Flash Forward, for Vilayn
Send me “Flash Forward” for a brief snippet of an event that will occur in my muse’s future.
'Can I talk to him? I think I can help.'
'You can try, but he won't listen. He doesn't want to hear any ofit.'
'He might want to hear this.'
Vilayn stabbed at the parchment with the quill, blotting the pageand upsetting the vase of stoneflower stalks. Before the watersplashed onto the manuscript he swept it aside, letting every wordfall to the floor, and picked up a new sheet to write on. His handjerked angrily across the page.
fucking priests and their fucking bloody thrice damned words ohI'm sorry how awful how sad let me know if there's anything I can dothink about all the good things he's safe now he's with the gods nowisn't that lovely isn't that so fucking nice for them fuck that makethem give him back he isn't theirs he's ours I want him back I wanthim back I want him back why can't any of them fucking do anything
There was a knock on the door. The nib of the quill rippedthrough the paper and scratched the desk below.
'Vilayn? It's Ethysil. I really want to talk to you. Can I come in?'
'I'm going to take that as a yes.'