Speranza's fault. All Speranza's fault. She thought an elf challenge would be a good idea. All. Her. Fault. This is what started it all; this is where all the "official" entries are archived. Go look, it's a fun read!

written January 3, 2003


Writing Home

by Arduinna


Charles Emerson Winchester (the Third) settled carefully into the chair, flicking the switches on the tape recorder with his customary precision. A cautious glance assured his privacy, and he cleared his throat before he began.

"Mother, Father. I have done as you asked. I have lived among these --" nostrils flaring in distaste, he nevertheless discarded his first choice of word, continuing with only a subtle hint of sarcasm to allow his true feelings to show " -- these people. Lived in filth and squalor, cold and heat, eating food that I would not feed the dogs at home. What I would not give to stroke those white coats, tug those red ears again! But here I stay, in this fetid hellhole, repairing injuries made to mortal flesh in penance for my sins against my people.

"Father, Mother -- have I not suffered enough? I beg you, allow me to return to our home below Beacon Hill, to make merry once more.

"Your loving, and forevermore obedient, son,


~ fin ~

Feedback of any sort, from one line to detailed crit, is always welcome, at arduinna at trickster dot org.


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