lalucediamore

Sunlight streaked through the blind slits, landing on the wall opposite. The random papering of the wall was first dark, then light, then dark – Dalia counted the stripes as voices filtered in one ear and out the other. She may be able to hear you … We can’t be sure how much longer … Dalia, do you remember that story …. Papa cracked that rainbow lolly right over her butt – she was red with spite … Dalia? Dalia? Dalia? Dalia wasn’t listening. She stared at the wall, counting the stripes, the swatches of colour, the texture of the paper. The hand in her own was stiff, puffy. It wasn’t fine and slend

THE CONFIDENTIAL FILES OF: DALIA EVELYN SMITH twenty nine / thought police ____________________ Dalia approached the mic, her fingers twisting nervously in her skirt, and in a meek voice, spelled out the word autochthonous. The sound of applause filled the auditorium and children lined behind her, their shoulders drooping in sadness as she claimed the trophy seat for 1995. On that day, no one could have guessed at the woman she would become. No one would have thought that this smiling, shy girl, would become the hardened, all-business woman she is today. I count it my fault, that she lives as she is. But then it isn’t any more my fau

Ellorei’s childhood was like that of many adolescent Blood Elves whose families are in high standing.  She, her siblings, and her friends were schooled daily by great teachers, lived the comfortable court life of a youngster, and were prepared to follow in the footsteps of their families.  Her own brother followed their father in the role of the Paladin, something that many Sin’belore men and women had done before him.  With her sharp mind, lust for valor and triumph and easy learning, it was thought that naturally, Ellorei would follow her brother.  But then the Scourge came. Away from the city for the week, Ellorei, her brother a