Unedited, and unrevised.

Then there was one who’s right hand burned like fire, and with him he brought from the east to west smoldering destruction.

The common house doors creaked open, and through them a massive man slipped through. His amber eyes focused on something on the ground that no one else could see. The chair creaked beneath his weight next to a table full of men who were playing dice. Silence kept everyone’s eyes on the motionless man; a stranger in town was uncommon since their little village was off any main roads.

They let out a breath and went back to their games drinks, the immediate awe worn off. Blinking, he changed his gaze to the bartender who hadn’t stopped watching him. The stranger motioned for a drink; the bartender filled his glass with the watered down ale and sat it on the table. Before the bartender got back behind the bar the man spoke, “Barkeep, another.”

The room quieted some, in response.  The bartender turned with a grim smile, “Sure thing.”

He returned with a fresh drink; but again, before he could return the stranger requested another drink. This time the room’s mirth died down almost entirely. The bartender tensed as he put his hand on the glass, “We have a cask in the back if you want me to bring that out.”

“It wont do you any good,” the stranger said, he had an audience now.

Before he could ask any questions, the stranger’s had clapped over the bartender’s and the glass holding him in place. The bartender tried to jerk his hand free but he couldn’t budge. Suddenly sweat began to pour off his face, then everyone was sweating. People began to murmur as the temperature rose in the room. The bartender cried out making those closest jump; he pulled on his arm trying to free it will pure panic in his eyes. Everyone watched as acrid smoke poured off of his hand.

The stranger released his hand sending him falling on his back, the hand withered and red skin starting to peel away. A man stood to move on the stranger, but the stranger’s hand slipped into his cloak and drew out a molten and slammed it on the table. It glowed like hot coals; over a hand long and more than a half-hand wide. One end was flattened and the other worked into a pyramid shaped tip.


About moorewriting

I am a man of many passions. God, my wife, and writing are just a few. I want to share with you humanity through literature. My two blogs are Sword in Hand and Real Time Religion. View all posts by moorewriting

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