Hear ye, hear ye, it's another beautiful Sunday and another opportunity to bring forth the six- may they delight and entertain...:) Last week I posted the intro snippet from Anoethau, my latest fantasy adventure. The title itself derives from Welsh mythology, actually from one of the oldest Arthurian tales there is, and it means difficult or impossible task. This week I'll continue where I left off the last time. Please feel free to comment and criticize my work as you see fit. And have a good one. ☕
It was back in prison when Artie had found out about his grandmother’s passing and the inheritance she had left.
His lawyer had given him the mysterious letter with a note, saying that the next parole hearing might be worth putting some effort into, unlike the last few times when he’d "blown" it.
To Artie’s understanding he hadn’t blown anything except being honest; apparently that was something the commission didn't want to hear.
He hung his jacket in the closet, and put his street shoes next to the other pair, which he slipped into with a single sideways move. As he passed through the living room he realized that the heavy smell of pipe smoke clung to the curtains and sofa cushions like a persistent cloud of smog.
Disgusting habit, he thought and yanked open one of the large windows.