Struck, I fell, my hand opening slowly like the petals of a flower in the morning sun. By eve it closed into a fist of stone. Rising, revenge was taken upon my enemies. The kingdom was mine, and no warrior hence has been allowed to stand up from the battlefield to fight another day.
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Published by timothyfrench15
Hello, my name is Timothy French. I’m a blogger, writer, and author of Every Yard Is A Grave. A Post-Apocalyptic Novella. View all posts by timothyfrench15