Stories & Tales of Fiction
Hadrian the Bandit
It took only one day to recover from his injury, but several months to muster enough courage to step out of his room. His robes have ridiculously long sleeves that cover his hands, and a winding sash that coils thrice around the torso. Hadrian prefers loose pants for his legs to move freely. His current robes impart a flavor that is too effeminate and rich for his taste. He grew up in the streets fighting.
To Choose Hell
Light spreads all around. I look at my hands, then at the people surrounding me, and notice there are no shadows. With perfect, otherworldly luminescence, we see creation as God intended. Everyone is naked, and each person is a dark notch compared to the light. Instinctively, we gravitate towards a spot. Legs walk, but there is no floor they touch. I head to a random direction, and after some time I stand still with the assembly, in a spot that I think is cozy. Next to my right side is a woman, and on my left, a dwarf that could be no more than 2 feet high. I’ve never seen any of these individuals, but I felt I knew them better than anyone I’ve met in life.