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Friday Fictioneers

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Copyright -Claire Fuller

Hi again, I don’t think I’ve posted in almost half a year but I’m back, although I can’t promise I’ll stay, being so busy with exams coming up and all. Here’s something I whipped up for Friday Fictioneer’s, hosted by Rochelle Wisoff. I haven’t written anything good in months, my pathetic excuse is writers block but I’m trying to beat it. Anyway, here it is, constructive criticism wanted and I hope you enjoy.

                                                                                                                                                        

It has been a while. For months I’ve passed this place and looked away, afraid to see the noose hanging from the tree. It’s gnarled knots and thick twisted branches, we used to climb across them and pretend we were monkeys’, or elves, or spies, giggling with glee, oblivious to all else.

So many memories, so much pain. I still remember our first kiss round the back, how we’d clambered onto the church roof, how once I broke my arm. I remember playing hide and seek, the last time I’d found him, hanging with a noose around his neck.

Friday Fictioneers: Slave Bones, Part 2

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Slave Bones Series:/ Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 /

Another week and my stats seem to be dropping, oh well they will hopefully pick up soon as I introduce my new series for friday fictioneers; Slave Bones. The link to friday fiction prompt is here. Part 2 is below, hope you enjoy and constructive criticism is welcome as always.

 

As the sun completed its final milestone of its day, so too did the slaves. The next camp lay crumbling before them, a stone shack that Rordan couldn’t help thinking, depicted his current life style. Not that his previous one had been any better, he’d lived in squalor beneath the city, trying to avoid the wrath of the Ignis people like many people did. All his life the Ignis people had been an incessant threat to him, since the reign of King Corinth had died, so too had the respect between Ignis and Aluction people.

A single skeleton of a black barked tree stood in solace before the building, a buzzard sentry stood guard on it. It screeched at the slaves as they passed, like it too shared a passionate hatred for them. Everyone and everything Rordan had met, treated him with enmity which always curdled his Aluction blood and rattled his slave bones.