Angry Papyrus Novels & Stories

Leo just grunts and mutters something about “cocky bastards.” I take the parchment back. Everyone is watching. Ronan. Naomi. Bella. Morwen. Probably the Moon, for all I know. “I’m tired of men thinking I’m their prize,” I say. Then, I hold the parchment over a nearby torch. The flame licks up fast—sharp, hungry—curling his words into blackened ash. I keep my hand steady until it’s too hot to hold, then drop it to the packed earth and watch it finish burning.

“Okay, tonight we’ll proceed. Just before the moon rises!” * * * * * * * * * * * Max angrily flipped through the pages of the books, frustration building up inside of her until she couldn’t contain it any longer. With a burst of anger, she hurled the book she was holding to the ground, feeling the release of tension in that single moment.

Then, taking a seat on the ground, I begin to read. The papers inside the file are old, frayed and yellowed. They are papyrus, something I seldom see in the pack anymore. Then, ever so carefully, o lift up the first piece of frayed paper and hold it near. The penmanship on the papyrus is fading, making it hard to decipher what had been written on it.