 |
The morning brought naught else but the saddle again. Again they raced, it seemed to battle Time. Resting but for an hour in the middle of the day, ag..
|
|
What strange man he is. That was Mirti’s first thought as he opened his eyes to see the man shaking him awake. Of abnormally short stature and a..
|
|
Rada stood in his tree form, branches pointed towards the ceiling, in a room leading out into a small garden. It was a pleasant sort of room with an e..
|
|
Dinner was served in a colossal, hexagonal marble room with Grecian columns and striking Moghul style windows. The ceiling was domed glass with crysta..
|
|
In the next few days, Mirti found out quite a bit about himself: He was good at wielding weapons but despised it; he loved his horse even though he wa..
|
|
She sat with her back turned to him on a stone bench nearly overcome by ivy. Hearing footsteps, she turned. “ You use me abominably ill, Mirti. ..
|
|
Mirti walked languidly pondering the depth of his connection to Rosamond. Scarcely a week had passed yet they conversed as ones who had been in friend..
|
|
A village boy named Mirti is surrounded by violence. He is destined to restore dharma to the world. Will he succeed?
|
|
To my most loving Father I lift my soul, blackened by the dishonor Of too many existences I raise my heart, tattered Mend me, Father Make me to need n..
|
|
Did you not see.. I wanted not the sorrow quivering in your subtle eyes For that selfsame sorrow lay agonizing in my heart Gently you pulled away And ..
|
|
|
first
prev
Profile
Writing
Friends
Share This