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Bus 57 to CedarwoodBUS 57 TO CEDARWOOD
Amanda woke up as the bus plunged down the steep cliff.
Around her small things flew, floating in the falling vehicle.
Time began to slow down. With it, everything around her blurred; all
ambient sounds became a slow stream of incoherent waves.
Today, of all days? Why did it have to be today? she thought.
Some moments later, time came to a full stop. Silence and blurriness reigned.
The bus driver was nowhere to be seen, and so were the other passengers.
Except one: a teenager seated in the very back row. He wore a hood so
she couldn't see his face. In his hand he held a small metallic thing
that shone like a small sun.
"It works!" she heard him say. His voice sounded very familiar.
A happy family
The phone at Rimes' house rang. Daniel paused his XBOX and moved to pick it up.
"Leave it, I'll take it," his father shouted from the kitchen. He
stormed into the living room and picked it up.
(a female voice greeted)
Shadows Lost, 3 of 3
‡ ‡‡‡‡ ‡ ‡‡‡‡
(Twenty years ago)
The sun flares over the Desertlands of Haas'na. Its ancient, bleak mountains cast sharp shadows on its narrow gorge-paths. The wind whistles between the mountains and the narrow paths, carrying dirt about.
A warhorse stops its galloping, obeying its rider's throat-latching. He uses the reins to make the horse lift its head and empties the content of his canteen into the animal's mouth; the beast drinks with relief. The rider dismounts. He examines the horse's legs and hooves; they have been injured from the paths' sharp stones. He caresses the steed's neck and, after tying the reins at a nearby rock, he begins to ascend on a mountain across the pathway. He loses his stepping a few times as he walks, tripping at some steep rocks. He looks overhead, at his destination. After not much time, he reaches it.
He stands in front of the entrance to a small cave and then steps inside. The cave's interior, no bigger than a small room, has a
Shadows Lost, 2 of 3
§§§§ § §§§§
(Twenty years ago)
Freezing wind blows in the temple: the birds that hadn't left when the traveler entered do so now, flapping their wings hurriedly. Even the rain dares not entering the temple through the half-collapsed roof; the penumbra of the clouded day degrades.
The traveler rises from the broken Holy Table. He wears his crown and holds the golden rod. His face hardens as he turns around. He beholds shadows; shadows of men and women that do not crawl on the ground as peoples' shadows do: these shadows hover just over the weeded, fractured marble floor, staring at him with beads of red light where their eyes should be. More enter the temple through the entrance and the broken windows.
You needed not bring your crown and scepter, king Saal, he hears inside his mind from a thousand voices. We know who you are. We do not forget.
I am not here as a king of shadows lost, Saal thinks back. I come here as a liberator of tormente
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More