Weekend Writing Warriors: Little White Hilt

Welcome writers, for today is the first Sunday of Weekend Writing Warriors! Squee!! I'm so thrilled and excited to making the rounds, being a happy blog-hopping bee and all! So, for the first WeWriWa, what could be more appropriate than a story about a man who found an ancient and magical weapon in his vegetable patch? Since he's out on parole, he tries to get rid of it quickly, but of course, with magical weapons, it's not as easy as throwing away gum wrapper: this is Artie Kendrick, and the Little White Hilt, sword of myth & legends.


He turned it within his palm, and the moon cast his light on the upper part of the blade. Artie's gaze fell upon an engraving on the steel.

He felt the roughness between his fingers, cold and sharp – when the letters came alive in front of his mind’s eye; a message, reflecting from the surface of the river, a voice, murmured from the far side of the reed.


A cold shiver ran down his spine. What kind of trick was this? 

A stir went through the river bank. Someone - or something - came tearing through the reeds.

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