Arena (Photo credit: MGM_Photos)

Deep in the heartlands of the steppes, Luther found what he was looking for; the arena, a veritable portmanteau of all the memories he had of those times…such a long time ago, yet those images were as effulgent as ever in his mind.

As he entered the ruins of this repository, he could hear the haunting melodies of the concertina being played by that old man at the main entrance, sucking toothlessly on his rusk, smile on his lips and a glint in his eye as if he had heard something calumnious about every person who crossed that portal.

Luther smirked ruefully, for no doubt that old buzzard was both voluble and egregious in his account of what happened that fateful day; shit, he could have dined out for months on that story alone.

Well, it their own damned fault.  You train an elite warrior assassin, instil pride in him…


About TheImaginator

35 year old sciolist living in Tokyo. I like swing dancing, Twitter word games, writing, using, reading, and watching movies. I write stuff on my blog occasionally.
This entry was posted in Creative writing, Shrouded City and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

8 Responses to Memories

  1. I’m thinking there is more to be told…
    wonder who did it????

  2. Glad to see you in my inbox this morning. As always leave me wanting more:)

  3. That first sentence is wonderful, drew me right in. So well written I didn’t even notice the words used. Love your writing!

  4. barbtaub says:

    Effulgent memories? Hot damn! This is going to drive me crazy all day. PLEASE write the rest of this one.

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