Worthy By Deed Alone: Part 3
His hand was held out to me steady and strong. A sword, his sword, rested across his palm. My eyes went from his to the sword and back again. It was then I noticed...
Short stories & poems for everyone from everyone
His hand was held out to me steady and strong. A sword, his sword, rested across his palm. My eyes went from his to the sword and back again. It was then I noticed...
But fate has fickle plans for all men. Even though it had not been eight years since i had last spoken to my father. Four years in service, two at war, and two on...
My father taught me a lesson long ago. As he stood over my bruised and battered form after sword training one day. “Son,” he said to me, “men are not worthy of merit, honor,...