Fool In The Rain

The rejection stings. Dave stumbles down the sidewalk, absorbed in his own thoughts, oblivious to the people walking nearby or the rain pouring overhead. Motor memory guides him back to his apartment despite never making a decision to walk home. He's too preoccupied with being left standing on the curb looking a fool. The others were probably still laughing.

All he knows with any certainty is he will never allow himself to be in such a vulnerable position again.

If only he'd been a few seconds quicker, he could have boarded the bus before the door slammed in his face.

Disenchantment

The mist glistened with false promises. The canopy dripped the tears of myriad misled bards of all races who had put effort into the creation of tales only to be demeaned by the praising of the Mediocre tribe by the forest’s Editelves.

The tribe, though mere mortals, had somehow produced a damsel of beauty which had entranced even the sorcerers and had been avidly welcomed into the hierarchy as a mate where she wielded unprecedented influence.

The trolls, in particular, grumbled angrily as the incantation of rejection echoed through the avenues, causing even lianas to cringe. “We have decided not…”

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid