With everything that’s going on in the world and my life, my fuse has been a little shorter than usual. Thankfully, I’ve kept it in check by focusing that frustration into my writing, specifically Ramas Caldwell. With the common thread between this loner and myself, I poured all the recent frustrations into him as he sought a drink at a local tavern.
While I have plans to bring the intricacies of his abilities to my readers, for now, I’m content with teasing the depth of his fantastic abilities. This micro-tale introduces a random antagonist, and a new character, the tavern’s owner. While I don’t name him, I’m interested in exploring this new relationship.
Come, sit down and allow me to give you a mini-escape and kindle your imagination.
“We don’t want your kind here.”
Ramas’s hand lashed out, encircling a stranger’s wrist. With a grunt, he removed his helm and placed it beside his drink. While a growl emanated from Ramas’s lips, he turned around and stared at the interloper with his milky white eyes. “You made two mistakes.”
“Let go of me!”
Ramas twisted the stranger’s wrist, forcing him to his knees. “Your first mistake was thinking that because I’m cursed with powers means I’m something to be cast aside.” He licked his lips and grabbed his glass off the counter.
“Could you please not give the lad a harsh lesson?”
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