I, Kwan
For over a thousand years, a powerful oligarchy known as the Worldwide Order of Lightnings has oppressed us. With the help of the prying eyes of the chronomancers, the Lightnings have torn us from our homes; have forced us to do their bidding; have stripped us of our rights, even our names.
I have spent my life in hiding. Please understand that an unrated telepath like me is a commodity, not a person. If it s not the thought-police come to call on me, it s the Lightnings, or worse, a suitor who won t accept no as an answer.
Peace. Security. Love. They all elude me. When I manage to grasp a little of them in my shaking hands, they are all but snatched away by outside powers beyond my control. My heart groans with black tears from all this folly.
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K. Hippolite
Time for 2 short excerpts!
“No need for the lord thing when we’re alone, Kwan.” He shuffles my arm so that we’re hand in hand as he turns to look at me. “You’re better than them, you know. I spoke to Tiller. He said you’re far stronger a telepath than anyone lets on.”
“I am of Hillvale. I am inseparable from its people, and I’m certainly not better than anyone.”
“You speak with youth and naivety. How old are you again?”
He holds up my hand and studies my ring finger.
“Old enough to no longer make amorous decisions based on the flavour of ice cream I’ve been given. And the mark you see roiling over my head would make life with a Lightning difficult.”
Stradin gives a throaty laugh. “Well-played, but you’re far beneath my station, so no fear of me pursuing you. I merely ask for politeness-sake.”
“Good news to my ears, milord.” I snap my arm free of his grasp and step away from the protective wall. Even though I can sense nothing of his thoughts through his electrokinetic field, I have a sudden feeling of dread about being shoved off. A plunge to my death at the whim of an angry Elika is far from how I’d like to spend the evening of Kim’s appointment ceremony.
A shoot of some plant catches my eye. Growing in between the cracks of the stone, the little sprig of green seems incongruous here. A scream of defiance from nature. I bend down before it to touch one of its tiny round leaves.
“What interests you in that weed?” asks Stradin.
“If all weeds should die, where would we be?”
“Better off, I should think.”
“A world in which plants only grew where invited would soon lose all appeal. We’d be locked in a jail limited of our own imaginations.”
This evokes another laugh from Stradin.
“Lords, Kwan. Where do you get all these words?”
“From my soul. Look in yours and you will read such things there yourself.”
He’s a giant of a man, perhaps just clear of the two-metre mark. He wears leathers and a fur overcoat that gives him a feral, bear-like look. To make matters worse, he wears giant-sized boots. The thick type that he could probably use to stomp through a steel animal trap and emerge unscathed. His horse is bigger than any horse I’ve seen before. Black, with hooves as thick as the rider’s legs. I bet its eyes glow red in the dark to match the clouds of frothy air jetting from its flaring nostrils.
I park and walk ahead of the motorcycle, blocking off the road. This could get ugly, so I unwrap Kwan’s scarf from around my neck. I set my rifle down on the road and remove my helmet.
Minutes until the hunter arrives. Minutes to show life what I’m made of.
“I am of Hillvale. I am inseparable from its people, and I’m certainly not better than anyone.”
“You speak with youth and naivety. How old are you again?”
He holds up my hand and studies my ring finger.
“Old enough to no longer make amorous decisions based on the flavour of ice cream I’ve been given. And the mark you see roiling over my head would make life with a Lightning difficult.”
Stradin gives a throaty laugh. “Well-played, but you’re far beneath my station, so no fear of me pursuing you. I merely ask for politeness-sake.”
“Good news to my ears, milord.” I snap my arm free of his grasp and step away from the protective wall. Even though I can sense nothing of his thoughts through his electrokinetic field, I have a sudden feeling of dread about being shoved off. A plunge to my death at the whim of an angry Elika is far from how I’d like to spend the evening of Kim’s appointment ceremony.
A shoot of some plant catches my eye. Growing in between the cracks of the stone, the little sprig of green seems incongruous here. A scream of defiance from nature. I bend down before it to touch one of its tiny round leaves.
“What interests you in that weed?” asks Stradin.
“If all weeds should die, where would we be?”
“Better off, I should think.”
“A world in which plants only grew where invited would soon lose all appeal. We’d be locked in a jail limited of our own imaginations.”
This evokes another laugh from Stradin.
“Lords, Kwan. Where do you get all these words?”
“From my soul. Look in yours and you will read such things there yourself.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He’s a giant of a man, perhaps just clear of the two-metre mark. He wears leathers and a fur overcoat that gives him a feral, bear-like look. To make matters worse, he wears giant-sized boots. The thick type that he could probably use to stomp through a steel animal trap and emerge unscathed. His horse is bigger than any horse I’ve seen before. Black, with hooves as thick as the rider’s legs. I bet its eyes glow red in the dark to match the clouds of frothy air jetting from its flaring nostrils.
I park and walk ahead of the motorcycle, blocking off the road. This could get ugly, so I unwrap Kwan’s scarf from around my neck. I set my rifle down on the road and remove my helmet.
Minutes until the hunter arrives. Minutes to show life what I’m made of.
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