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Happy readings!
Showing posts with label romance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label romance. Show all posts

Friday, 29 July 2011

The Black Rose (novel) : Chapter 8

Chapter 8 – Resolve


“I want to know what’s up there!”, she had hissed through clenched teeth. She just couldn’t understand why Ann didn’t want to support her theory that someone in the house attacked Julian. “Who?” She asked. “I don’t know.” She replied, acknowledging her partial defeat against her will. Why did she feel like she’d already lost the debate?
“Of course you don’t. Why and how, Eliza? Why would anyone do that, especially Henry and Hawkins.”
“I don’t know.”

Saturday, 23 July 2011

The Black Rose (novel) : Chapter 7



Chapter 7 – Attack


Being in the depressing mansion did not seem to lower Ann’s spirits at all. On the contrary, Ann woke up more cheerful every morning. Eliza wondered why the castle had no such effect on herself. Her friend seemed more at home in it than she did.

Saturday, 16 July 2011

The Black Rose (novel) : Chapter 6





Chapter 6 – The sleepover


The singing of the birds, the rushing and rustling of the leaves in the wind made her more at ease. A chilly breeze soothed her skin as she made her way up the hill. Nevertheless, she was reluctant to go back to that house. It seemed even more of a cage now she had been out with the free birds. She shrugged slightly and went in.

Friday, 8 July 2011

The Black Rose (novel) : Chapter 5

Chapter 5 – the encounter


She held two tops up and tried to determine which to wear.
“What do you think?”, she asked Ann.
“They’re both black.”, Ann replied with a quick glance while reading a fashion magazine on the bed now her schoolwork was done.
“Maybe that’s just the colour of my soul.”, Eliza said mockingly.
“As if!” Ann laughed while Eliza dodged the pillow aimed at her.
They laughed aloud and dropped down on the bed to listen to some music. Ann turned the volume up a few notches. “Nothing like some party music to get into the mood.”
“Right.” The first party in months! Eliza only wished she actually wanted to go. Perhaps she just hadn’t digested all the ghost stories yet, even though she liked a good dose of horror. It does make a difference if it’s set in some distant movie studio or in your own house... But she was resolved on enjoying herself, on command if she had to, for Ann’s sake and for her own.

Saturday, 25 June 2011

The Black Rose (novel) : Chapter 4


Chapter 4 – The alliance


She banged the door shot and sighed. Another week gone by with nothing in it for her but school, reading, sleeping and more school. The “village” was a bore, she knew hardly anyone in it and she could forget about diversion in her explorations as well, since the attic was guarded continually by Henry and his watchdog by the time she got home.

Tuesday, 21 June 2011

The Black Rose (novel) : Chapter 3


 



 



Chapter 3 – the village
Si sta come
D’autunno
Sugli alberi
Le foglie
(“ One is/as in autumn/on the trees/the leaves”, ‘soldati’/’soldiers’ by Giuseppe Ungaretti, translation as found in Harrison, ‘dominion of the dead’, p. 125)


Her eyes flung wide open. It took her a minute to realize that she was staring at the ceiling and then another to recognize the annoying beep in the background as the alarm clock. She turned to look daggers at it, but as the thing refused to explode she extended her arm to the fullest to reach it. No more denying it was already morning...

Saturday, 18 June 2011

The Black Rose (novel): chapter 2


Chapter 2 – The attic
She startled and woke from the depths of sleep at midnight. What had woken her? She could have sworn she felt... It was storming, of course.
No wonder she couldn’t sleep. The winds were no soft whisper like home, they roared and howled and made the walls whistle and the floors creak. For a moment she doubted the strength of the bricks that were her shelter, but they had sheltered others for hundreds of years.
Still, the cracking and squeaking kept her from going back to her sweet slumber. Or had it been sweet at all? The imprint of the dream was already gone. She rose and strolled towards the window. It was pouring, rain pattered the glass with a merciless vigour. Thunder seemed creepily close by and so did the forked lightning that tormented the land below her dark ivory tower.
Even the fierceness of nature has its splendour. Yet there was a restlessness outside which caught on and stirred up her inner agitation. She felt trapped. At least the tempest was free, a privilege she had not. She fixed her eye on the horizon instinctively, but what was that to her? Where would she go? To view another skyline and long for that one. The horizon was a myth, though a lovely one.
She picked up a random volume from the pile of books on her desk, something to clean up in the morning, and opened it at an arbitrary page.

Friday, 17 June 2011

The Black Rose (novel) : Intermezzo chapter 1-2 (first dream sequence)


A thick fog surrounds me. I don’t know where it comes from, smoke seems to whirl up from every side. It wells up from below my feet, from the walls, the ceiling, it’s choking me!
I stumble to the door, it has to be here, how many steps have it been? I can’t find it. It’s damp in my mouth, my throat. I’m coughing, but every gasp brings in more mist and no air. My lungs fill up with dew, it feels like drowning.
I can’t see. Where am I? I reach and hold my hands out like a blind person, but the room is empty. Help! I shout as loud as I can, but there’s no reply. Help! Can’t anybody hear me? Please! My desperate calls echo in the silence and are then swallowed by the nowhere around. I’m all alone.
Slowly, the mist lifts a little. I start to discern vague contours. There is something rectangular ahead of me, I can see it shimmer in the distance, as if it is beckoning me to it.
I creep closer, is it a door, a portal? I can only see the same thick white mist ahead of me as I leave it behind, like I’m walking on clouds. I crash into something hard and touch my forehead. It hurts.
I feel the cool glass as it dawns on me; I can’t see my own face in the mirror.
A pale hand, white and cold as the fog, forms out of the glass and two cold fingers touch my temples and caress the side of my face along the cheekbones.
I gasp.

Tuesday, 14 June 2011

The Black Rose (novel) : Chapter 1




CHAPTER 1 – The Castle/New Beginnings
“In the middle of our life’s path I found myself in a dark forest, where the straight way was lost.”
Dante, Inferno, Canto I, verse 1-3


She looked up at the thing looming high before her and shivered. It was nothing like she had expected, it was worse, much worse. The same look was in her brother’s eyes. She clasped his hand and squeezed it reassuringly, with as consoling a smile as she could possibly muster. With a heavy heart, they mounted the hill.

Saturday, 11 June 2011

The Black Rose (novel) : Prelude

This one is another unfinished project I've been working on since I was about fifteen and that I never got around to finish. It was a bit too much to handle with my skill at the time, so I could start the novel, but I couldn't push through the challenging bits. I've been reworking it (with long, sometimes year-long lapses, like the one since I lost rewrote it, long before I came to blogger) ever since.

It's pretty low on the to do list for the time being (the things on there always shift about, depending on the circumstances, I'm afraid I have no control whatsoever over that), so I won't be making it more decent anytime soon, but I decided - very much against previous incentives - to post it. Especially since I'm too busy to get a lot of short stories up during the exams. I'll schedule the parts I've got (which is at least 80 pages or so), one a week. I don't think I'm going to read over them first and bear in mind that they're imperfect drafts, but what I'd like is for you to tell me what you didn't like about it. I'm aware of the flaws, especially that it gets pretty long-winded at times and that the whole could and should be smoothed out considerably - a legacy from its early birth, I guess - but I'd like to map out just when, where and why it spins off, so I can take it into account while rewriting it, when I get around to it.

I wasn't keen on sharing this. I don't think I ever even thought of putting it up, until today, all of a sudden, so here's the first part. Enjoy!

Friday, 7 January 2011

Dance, 2

We come across a nice, cosy, informal cafe. It’s nearly empty and there’s a candle on every table. Perfect!
I hold the door open for her. So many beautiful tables shrouded in a romantic glow. She takes a seat at the bar. Damn it!
Now what?
I walk up to her and say:
“It’s always warmer in the back.”
I don’t know if that’s true, but she gets up. I grin at myself as I follow her. I know how much she hates the cold.
We sit down at a small table in a niche. No one will disturb us here. We, of course, order coffee. There’s genuine gratitude in her face as she accepts the steaming hot cup from the waiter, as if it is a benevolent gift rather than something she ordered and paid for. Wouldn’t you just bend over and kiss her?
Her spirits are lifted a little. Now? I’m trying to work up my courage, figuring out how to begin.
“Daphne?”
“Hm.” She responds absently, enjoying her coffee as if she’s in love with it. I’m feeling a little jealous. Ridiculous! In any case, I know how she’s going to devour it, cup and all, when she’s done toying. Don’t stall!
“You know I care about you.” A lot. She doesn’t look up. Is she listening?
“Don’t you?” No response. “Daphne?”
Suddenly her face clouds over. She starts sobbing.
What am I to do? How can I make it better for her?
Everything she’s been bottling up the whole day starts spilling out all at once, I can’t even make out every word no matter how I strain.
I just want to get up and take her in my arms, hold her, soothe her until she stops crying. Instead I sit here, listening, while she falls apart. I’m such a coward.
“They say they can’t keep living together as if everything’s alright. They don’t trust each other. I can’t even trust them anymore, either one of them.” She’s looking for something, something that’s not within her grasp. I offer her my handkerchief. Thank goodness I haven’t used it. She accepts it graciously, twisting her mouth into the closest she can get to a smile. “I knew it was coming, that it would end up like this, eventually, so why does it still hurt so much?”
How can I answer that? So much desperation. I can see in her face how much it hurts. Her pain squeezes my throat shut.
“Why now?” I enquire in a raspy voice.
“Because my mother’s a liar and my father’s a slut.”
“Who is it?”
“Our next-door neighbour.” She makes a face at me. I try to picture her, have I seen her before? The image of a sturdy woman in her thirties with thick blond curly hair pops up. A family woman.
“You mean Ann?” I can’t believe it. I would never have imagined... With two young children and all.
She nods. “Among many others.”
She has another sip and stares off into space, tears streaming down.
“Can you believe I actually say hello to that... woman every single day? Well, said.”
She takes a big gulp and starts taking more vigorously. She’s clearly furious.
“So did my mother by the way. She was so shocked, I fear for her health.” She bangs the cup on the table. Did it break? It could’ve. “She hardly ate or slept all weekend.”
“How did she find out?”
“He left his cell phone lying around. She was already suspicious, they’re always suspicious of each other. He was texting all day, he couldn’t wait to get us out of the house, he was acting funny, nervous... The messages made it obvious.”
She turns the cup around between her hands.
“The things they said and did to each other, all these years, you wouldn’t believe if I told you. No one would. It was bound to happen.”
She starts crying. “I’m so sorry to bother you with this. I feel like if I don’t tell someone, I’m going to burst.”
“You never bother me.” I say, from the bottom of my heart. “You couldn’t possibly.”
She sniffs. “Thanks.”
I reach out to briefly touch her hand across the table.
“Hey, it’s okay. I understand. I’m here for you.”
She puts up a brave face, she’s thankful. That knowledge sends a warm glow through my stomach.
“You can tell me anything. I’ll always listen.”
“Thank you, you’re such a good friend.”
Ouch! The warm fuzzy feeling retreats immediately and the anxiety returns.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Yeah, no problem.”
I drink my coffee.
We must have spent at least an hour like that, practically in total silence, staring ahead of us, alongside each other. The cafe is filling up. The bartender turns on the TV, the sports channel. Loud, soon to be drunk people have come to enjoy some game. A couple of them are eying Daphne. I want to get out of here. So does the bartender. He’s eying us too. We haven’t ordered anything since that first cup and we’re still here, taking up space. But if we go now, she’ll go home. The men elbow one another and point in her direction. They’re whispering, louder and louder, pushing each other forward. Alright then.
“Wanna get out of here? Believe me, you wouldn’t want to get caught up in a soccer war.”
She looks around, she hadn’t even noticed. “Yeah, sure.”
We leave the cafe with the overwhelming backing sound of “GOAL!!”
Right in time.
To be continued...

Monday, 3 January 2011

Dance, 1

“Maybe you shouldn’t.”
I say as she kicks the espresso machine.
“Don’t do this to me!” She shouts.
People in the hallway are staring at us. I smile, nod, say hello. So embarrassing...
“You know, Daphne,” I whisper, “assaulting the vending machine isn’t going to help: out of service is out of service.”
She finally gives up. “I know.” She sighs, leaning her forehead against the device. “I’d kill for some coffee right now.”
She suddenly looks so fragile. So tired. I suppose she didn’t get much sleep.
Guess now is not the time to tell her.
“Alright, what’s up?”
She doesn’t respond and starts banging at the machine. I grab her fist.
“Stop that, you’re going to hurt yourself.”
She shrugs.
I glance at the big clock at the wall. Five more minutes.
I won’t let go of her by now unclenched hand.
“Did your parents fight again?”
She jerks free and turns her back to me, crossing her arms. I don’t see it, but I know she’s crying and I know she’s trying to fight it.
“Daphne?”
I lay a comforting hand on her shoulder.
“It’s definite.” She says in a small voice and swallows heavily. “Nothing can be done, they’ve made that very clear, it’s over. They’re going to get divorced.”
“I’m so sorry, Daph.”
She’s silent. I’m afraid she’s going to collapse. What can I do? I reach my hand out to her, but pull back.
Other students left and right dart past us, standing in the middle of the hallway and disappear into the classroom. We wait till they’re gone. We’re running late. I don’t mind. She needs me.
“Do you want to ditch?” I ask.
She shakes her head, drying her eyes. The clinic light bounces off her long dark tresses. It makes me want to run my fingers through them. It’s difficult to keep my hand under control. I put it in my pocket, just to make sure I don’t do anything rash or stupid. She looks so utterly breakable.
She takes a deep breath and pulls herself together. I grimace at her. We take our seats somewhere in the back row. Everything else is full.
The teacher comes in after us and closes the door. We’ve made it in time after all.
He just babbles on, I’ll read up on the matter later myself, I can’t concentrate.  He tells a joke or two, I hear the people around us laughing, I’m not in the mood.
I scratch her name into the bench when she’s not looking, cover it with my notes. I’ve written ‘Daphne’ all over the room, throughout every class we’ve ever been to, hoping and fearing that she’d ask about it. Then I’d have no other choice but to tell her how I feel and finally get it over with, but she never noticed. Or maybe she did. There are so many Daphne’s.
I have to find a way to tell her. I take my notebook and scribble all over the margins every possible way to tell her.
I love you, Daphne.
I always loved you.
I long for you.
I can’t live without you.
I love you.
I LOVE you.
I love YOU.
I love you,
I love you.
Is she looking? No. She never is. It has to be today, I must confess to her today. But how? What should I say and when? What if she refuses me? I’ll lose her as friend as well. Won’t I? Then what?
I have to know. I must tell her. I look at her. You can just see how tense she is. I should figure out something to make her more at ease first.
Class is finally over, it seemed like ages. Everyone else packs up in a hurry and sprints out. Daphne just watches them go and sighs. The suspense is building up in me, I can feel my heart pounding in my ear. I can’t let her leave now, like this. I must be brave.
Listlessly, she picks up her bag, shoulders drooping, head down. I can’t bear to watch this happening.
I take her arm, gently, I don’t want to be pushy, and guide her through the door, into the cool evening breeze.
“Let’s go get a drink somewhere, calm you down a bit.”
She just nods, but I can see a faint hint of a smile come over her lips. Those full, moon-shimmering, lips.
We walk the street, I try to determine what to say and how, but having her near is just so damn distracting.
Her eyes are fireflies in the night. They dazzle me. I stare at her, I have to say something, she looks at me in wonder, say something!
“Aw!”
I hit my foot against a fire plug – how could I have missed that? – and curse. She giggles.
“You’re so clumsy.”
That wasn’t exactly what I wanted to hear from her tonight, but I’m glad to see her laugh, so I do too, despite the pain. It may even be worth the slight limp it got me and that I’m desperately trying to hide from her.
We come across a nice, cosy, informal cafe. It’s nearly empty and there’s a candle on every table. Perfect!
I hold the door open for her. So many beautiful tables shrouded in a romantic glow. She takes a seat at the bar. Damn it!
Now what?
To be continued... (next part: Friday)

Sunday, 28 November 2010

Notebook: a tale of four brothers (short story) - Update

Notebook: a tale of four brothers
Introduction
This is an idea I’ve been playing around with for at least some years now. I (semi-)specialised in (mainly Dutch) mediaeval literature during my training, so I’ve read my share of rhyming middle-Dutch romances with knights in them. When I read too many of them, this came pouring out. Especially the rhyming bits were inspired by it and so was the general ‘quest’ and the highly present narrator-figure, but I couldn’t string everything together and make out a beginning and an end. Now I might’ve. It’s already more of a series and who knows, maybe it’ll turn into a novel in the end.
I gave it a provisional title, because I had to call it something, but I might change my mind on that later. This is just a first draft so it may alter greatly. Let me know what you think and feedback and/or suggestions are very welcome. I guess I’ll adapt and expand as I go.
(note: this is the once updated version. I took out some spelling mistakes and, considering the helpful comments of Diego Green and Timothy, made an effort to distinguish between the siblings more consistently. Their character is to be developed a bit more in later parts, at least that is my intention. Hope you like it and leave any kind of constructive comments below. Thanks in advance)



PART 1: broken commandments
“A book is a mirror. When a monkey looks in, no apostle can look out.”
Georg Lichtenberg



“Don’t!”
“Oh, please, don’t be ridiculous, Michael.”
“Yeah, it’s just a book, for God’s sakes.”
“You know we’re not supposed to be up here.” The boy replied. “What if they find out?”
“No one is going to find out, you chicken and even if they do, it’s not like we’re wrecking things. There’s nothing else we can do with that bloody rain.”
“Dad will be angry!”
“So, I’ll tell them we made you come, now quit being such a pain and give me that book!”
Reluctantly, the boy let go of his clenched treasure, which immediately passed into three sets of hands at once.
As soon as they touched it, Michael saw a flash of gold appear on the cover.
“What’s that?”
It were apparently letters. In a shaky voice, he read aloud:
Reader, behold!
Another world, shall soon unfold...
“Let go of that book! It’s evil!”
“Did you fall down and hit your head?!”
“I’m telling you, there’s something wrong with it, look!”
“Look where, nutcase?”
“The letters, on the cover, they weren’t there before!”
“What letters? There’s nothing on the cover.”
He showed him the front of the book. It was blank.
“I don’t understand, I...”
“Nice try, kiddo!” The second youngest brother replied.
“I think he finally snapped, Edward.” His by five minutes older twin George added, dryly.
“Perhaps he just wants some attention.” The oldest sibling briskly ran through his younger brother’s hair.
“There, there, boy.”
“Cut it out, I’m not a dog, Robert!”
Robert clutched the book. He wiped the cobwebs off the cover and eagerly opened the volume. The three elder brothers coughed in the cloud of dust.
As soon as the manuscript lay open, a beam of violently bright light emerged from the pages to blind the siblings. They covered their eyes, but it burned through their eyelids. When they opened them, all had changed.
Michael got up from his squatting position and looked around in the filthy attic. They were gone! The book was on the floor, open, and his siblings had vanished.
“Robert? George! It’s not funny guys, come out? Edward, I know you’re in here!”
It wasn’t a joke. They had really disappeared. Confused, he staggered towards the manuscript and picked it up. The minute his fingertips touched its cover, it was as if a lightning bolt went through him. Electricity flowed into his body and he could feel smoke whirl up from his skin, his ears, his hair. In that instance, he ceased to be ‘Michael’ and became ‘Narrator’.
“Michael? Michael!” Three frightened voices called out from the book. The boy snapped out of his daze and answered.
“I’m right here!”
“Where?”
“In the attic, where else?”
“We can’t see you, you idiot. We’re in the damn book!”
“And we’re dressed like bloody knights!” Edward exclaimed.
“In the book?! How the hell can you be in the book?”
“How should we know? The darn thing’s got a spell on it or something.”
“But you can hear me?”
“YEAH. Get us out!”
“How could I possibly...”
“Well, what does the book say?”
“Good thinking.”
He went through the pages.
“Th... There’s nothing there, it’s empty!” He cried out.
What?”
“Wait, something comes up.” A black spot swelled on the page and formed into words, then sentences.
For the three to re-ascend,
the tale be spun until the end
“What is that supposed to mean?” Edward yelled.
“I think the book wants us to finish the story.” George replied pensively.
“What story? You heard Michael. There’s no text. We’re stuck here!”
“Guys! Use your brains and shut your waffles, will you?” Robert intervened. “Now why is Michael still up there, when we’re here?”
“He wasn’t touching the book.” George pondered.
“Yes, but that’s not all. The light was everywhere, it dragged us in here. There must be a reason for Michael to have stayed behind. I’m sure he can get us back. He’s our only link left to the real world.”
Robert took a few steps forward and cried up to the sky.
“Michael? Michael, can you hear me?”
“Yes, Robert, I can hear you, you don’t have to shout.”
“Micky, make up a tale to bring us home.”
“Okay, just a sec, uh... Three boys were taken in the book and... then they came back out.”
“Very good.”
“Nothing’s happening.”
“Why are we still here?”
“Think back to what the book said... Ah, that’s it. Michael, you have to make it rhyme.”
“Rhyme?”
“Just do it. Everything else rhymed.”
“Okay, I’ll give it a try. Let me see... What does the book-world look like.”
They were standing in a green pasture. Peaceful breeze played with the longer blades of grass. Birds were singing.
“Uh... Like a meadow. There’s really nothing special to see here.”
All of a sudden Robert noticed George on his knees in the grass, pushing his glasses up and mumbling to himself.
“It’s just impossible.” He picked some blades of grass and smelled them, feeling around. “It defies all reason. Maybe we fell asleep.”
“Three or four people, dreaming the same thing?” Robert raised an eyebrow and picked up a small pebble. “Dream this!”
“Aw!”
“Hurt, didn’t it? So far for your theory. Now get your ass over here!”
George fidgeted with his spectacles. He was nervous, straining his brain to make sense of the situation.
“We’re ready for you, Michael.”
 “Alright, let’s see... How’s this? The three boys, their lesson learned, to their home then returned.”
The pages from the book lit up as Michael scribbled the words into it.
“Michael, I think it’s working!”
Then Michael spoke again. Something came over him and settled like a white film over his eyes. His voice resonated through the alternate world, with a distinctive echo of another, speaking in chorus with him.
When fulfilled, they shall return,
first their lesson, they must learn.
“Michael, what the hell are you doing?!”
“It’s not me doing it, I swear! It’s like my lips move on their own.”
“Get a grip, will you?” Edward yelled.
“Stop harassing the boy, Edward, you heard him, didn’t you? It’s not his fault. He’s just as enchanted as we are.”
“George has a point, Edward.” Robert scanned the sloping land. “We may want to look around. We don’t know how long we’ll be down here, so we’ll need some place to stay when it gets dark.”
The trio made off. They soon came across a path.
“Maybe if we follow this, we’ll find a village or a house or something.”
The path quickly turned into a road, but still there was no person in sight and not a single building. After at least half an hour of walking, and wining on the part of the youngest boy who was not at all accustomed to hikes, they heard the sound of running water. They came across a mighty river.
“Oh, just great! Now how are we going to cross that?”
“Well, the current’s too strong to swim.”
“Let’s go looking. There must be a bridge somewhere. Hey, Michael, rhyme us a way to get to the other side.”
The siblings crossed plain and mound
till at long last, a bridge was found
“How’s that?”
“Brilliant, thanks, sport.”
Barely had they put a single foot on the bridge, when a deep voice bellowed.
“Who dares cross my bridge.” From the heavens, the narrator’s voice again resounded.
But for this bridge, there was a guard
who many knight before had marred.
With fists as rocks
he slaughtered flocks
of soldiers strong and brave
who to defeat him, crave.
“I don’t like the looks of this! Let’s get out of here quickly, before that guard shows up. We can just make it.”
“And what’s up with this guy’s grammar. Is he spastic?”
“Edward, do not, insult, the narrator...”
Be Robert’s attempt great,
to not insult, it is too late.
“Oh, crap, here we go, thanks a lot, Edward.”
The bridge started to pound under the feet of something big coming their way.
“God, I hope that’s just an earth-quake.”
And there they met a Dilgemesh,
a creature large and frightening,
who had a taste for human flesh,
and was as fast as lightening.
And there it was, stomping across the wooden overpass. It was at least six feet seven tall and two men wide, hairy and muscular, with filthy brown manes falling all the way down to the waist. Three eyes, it had and was a horror to behold.
“MICHAEL!”
“I’m trying, I’m trying, don’t push me!”
“We’re getting eaten down here!”
“Alright, alright, how’s this:
The Dilgemesh, the prince well knew,
is the weakest thing in all of Grover,
it would simply tipple over
if you but blew in its third eye,
so surely, it would die.
“Oh great, how could we possibly get to its eye?”
“Think fast, George, you’re the brainy one.”
“And where the hell is Grover?”
“You’re in it, Edward! I named it the land of Grover, it was the first name I could think of that rhymed.”
A small crown fell from the sky and landed before their feet.
“The prince has to do it.”
“Who’s the prince?”
“I don’t want to be the prince, not if I’d have to go fight that! Here, George, you take it.”
“What, me? Robert is the oldest, let him take it.”
“Fine! I’ll do it! It’s only fair.” Robert said.
The other two looked at him dumbfounded.
“What, are you mad? It will maul you!”
“Thanks for the confidence, guys. It warms my heart.”
“Well, it was good knowing ya.”
Robert took a deep breath and prepared to go into battle with the much larger creature that was coming their way. Edward grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back. He was relieved.
“Robert?”
“Yes?”
“Can I have your CD’s?”
Annoyed, he jerked free.
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