Fantasy/ Romance
A woman with golden hair flowing past her exposed breast effortlessly is standing still in the deep ocean water. She has slanted emerald eyes and plump charcoal-grey lips. Her cheeks have just enough pink to make any man blush. I st...
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"Father..."
"Yes, Tigon." He answers with a concerned look on his face.
"I am ready to claim what is mine."
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"My son, you have no clue how long I have wanted to hear those words from your lips. You have made not just a king, but your father very proud."
Having such encouraging words was a rare delicacy I never tasted much as a child. A sense of pride slid across my stubborn Tigon ways.
Sir Leon beamed brightly as his copper-red hair waved aimlessly in the air. He too knew the words coming from my father was not something to take lightly.
As much as I had pushed my father away in my twenty-one years of living, I couldn't seem to this time.
My stubborn streak quickly disappeared as I looked down at the young boy. His unkept auburn-red hair rested just past his bony shoulders, and his innocent dark-brown eyes seemed to stare off into the distance.
Is it possible he saw Sireme too? No, no person has ever survived her presence. Although, I have never heard of her taking a child before...
No, that cannot be it... but look at him. He is such a strange little human being.
As I continue to watch the young boy grip his teddy bear, I see him turn towards the crowd and ask in a confused manner, "Where is, Daddy?"
It was such a simple and innocent question, yet not one single human being could answer him - not even the preacher.
Two ladies step away from the boy as if he is a disease. One lady is hunched over in a charcoal-grey peacoat and has silver hair tied tightly in a knot. The other lady seems to be her kinfolk with the same matching clothes and gaunt body frame. The only difference is her hairy wart on her face and thinning violet hair. They walk away whispering in each other's ear.
How rude of them! He is just a child!
The little boy walks up to the preacher and tugs on his black suit. "Reverend Marshall, is Daddy coming home soon?"
The preacher just turns away in shame.
Answer the child! What is wrong with you?
Not one single soul answers. Not one.
My lips pucker tightly together. I attempt to keep my opinion of the useless human beings to myself, but the more I try, the angrier I feel.
"Reverend Marshall?" The little boy repeats his name, not understanding his silence.
