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Rough adobe chaffed his back as the thugs rammed him against it in an attempt to knock him unconscious.  He’d had a couple too many, was in no condition to fight back.  He cursed his stupidity.  They trifled clumsily through his pockets, claiming his valuables before setting their eyes on the gold chain peeking out above his shirt collar.

No--

He felt the weighty amulet slide effortlessly across his chest and over his head and was unable to stop its progress.  The thugs dealt a sharp blow to the back of his neck and left him reaching out weakly.
©2008-2009 ~007-LoneHeartstring
:icon007-loneheartstring:

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A dream of a memory of a terror. Meet Wolfram.

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November 1, 2008
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