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Real friendships were based on common interests, not shared roofs

2: Abode By: Aya Bassiouny The old building comprising the dormitory was in the shape of a medieval church, Miranda thought. Its garlanded windows, large and arched, were segmented into panes of stained glass. Inside, the walls were the color of sunset, a pastel citrus mesh that scented a beginning she could not quite figure. There was a carpeted spiral stairway connecting the building’s seven floors, conforming to her expectation, but also a crank elevator of which some buttons still faintly flickered, while most were out of light. A scene from a Greek myth colored the vault’s curvature–Zeus, Hermes, and maybe … Continue reading Real friendships were based on common interests, not shared roofs

“Your wound, I know the cure,” he muttered in the Saracen tongue, which I had learned to mastery before the journey.

The Healer of Montgisard By: Aya Bassiouny We were told before we departed that a man’s life cannot be taken, unless he gives it away; that if we wish to guard our souls, we hold fast to the sword, for the soul that dives to battle takes it wing from the limbs. But on the ship to Ascalon there was already the scent of death. The ones we loved we kissed good-bye and rode the waves as if there was no coming back, our long green mantles wafting atop our shoulderblades. We were sailing eastward to our dog days and … Continue reading “Your wound, I know the cure,” he muttered in the Saracen tongue, which I had learned to mastery before the journey.