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  1. Faces: Chapter 2

    "Vasya! Vasya!"
    It was midday in March, and Vasily was walking down the street, when a young boy about 10 years old came running up to him.
    "Ilya! How good to see you again! How were your classes today?" Vasily hugged him and patted his head, and so they walked together down the road.
    "It was alright. Arithmetic is still hard though. There was a test today, I don't think I did so well."
    "Ah, that's too bad."
    "But you
  2. Faces: Chapter 1

    The weather was bitterly cold.

    Few people were walking in the streets that afternoon. A storm was brewing to the west, and no prompting was needed to keep people indoors: wind gusts were like knives, and showers of flurries here and there felt more like fire when they hit the face.

    Vasily Sergeyevich walked on. He had 2 more blocks to go.

    He was returning from his rehearsal with the theater orchestra, and the heavy briefcase in his arms was his bassoon.
  3. Huilu's "Wandering Tower" Story Blog: Feedback please!!!

    Yeah, back when blogs were started here, I called my entire short story section of my blog "The Wandering Tower" Blog, named after one of Prokofiev's own creations. I was very excited to find out that he wrote lots of short stories too, we must have many things in common after all.

    So what did you think of the latest story I posted? It took me a long long time to do the actual historical research, in which I melded fictional events into. You may never know which are real
  4. Anton: Chapter 25, Part III (Denouement)

    Two weeks later, Anton Stepanovich was dead. He embraced one of his books while he died, weeping with his last breaths they say. The book was flipped to this poem:

    A Wish
    The days drag on, each moment multiplies
    Within my wounded heart the pain and sadness
    Of an unhappy love and, dark, gives rise.
    To sleepless dreams, the haunting dreams of madness
    But I do not complain - instead, I weep;
    Tears bring me solace, comforted they leave me.
  5. Anton: Chapter 25, Part II

    It was early February when he was in his room staring up at the ceiling, when he heard a knock on the door.
    "Who's there?"
    "It's me, Sergei Ivanovich. I want to see you."
    "Come in," Anton still stared at the ceiling.
    Sergei Ivanovich wasn't alone. Sergei Vasilievich, Anton's colleague who he played piano duos with, and also Sasha and Anatol Konstantinovich were all there. All of them looked very grave but also very alarmed.
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