Everything is black.
There is no what was or is to come. Slowly, the dark dissipates. A constant murmur rises up. It grows continually more clear until it forms into words.
“There must be something…” falters a girl’s voice.
“I have told you, I have done everything possible,” an older woman grumbles, “I will take but half of what you were to pay me. You will need it when she passes.” The girl starts to sob.
The door slams and as someone, likely the older woman, leaves the small room residence.
It is getting darker again and the colors fade away, but the ears are still alert and comes in the darkness a whisper from a young boy.
It sounds as if the voice is miles away but the words are clear, “I’ll find a way to heal you Ma. Please, don’t die.”
YOU ARE READING
The Curse of the Speckled Stone
Short StoryLiving as a serf in Midieval Russia was far from enjoyable for numbers of reasons. John's mother is on death's doorstep and the nearby shaman can do nothing to help. In dispair, young John undertakes a dangerous and risky task from a stranger hoping...
