Thursday, December 10, 2015

100 Words a Day 745

The shadowy thing that had been his father floated behind him, silent until it saw the mark.

“Soon,” it whispered.

The elf’s face contorted in anger. He yanked his shirt down over the dark stain.

“No. I’ll never be like you,” he said defiantly.

“Your fate,” the shade responded.

The elf growled to himself. Turning sharply from the dark thing. He donned his boots. After a final look in the mirror, acquired at considerable expense, he was ready to step out. The penumbral form that had been his father watched him leave from force cage in which it was imprisoned. 

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