Sparing (Continues where The Perfect Stone left off) Sarn spat blood, ignored the bright motes floating in the red stain, as he rose for round four. “Come on, stop defending. Start offending,” said his teacher for this match, a man four decades past caring and two past Sarn’s age. “Come on, Kid, hit me. No more defense try some offense now. I could hit at your age.” In a glance, Sarn saw the practice stave by the wall; he’d lost it in the last exchange. A flurry of blows kept him moving back, dodging, blocking but allowing no change to tactics criticized in this attack. A halt … Continue reading Sparing


Waiting (Picks up from Light the Wreath) In dark we stand about a candle slim. We light this Advent taper in caves deep, in castles old and forests bold. Though dim it stands this tiny flame to ward of sleep. We keep the watch and wait for the promise. In monasteries, the brothers’re chanting. Everyone’s waiting for the one promised. In Shayari, purple stones are glowing, in wreaths ringed around it, families are praying. They wait for the promise to come and his light shine, banishing the darkness there. For that promise they’ll wait, do kind acts from from the heart’s wish to aid, to … Continue reading Waiting

Light the Wreath

Light the Wreath (picks up after Faith ends) Ran cracked the door open, peered though to rule out mischief in the living room. Standing there Nolo, Inari, their son Nerule, in a small circle, with Nolo talking, “…livest and reignest forever. Amen.” Nolo nodded; his son hesitated. “Put the purple one in; we can eat then.” “I’m not the youngest child,” Nerule stated. He nodded to Ran who spied all this through a door cracked open. “Ran should do this now.” “What’re you doing?” Papa asked though he knew. Or maybe he didn’t ’cause he joined Ran now. Like a protective wall, he … Continue reading Light the Wreath