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When the book was stolen, one lost a legacy, and another died to live in hopes of gaining it. And as planned ‘time’ did not lose its path therefore nothing could stop what would be. On ancient leather sandals the Twa had walked for a hundred miles, the delivery was small yet long overdue all because of an unturned key in a casket. The journey had taken him over the barren, highest dunes of the Sahara Desert, through days hot enough to fry sand vipers and nights so cold he hardly dared to breathe. He was the size of a small dwarf, and his steps were bird-like, which made his journey doubly long—he moved from side to side as much as forward, forever threatening to tangle himself in his ankle-length robe. He would no more have thought of removing it, though, than his sandals or mashada, the
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You posted this opening in the Fragments and Feedback for Books area, then in the Fragments and Feedback for Short Works area, then in the Writing Challenges area (where it does not belong because it is NOT a writing challenge, by the way), and now here.
Is this a 136,000 word novel or a short story?
Why are you posting this opening in so many places?
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