm."
"SHUT UP, CEDRON!" he yells again.
I put a hand on the railing. "Death is going to come for me, for all of us, I know that. Death will come for me whether I want it to come or not."
He grips the gun tightly, grimacing.
"But not now," I jump off the railing.
Another point of view."Open cell forty," the officer shouts at the walkie-talkie and with a disgusting sound, the cell bars-door is opened.Mahone steps in the cell"Close cell forty," behind him, the fat officer shouts again and the door of this tiny, sultry cell is closed again. Mahone puts the white clothes in the edge of the lower bed, then glances at the man lying on the upper bed. The man is less older than fifty, not so big in his body, but he can't see his face, because his back is turned to himDear new cellmate, Mahone utters silently, then drops himself on the single bed. Who knows what kind of criminal you are. A psychopath? Child abuser? Sex defender? A murderer? Or maybe, if God helps, a drug dealer? He sighs and puts an arm below of his head, shutting his eyes"Why aren't you in juvenile prison?" a deep, gentle voice comes from the upper bedMahone lifts himself up, "Who are you?He hears a chuckle in rep
Somebody is brushing hairs from his forehead. Then nudging his shoulder."Cedron, wake up," a voice tells softly.A female voice.He is feeling confused. There's no female person in their home. Then who is it?He tries to open my eyes, but can't, because sunlight is hitting me. Who the hell opened the damn curtains of the damn window?He raises his hands to cover my eyes, but something is in them. Something muddy.Wait...I'm not in home, am I?"Cedron," that voice tells again.I snap my eyes open.A sharp face welcomes me.I adjust myself in a seated position, glancing around. Who is this girl?Shit!He squints at the sunlight, not feeling as panicked as others should be."Who are you?" He looks at her blue eyes.That was a wrong question. He should have asked, "Where am I?""I can ask you the same question," she replies cooly.&nb
I lay behind my back, before the boat, and into darkness I must row. I rowed with weak arms, watching my hands to make sure I kept hold of the oars, for I could not feel my grip. I came thus into rough water and the dark, out on the open Gulf. There I had to stop. With each oarstroke the numbness of my arms increased. My heart kept bad time, and my lungs had forgotten how to get air. I tried to row but I was not sure my arms were moving. I tried to pull the oars into the boat then, but could not. When the sweet light of a harbour patrol ship picked me out of the night like a snowflake on soot, I could not even turn my eyes away from the glare.They unclenched my hands from the oars, hauled me up out of the boat, and laid me out like a gutted blackfish on t
Somebody is brushing hairs from his forehead. Then nudging his shoulder. "Cedron, wake up," a voice tells softly. A female voice. He is feeling confused. There's no female person in their home. Then who is it? He tries to open my eyes, but can't, because sunlight is hitting me. Who the hell opened the damn curtains of the damn window? He raises his hands to cover my eyes, but something is in them. Something muddy. Wait...I'm not in home, am I? "Cedron," that voice tells again. I snap my eyes open. A sharp face welcomes me. I adjust myself in a seated position, glancing around. Who is this girl? Shit! He squints at the s
She was grubbing for vegetables in a dead man's garden when she heard the singing.Arya stiffened, still as stone, listening, the three stringy carrots in her hand suddenly forgotten. She thought of the Bloody Mummers and Roose Bolton's men, and a shiver of fear went down her back. It's not fair, not when we finally found the Trident, not when we thought we were almost safe.Only why would the Mummers be singing?The song came drifting up the river from somewhere beyond the little rise to the east. "Off to Gulltown to see the fair maid, heigh-ho, heigh-ho . . . "Arya rose, carrots dangling from her hand. It sounded like the singer was coming up the river road. Over among the cabbages, Hot Pie had heard it too, to judge by the look on his face. Gendry had gone to sleep in the shade of the burned cottage, and was past hearing anything."I'
It's almost midnight. I quietly climb up the stairs to the rooftop. There is a little garden of flowers, now they are starting blossoming. I inhale deeply the sweet scent of them, crossing my arms across my chest. The air is cold but refreshing, it starts to calm my mind and I slowly stare up at the sky. It was my father who first taught me about the stars and constellation. I used to climb up a banyan tree beside our house, then jump at the roof. Dad also used to say that it was dangerous for me to go to the roof at night, but when I capriced to him to teach me the names of stars, he couldn't deny me. It's a moonless night, yeah, there is my favorite star, Rigil Kentaurus. I sigh again, watching the large constellation Ursa Major. Why am I sighing? Shouldn't I be happy tonight? Is something bothering me?"Watching stars?" a male voice says behind me, h
I lay behind my back, before the boat, and into darkness I must row. I rowed with weak arms, watching my hands to make sure I kept hold of the oars, for I could not feel my grip. I came thus into rough water and the dark, out on the open Gulf. There I had to stop. With each oarstroke the numbness of my arms increased. My heart kept bad time, and my lungs had forgotten how to get air. I tried to row but I was not sure my arms were moving. I tried to pull the oars into the boat then, but could not. When the sweet light of a harbour patrol ship picked me out of the night like a snowflake on soot, I could not even turn my eyes away from the glare.They unclenched my hands from the oars, hauled me up out of the boat, and laid me out like a gutted blackfish on t
"Ah...."Celandine observed the man curiously who just came out from the chamber, going downstairs. She noticed the small hand batch on his black robe, wondering what that might be meaning.Suddenly everything around her changed.They traveled dawn to dusk, past woods and orchards and neatly tended fields, through small villages, crowded market towns, and stout holdfasts. Come dark, they would make camp and eat by the light of the moon and the lamps. The men took turns standing watch. Celandine would glimpse firelight flickeringthrough the trees from the camps of other travelers. There seemed to be more camps every night, and more traffic on the kingsroad by day.She somehow knew it was a dream.Morning, noon, and night they came, old folks and little children, big men and small ones, barefoot girls and women with babes at their breasts. Some drove farm wagons or bumped along in the back of ox carts. More rode: dra
Moriah opened his eyes, blinking at the light. Everything around him was white just like vast space, except there wasn't darkness. All around the place was so bright, but there was nothing except him as if he was floating on there alone, in the middle of nowhere. 'What happened? Where am I?' He slowly lifted his head up, it was pounding like a hammer. Of course, he found it slightly ridiculous that he was sitting on nothing or perhaps on an invisible seat. He should have been scared and worried and felt lost, but since he was unaware of those feelings, he became wary. "Slept well?" A female voice made his head jerk to the other side. Moriah grimaced. Hadassah muttered something under her breath, and the next moment he fell from that place. He opened his mouth to scream, but the air was rushing him down, he could feel the unbelievable weightlessness of him. He squeezed his eyes shut, a second later he heard the desperate shriek which could be his own voice... Crunch!
She was grubbing for vegetables in a dead man's garden when she heard the singing. Arya stiffened, still as stone, listening, the three stringy carrots in her hand suddenly forgotten. She thought of the Bloody Mummers and Roose Bolton's men, and a shiver of fear went down her back. It's not fair, not when we finally found the Trident, not when we thought we were almost saf Only why would the Mummers be singin The song came drifting up the river from somewhere beyond the little rise to the east. "Off to Gulltown to see the fair maid, heigh-ho, heigh-ho . . . Arya rose, carrots dangling from her hand. It sounded like the singer was coming up the river road. Over among the cabbages, Hot Pie had heard it too, to judge by the look on his face. Gendry had gone to sleep in the shade of the burned cottage, and was past hearing anythi "I'll steal a sweet kiss with the point of my blade, heigh-ho, heigh-ho." She thought she heard a woodharp too, beneath the soft rush of the rive "Do you h
"Ah...." Celandine observed the man curiously who just came out from the chamber, going downstairs. She noticed the small hand batch on his black robe, wondering what that might be meaning. Suddenly everything around her changed. They traveled dawn to dusk, past woods and orchards and neatly tended fields, through small villages, crowded market towns, and stout holdfasts. Come dark, they would make camp and eat by the light of the moon and the lamps. The men took turns standing watch. Celandine would glimpse firelight flickeringthrough the trees from the camps of other travelers. There seemed to be more camps every night, and more traffic on the kingsroad by day. She somehow knew it was a dream. Morning, noon, and night they came, old folks and little children, big men and small ones, barefoot girls and women with babes at their breasts. Some drove farm wagons or bumped along in the back of ox carts. More rode: draft horses, ponies, mules, donkeys, anything that would walk or ru
The morning air was dark with the smoke of burning goods. The old dry wood and countless layers of paint and varnish blazed with a fierce hungry light. Heat rose shimmering through the chill air; behind, the gargoyles and stone dragons on the castle walls seemed blurred, as if Moriah were seeing them through a veil of tears. Or as if the beasts were trembling, stirring . . "An ill thing," Hadassah declared, though at least she had the sense to keep her voice low "Silence," said Moriah. "Remember where you are. They were heading to the Garde Hundreds had come to the battle gates to bear witness to the burning of the Battle of Blood. The smell in the air was ugly. Even for soldiers, it was hard not to feel uneasy at such an affront to the gods most had worshiped all their live Moriah was thinking about his ancestors. They had overturned the altars, pulled down the statues, and smashed the stained glass with warhammers. The old Hand could only curse them, but Ser Hubard Rambton led
The drapes kept out the dust and heat of the streets, but they could not keep out disappointment. Dany climbed inside wearily, glad for the refuge from the sea of Qartheen eyes. "Make way," Jhogo shouted at the crowd from horseback, snapping his whip, "make way, make way for the Mother of Dragons." Reclining on cool satin cushions, Xaro Xhoan Daxos poured ruby-red wine into matched goblets of jade and gold, his hands sure and steady despite the sway of the palanquin. "I see a deep sadness written upon your face, my light of love." He offered her a goblet. "Could it be the sadness of a lost dream?" "A dream delayed, no more." Dany's tight silver collar was chafing against her throat. She unfastened it and flung it aside. The collar was set with an enchanted amethyst that Xaro swore would ward her against all poisons. The Pureborn were notorious for offering poisoned wine to those they thought dangerous, but they had not given Dany so much as a cup of water. They never saw me for a qu
xlq_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 Francisco, USA September, 2016 Mahone tightens the knot of his black tie around his neck, then fixes the collar of his coat. Actually, suit-coat always makes him feeling uneasy, but since it's a mourning day, he can't go there with his usual outfits. It has been three days since Garrett Greenham died. His daughter Samli
"I don't recall as we did." Giant was no more than five feet tall-his true name was Bedwyck-but a fierce little man for all that. "Slayer, did you ask Craster for his counsel?" Sam cringed at the name, but shook his head. He filled another spoon, brought it to Bannen's mouth, and tried to ease it between his l "Food and fire," Giant was saying, "that was all we asked of you. And you grudge us the food "Be glad I didn't grudge you fire too." Craster was a thick man made thicker by the ragged smelly sheepskins he wore day and night. He had a broad flat nose, a mouth that drooped to one side, and a missing ear. And though his matted hair and tangled beard might be grey going white, his hard knuckly hands still looked strong enough to hurt. "I fed you what I could, but you crows are always hungry. I'm a godly man, else I would have chased you off. You think I need the likes of him, dying on my floor? You think I need all your mouths, little man?" The wildling spat. "Crows. When did a b
"Mr. Jeong, are you okay? You suddenly seem.... distracted." "I-I'm...fine, it's.... fine," Sung-ho answered somehow, his hands were shaking because of that ugly memory. He pressed his hands together forcefully under the desk, ignoring the pain running through his nerves Choi Dea looked at him with slight worry, wondering why he was sweating so hard. After he explained everything what happened with her sister and him, even though she wasn't sure whether it was truth or not, her expression softened a bit. She also noticed how he had reacted when she had mentioned his father Shi-woo. So she assumed that the relationship between Mafia son and father might not be good "Thank you for your explanation about Joo-eun," she said after a moment. "And I would prefer if you don't tell about this incident to anybody. Ever. Sung-ho frowned a little. "Urm, sure. She glanced at the bracelet again which her friend had given it to her when she was little. Even though she couldn't remember that,
Samlin Greenham "I told Emilia about the real you," I pull out a grass from the ground, watching it closely. "I don't like lying to my best friend.""It's fine," the corner of his mouth moves up as a smile. "As long as she doesn't spread that I'm twenty-four years old and didn't even finish college. In the meantime, it's cool."I laugh, my eyes focusing at the sky. You might wonder where I am now. You do remember Alone Five, the tiny mountain, right? Like that, this place is Alone Two, a strangely beauteous fountain, it has a pretty little garden in front of it, full with wildflowers. And that's where I'm lying on, my mind is peaceful, quiet, Lynn is beside me. I inhale deeply, feeling the smell of flowers and fresh air and leaves of the trees."My eyes aren't burning looking up at the sky anymore. Maybe it will rain," he speaks in a low tone, then places his arms under his head. "Someday the sun shines so bright, so my eyes hurt, but I can't seem to pull my gaze from the sky.""Y