Night StudyBook - 2016
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Disoriented, dry-mouthed and dizzy – the all-too-familiar aftereffects of sleeping potion. My blurry vision sharpened, along with the ache in my temples. I wished I hadn’t opened my eyes, but I couldn’t unsee the bars surrounding me or unsmell the wet, mucky dungeon stench mixed with the acrid odor of burned lantern oil – another aspect that I was well acquainted with.
Perhaps it was time to reexamine my life.
The shadows of grief haunted his expression. More that any one person should be asked to bear. But that was the problem with grief. No one ever asked for it. It arrived with its bags already packed for an extended stay.
The loud clatter of hooves over cobblestones vibrated in my ears. I let the sound drown out the voice in my head. Being very familiar with that voice, I knew it would list all the horrors that might have befallen my brother, remark on the slim chance of successfully finding him alive and comment on every other terrible scenario. That voice was rather creative when stressed and worried.
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