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Temporary Service Interruption + New Link

I apologize to those following along for the lack of updates on Pariah. This week has been surprisingly busy and very tiring, but productive in other “quality of life” ways. I promise I will be caught up on Pariah long before Sunday.

You might also have noticed a new section on the sidebar. It’s a section for the blogroll and, though there’s only one so far, it’s a doozy.

Script Bird Fiction is the eponymous author’s repository for short fiction, which she’ll be updating weekly. I’m sure she’d appreciate if everyone who came here popped on over there and offered her comments and support as she leaps full-steam into the world of internet blogging.

I swear, I’m not as lazy as I seem,

Shelby

 
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Posted by on March 10, 2011 in Updates

 

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Pariah (ii)

They sit on the edge of a small patio, attached to the body of the dojo and facing the waterfall, the forest above it. The town’s wall, tall stalks of bamboo that has yellowed with age, terminates at the woods’ edge. Kiori dangles his legs in the air, kicks them back and forth with the impatient energy of all children. He looks up at the waterfall, over to the trees and down the road in turn, his attention never remaining in one place for long. His father simply stares straight ahead, feet planted, but knee twitching uneasily.

“You’ve fallen behind in your training, again.”

Kiori’s legs stop moving, then begin again with increased speed and intensity, but his eyes are focused straight down at the stone walkway. They remain there, as though stuck, while his father takes the rare opportunity—his youngest son, listening!—to continue speaking.

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Posted by on March 8, 2011 in Writing

 

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Pariah (i)

“Kiori!”

The voice echoes against bamboo walls, audible over the roar of the waterfall that ends just inside their border, at the edge of a thriving forest. Tall stalks of bright green encircle Eiji as he enters deeper into the closest copse, mid-day sun dimmed to stray slivers by the tight canopy. He walks briskly, with purpose, each footfall sure and certain, but almost silent, never heavy. Eiji’s broad shoulders slump, feet stop in place, not for fear of being lost, but of an emotional weariness he can’t shake. He takes one last step forward, branch almost catching on his loose ponytail as he slips under it, and stands erect, scanning the forest with jade eyes.

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Posted by on March 7, 2011 in Writing

 

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