Lucius and Ignatius were seasoned hands when it came to setting up their camp. They easily retrieved their tent from what seemed to be a disorganized pile of sacks, bags, and boxes. Paris regarded the size of the bag with dubious curiosity, but from the too-small-seeming package they unfolded, little by little an unexplainably large piece of […]
Category: Paris
The Waste (IV)
“A story?” Paris blurted incredulously. “How, may I ask, is a story payment for transportation?” “It is not a matter of how, but why.” “Why then?” “The intricacies of the transaction may, in time be revealed to you, traveler. At this point you must simply decide whether this is a cost that you wish to pay.” […]
The Waste (III)
Paris lay still, and the noises persisted. When he first heard the sounds, his back had been to the road. As the volume of the sounds grew louder, and the rhythm remained steady, Paris knew that his realm of dreams had not seeped into his wasteland reality. He shifted, and twisted in his bedroll, to […]
The Waste (II)
When Paris woke, he was still cocooned inside his blanket. The air trapped under his cover was hot, and stale. His skin was damp and sticky from sweat. His first thought was to throw off the cloth shell, and expose himself to fresh cool air. However, the thought that immediately followed this, that which reminded […]
The Waste (I)
THUMP! THUMP! Whoooooosh. Ssssss. THUMP! THUMP! Whoooooosh. Ssssss. THUMP! THUMP! Whoooooosh. Ssssss. THUMP! THUMP! Whoooooosh. Ssssss. Paris’s footfalls rapidly struck the dusty, dirt road. Stomped into the air, gritty brown particles rose in small puffs around the spots struck by his feet, hung in the desert air for a long breath, then returned to the […]
Oasis
The flat, dusty, brown serpent stretched out in front of him. Paris raised his eyes from his boots and gazed at a point on the horizon. At this juncture, the road was swallowed by a slowly descending, molten red-orange, half-circle that bravely fought off the impending darkness. The sky was swept with vivid hues of lavender, pink […]
Room
Paris adjusted his position in the chair. As chairs go, it was far from anything special. It was rigid, with no cushion or padding of which to speak. It was constructed of some unidentifiable wood, covered by a thin layer of a dark and slightly copper hued paint. The paint flaked off the chair at […]