The world is made up of much more than brave heroes and spineless fools. Every person in every land, of every color, of every psyche - cold or hot, black or white, sad or glad, good or ill - are part of a great story; a rolling, thundering epic, starring nameless faces and every soul who has ever inhaled even a single breath. Invisible people you'll never meet, forgotten by time, stolen away in a gust of wind just outside of your temporal reach.

(Author's Note: I don't write many short stories, but my local writing group had a prompt for the first line of a story, and I took it and used it, along with a germ of an idea taken from an Andrew Peterson song, Coral Castle,"'I don't need her love to love her all I can." I love the way it turned out, one of the few shorts I'm actually proud of. Enjoy! ~Kay)

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             The sword flashed down toward Gerhard’s neck; his sister’s muffled scream came from somewhere behind him and he winced at the sight of the blade descending and closed his eyes tightly. Time slowed as the sword moved. His life flashed before his eyes; in his mind he screamed to God for help. The seconds seemed like an eternity; he felt himself falling into a bottomless pit and he could not pull himself out. He wondered what it would feel like when the cold steel penetrated his neck.

            “Gerhard!”

The boy jerked his head around to look at the girl on the other side of the marketplace.

            “Just a minute,” he yelled back and turned once more to the farmer across from him. He handed Alcander’s bridle to the man and spoke again. “Are you sure you know the way?” The big man nodded and fastened the leather reins to the back of his vegetable cart.