J. W. Hankins here, AKA Scribereglyph, Author and sometimes Illustrator of Dark Fiction: Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Horror. Check out my site. I have a lot of content here for you to digest. Read some of my featured excerpts or blog posts, browse artwork, listen to music, or watch a few vids. Check back in a few as I’m always adding new content to the site.
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“So, what are you planning for New Years?” Margori smiled then took a sip from her red soda can. The first flakes of snow fall were peppering her dark curly hair and the shoulders of her long black wool coat.
There was a chill to the night air that Camille was aware of but couldn’t really feel on her flesh. She smiled at Margori from over her shoulder, then turned to look off the rooftop at the brightly colored city lights below. At one point in time, those lights held an alluring intoxication, but now, they were just dull bulbs illuminating a filthy zoo.
Vengeance In Bloom
The small lantern on the night table barely lit the room, and Lily could see just enough to count the patches of chipped paint on the ceiling. She lied, naked in bed, whispering to herself while she counted. “Seven, eight, nine, ten.”
Nearly on top of her, a man snored into her right ear. One of his thick arms, slung across her breasts, pinned her down amongst the mangled sheets. The tequila on his hot breath was nauseating, and she turned her head as her stomach churned from the stench.
Derjjuwa kneel to no one, not even to their masters.
To one’s enemy it is a show of strength, resolve, and defiance in the face of conflict. To one’s master, it is a show of respect, confidence, and pride in their ever-increasing skills.
That is the Derjjuwa’s Creed and it was the first thing Amachi learned when she began her training as a child. She remembered being so small and fragile, so consumed by fear and sorrow, her entire world was a nightmare from which she could not awake and the cruel powers that be would not allow to end.