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Brass Therapy

A red would not tolerate such blatant disrespect. No, Perseida thinks as the tinkle of her brass scales announce a sudden itch she works with a clawed foot. No, a red would tromp on out there and take the man’s head as an appetizer. Yet she doesn’t because whatever deed brought them here some bardContinue reading “Brass Therapy”

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Flash Fiction: The Beautiful End

So this is suicide. The moment of great death. A silly expedition towards inevitable failure. The monstrosity brings his weapon back and all air disappears from the battlefield. Then he swings it forward and a hurricane-like gale batters all. The commander watches twenty go down with the blow. One of his men gets back up.Continue reading “Flash Fiction: The Beautiful End”