When I sat down to plan this month’s writing, I knew my micro-fiction pieces would offer the quickest creative wins. Flipping through my notebook, I realized both Ramas Caldwell and Lucas would return to the page. While I still haven’t given Lucas a last name, it’s been some time since I’ve explored his world and his unusual abilities. However, it is the wanderer, Ramas Caldwell, who takes the stage first.
Some messages are urgent. Others arrive with dust on their backs and silence in their wake. This tale begins on the edge of a quiet, wind-swept refuge. It’s a place of solitude, not one that welcomes intrusions. Yet as Ramas recovers from his ordeal with the weather, a figure arrives with a message. What passes between them is neither loud nor dramatic, but it carries weight. What follows is quiet but deliberate, layered with restraint and meaning. It’s a story about control, timing, and the subtle power of choosing when, and whether, to respond.
In a world where those cursed with The Sight possess power over everything, alliances face relentless strain from elements and exhaustion, even amongst themselves. This micro-tale unfolds in the space between command and reply, humming with tension like the still air before a storm. If you enjoy thoughtful standoffs, complex dynamics, and fantasy moments that linger, join me for Ramas Caldwell’s latest encounter.
Come, sit down and allow me to give you a mini-escape and kindle your imagination.
Dust clung to Hagar’s body as he slipped from his mount’s back. With a deep breath, he patted the animal’s rear as he rubbed his neck. He tied the animal to a small outcropping beside the earthen home, then stepped inside. When he pulled the door closed, he withdrew a ceramic tube as he inclined his head toward the seated individual.
Before Hagar could speak, Ramas tilted his head, his milky eyes fixed somewhere between the seen and the unseen. “You weren’t supposed to be chasing after me.
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