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A Short Story Collection by Peter Stone

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Dreams Forsaken

-year-old niece as she sat next to me. The lantern I had

-laden

cobwebs clung to every wooden beam, workbench and table, causing her to shudder.

I glanced at her innocent face untouched by grief, and wished yet again that I had been born in her

le in my threadbare black mourning

dress.

themselves over broken chairs and dilapidated benches. I bit my lip to keep deep inner pain at bay.

answered after a moment.

man dressed in the garb of a common mercenary. I laid a hand on her forearm to reassure her.

Aged wooden floorboards groaned under unaccustomed weight as the man approached us. Cold eyes

n an icy tone that matched his expression.

Returning his attention to me, the man slapped a cloth purse on the run-down table before us. I

refused to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging the money.

ou feel better now? Did

justice for the magnitude of their crimes. I will not permit those murdering vermin to do such heinous deeds

A cloud of dust swirled upward into twinkling lantern light as I plucked the purse from the table.

backward glance. He vanished into the midnight air.

My niece found her

the past twenty-

distance.

e, you sound as though you disapprove. Did not those rebels kill your parents

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