Stories Outside The Looking Glass: A Collection of Random Tales








Stories Outside The Looking Glass


An Anthology of Random Tales


By, Pierre Gilson

Stories Outside The Looking Glass: A Collection of Random Tales

Pierre Gilson



Published by Pierre Gilson at Shakespir



Copyright 2017 by Pierre Gilson

Table of Contents

Title Page


Table of Contents



A Stone Heart


Why Do Fools Fail

About the Author




From a bird’s eye view, the kingdom of Vuur trembled as the blistering echoes of horns

and wails alerted the king’s men. Tips of spears pointed skyward as every warrior searched for the fiend that assaulted their dear princess. The weeping of mothers and daughters angered the men as the reports of their princess weighed on their hearts.

Vuur’s citizens gathered in front of the Palace to await news on the princess’ condition. A

young man, no more than fifteen, hair cut in tribal angles and arches to honor his lineage, walked out to meet his fellow people. With a burden, so heavy, he said to all looking with unmoving eyes, “The flower has lost her charm. She has fallen from grace…”

“Noooo!” Other voices of denial and anger filled the palace’s steps.

A burly man trudged his way up the steps, furiously meeting the young soldier face to face. “What are we going to do now? The storms will approach and kill us all!”

“Please, my brother, calm yourself. The king will handle this, I am sure,” the young warrior replied with an ounce of sweat sliding down the back of his neck.

“My dearest daughter, please come out!” The king stood outside of the princess’ room

accompanied by the finest healers, shamans, and doctors in the nation. His personal guards stood behind them all to make sure he was always protected.

“No! I’ll never come out, father! I’m a monster!” The shatter of glass came from inside

the room. The king nodded for one of the guards to take down the door after he tired of begging his daughter to let them inside.


The door flung open to reveal a silhouette wrapped in a gold and crimson gown with sage

threads weaving through the silk linen. Her father rushed to his daughter, who now had her face hidden by a veil so that no one would dare see what evil has befallen her and her kingdom.

He placed his war-torn hands on his daughter’s face. “My greatest daughter, why has this kwaad, this curse plagued you?”

The princess’ tears fragranced the royal carpet in her room. She sobbed in her father’s

hands as she replied, “Eshu, father. It was Eshu that has placed his magic on me. I am no longer blessed by the seasons.” She screamed to the top of her lungs, “My beauty is gone. I am nothing…”

The king’s dark skin twisted to a boiling red. He commanded his men to send out a

message to all the greatest warriors and all who believe that they are worthy to bring the trickster god, Eshu, on his knees in front of his throne. He then said to his daughter, “We will find a way to return your beauty, my child. I promise you.”

The seas surrounding the kingdom were the most brutal of all the waters of the known

world. Vuur’s borders were always protected because of the remorseless tides and crushing

waves. More and more volunteers went to fulfill their king’s call to arms and adventure in hopes of a reward given to no other. Every man that set sail, itching to capture the conniving god, were filled with regret and fear as their deaths came swiftly and without purpose. As the king continued to receive news that more of his men were lost in either the depths of the sea or from wild beasts, he soon ran out of options.


In the late afternoon, as the sun peacefully set itself behind the mountains and grasslands, the young man with the unique haircut crept inside the palace’s main hall. A sheathed shotel

hung from his side as he held it to keep it from clanging against him. Two guards watched over a door that gained entry to the princess. The boy took a deep breath as he came out of hiding and walked over to the hulking men with confidence.

One of the guards saw him walking up. “Muoma, what are you doing here, you should be

cleaning the dishes with the women.” The other guard laughed, knowing that young warriors had to go through a hazing process before they could be true warriors.

“I’ve come to relieve you of duty until you return,” Muoma then turned his truth-telling

to a lie, “Commandant sent me himself.”

The guards looked at each other with pleased expressions. One guard took Muoma by the

shoulder and tossed him to his position by the door. “Stay right there and do not let anyone

inside. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand, ibutho,” Muoma responded with his hands bracing himself against

the wall.

“Good. We will be back in the morning before our shift ends.” The guards walked off and

out of sight, giving Muoma more time than he needed to do what needed to be done. Muoma knocked a special kind of knock that he’d done countless times before when no one was around. He soon heard weeping from inside, the soft whimpers of the girl he once called his best friend.

“Kalisha, open the door. It’s me Muoma.” She said nothing to him as her cries started to

bounce off the walls in the halls. “Please, Kalisha. I want to help you. Let me in, or at least come to the door.” The shuffles of sandals came to the door and stopped once he heard the latch release its lock. The princess slowly cracked open the door. Muoma could not see anything in the dark room; the princess blocked all light from entering her room.

“Kalisha, I—”

“It is all my fault, Muoma! If I gave him what he wanted, he wouldn’t have turned me

into a freak!” Some light laid on the princess’ hand allowing Muoma to see the decayed flesh and flaking skin that was once flawless and never without radiance.

“What did Eshu want?” Muoma moved closer to the crack of the door; his eyes shone a

shimmering brown.

The princess’ let out a held back groan. It sounded guttural and abnormal. “I did not take

him to be my husband. I told him that my heart lies elsewhere,” her hand slid down the door, her finger hesitantly inched over to Muoma’s hand. Muoma could not take her sadness any longer and pushed open the door and reached over to grab her hand.

“Do not freight, my princess. It is I who will restore you to your true self. I may not be a

ibutho, or rich with many jewels to blanket you with, but I am your friend, and I will do every and anything to make sure you are happy and well.” Kalisha ran into him and gave him an

unmistakable hug of gratitude.

“Thank you, Muoma. Please let don’t die because of me. You are my dearest friend, you

always have, even if I didn’t show it.”

Muoma gently pushed her off him as he made his way back to the door. “I will return as

soon as I can, Kalisha. Please keep the kingdom safe and your king calm.” He gave her a smile from the heart that would give her the belief that his return would be swift as his blade. The door shut and Muoma made his way to his boat awaiting him on the shore.

After Muoma had got onto his small boat, he gave the palace one last look as he drifted

into the far islands, where it was said that the God used them to sleep after his mischievous

deeds. He thought of the princess and how even though her face was shrouded, he could see her, he saw her for who she truly is, Muoma grabbed his oar and started to row into the Sea of Beyond.


Muoma’s boat floated above the water, calmly sailing to his first known location. He

headed to an island that travelers said bird-like creatures lived. He sailed until morning and

decided to rest and let the currents do all the work. He took a pear out of his bag as he looked up into the blue sky above. The clouds formed various animals; he supposed that maybe his journey would not be like the others that never made it back to Vuur. As he looked out into the infinite royal blue, a small dusky cloud drifted into his view. Another cloud came, this one bigger than the other. Soon, dark clouds appeared, all going to the direction of his kingdom.

“It is starting, the storm approaches my people,” Muoma said as he clenched his oar.

There was no time to waste; he had to bring the god of trickery back to his king so that his friend can be made well.


An island approached. Sand covered the entire island, all but a handful of trees stood. His

boat rocked as it came to a stop. Muoma hopped off the boat to get a look around. The island looked deserted at first glance but a strange feeling as if he were being watched caused his body to numb.

From above a voice regarded him. “It is only a boy, only a boy.” It sounded like a parrot

but much bigger. Muoma was overshadowed as he looked above to see huge feathers swoop down and land behind him. Muoma fell back at the sight of this, man-bird beast. Red feathers covered it from head to toe, but its body fit that of a human. “Hey, boy. What are you doing on my island, my island?”

Muoma wrapped his hand around the hilt of his blade as he replied, “I’m looking for Eshu, the God of Trickery. I was told that he comes to the islands to fill his belly and sleep.”

“Eshu isn’t here; he isn’t here,” the man-bird replied.

“Do you know where he is?” The man-bird’s feathers sprawled after Muoma asked his

question. Its beak opened, and it gave a shriek that immediately caused Muoma to pull out his shotel. Its sharp blade angered the bird as it kicked dirt behind it. Without a second to analyze his situation Muoma dived out of the way out of instinct as the beast somehow flew straight at him without him seeing it coming.

“Calm yourself. I do not want to hurt you,” Muoma said as he returned to his feet.

The feathers of the bird quivered as it slowly stalked Muoma. “You want to slay my

master. You want to harm him; you want to harm him.” The bird took flight and swooped down at Muoma. Muoma swung his blade as he somersaulted out of the way, piercing the beast’s hindquarters,

It tasted the sand as it crashed. Muoma’s sandal forced it back down as it tried to get up to surely attack him again.

“Please. I do not want to harm anyone. All I want is to talk with Eshu and have him cure

my princess,” Muoma placed his sword back in its sheath and removed his foot after the manbird calmed down.

It looked at him, breathing in the air around him. “You are noble, very noble. I don’t

know how long it is going to last you on your journey.”

“If I am alive then it serves me well,” Muoma then asked, “Now, can you tell me where

your master is?”

“He is on the second island. You must traverse pass the Leviathan, the Leviathan.”

Muoma thanked the bird as he helped it back on its legs. He walked it beside his

boat so that it could drink the fresh water. “Please take some food to help with your wound,” he ended as he got on his boat. The bird graciously accepted his offer. Muoma pushed off the shore with his sturdy oar and drifted on his new route to the second island.


The winds roughly blew Muoma’s topsail as his boat tried to stay on course. The storm

clouds twisted the sky and as time went by, the peaceful sky from before faded away. He rowed with every muscle he had in him, almost giving up from exhaustion. A wave came and tilted his boat to its side. Muoma rushed to the opposite side and shifted the weight back to the side in the air before it sunk. He hanged on the side of the boat as he legs dangled. To his good fortune, the boat fell back on its haul. Muoma, relieved, looked out into the sea to see that he already arrived at the island, a puzzling mystery as to how it came to be. The black sky did not help him to get a look at his surroundings. Muoma took out his blade as he slowly left his boat. He did not like the feeling he got when the man-bird stalked him, and on this island, he sensed more than one set of eyes following him as he walked on the sand and grass. He faintly made out the enormous vegetation and tree growth as he continued into the island. Muoma walked blinded inside the jungles of the second island, his hand embracing his blade. He thought of Kalisha, their friendship, and the promise he made to her. Even if he did not want to go and face whatever lied in wait for him, Muoma swore an oath, and he would never go back on his word.

Muoma continued to walk for miles in search of a leviathan. He had yet to see it, and besides the eyes that glowed in the darkness, he doubted if it still lived on the island. Strange light started to appear up ahead; he ran to check what promoted such a welcoming guest. He stopped in his tracks once he saw a blossoming tree glimmering around a small moat. On the trees, branches grew the most bizarre and rare fruits that no man had ever set their eyes on in this lifetime. He walked over to the moat and peered inside to see luminous fish swimming around. Muoma leaped over them effortlessly and focused his attention on the tree. He reached for one of the many fruits and picked it off the tree.


The ground beneath his feet started to rock everything left and right. The eyes in the woods fled as the island rose from the depths of the water. Muoma did the only thing he could think of doing; he ran as hard as he could back to his boat. Muoma slashed away at the vines and branches in his way until the island titled, as the boat did, to the left. He fell, hitting himself against trees and flailing into thorns. He saw the island’s edge approaching, and before he could fall to his death, he clenching on a free vine. The vine let him swing off the island until he lost momentum, and hung placidly.

“What—” Muoma’s words fell into the sea below as the island true form stood in front of him. The Island was not an island at all but a creature only from fantasy. It had to be the mightiest beast in the entire world. To Muoma, the giant beast looked like a shark and a serpent, but whether if it did or did not be the least of his worries.


The beast shook Muoma off the vine, letting him fall. It caught the young warrior by a finned claw and brought him to his wide and intimidating face. Muoma sat on the claw of the beast with nothing to say. The fruit, remarkably still in his possession fell on his side. The beast’s slit eyes looked at it and then back towards Muoma with a snarl.

Muoma took the fruit, investigating it. “Does this belong to you, my friend?” The creature snorted, blowing a tempest that caused Muoma to slide back. “I apologize for my thievery. I did not know this belonged to you.” Muoma extended his hand, “Please, take back what is yours. I do not mean to be untrustworthy and to take what is not mine.” The beast looked at him, unsuspectingly lowering his claw. A leopard pounced down from the island that is the beast’s back. It snatched the fruit from Muoma’s hand and climbed back up with the assistance of its landlord.

The beast then started at him, as if deciding his fate. Muoma figured that he had no other

options but to ask, “Are you this leviathan that the man-bird as sent me to see?” The beast shook its head as if shaking water off or confirming his question. “Well if you are can you please help me find Eshu, God of Trickery. I am sorry for waking you from your slumber and stressing you out. I do however need to keep a promise I made to a friend, she and my kingdom are in trouble if I don’t find him. He is the only on that can save them both.” The beast lifted its claw in the air, giving Muoma a look at the world around him. He could see another island nearby. “Is that where Eshu is?” The beast snorted, he took it as a yes, this time.

The beast placed Muoma’s boat on the route to the last island as he also sat his claw next to the boat for him to walk on. Muoma thanked the best for forgiving him for stealing its belongings. The beast ignored him as it fell back in the water, creating a massive wave that knocked Muoma’s boat high into the air, covering much distance.

Muoma passed through the building storm without a problem, thanks to the Leviathan, or whatever the creature was called. The island was now in view, and he could see an overly decorated hut made of gold and fine gems near the shore. As his boat slid against the sand, he did not take any moment to rest. He launched himself out of the boat and ran to the door of the richly built home. He stopped at the door and prepared to knock, and once his fist hit the door, he lost control of his body. Muoma paused, his eyes erratically looked everywhere as he tried to figure out what caused this predicament. If Eshu slept, it would be hours before he would wake. A seagull flew on Muoma’s stilled should, pecking at his head. He grumbled for it to get off, and it did, but not without leaving its lunch behind.


“Where’s security when you need em, am I right?” The voice of someone coming to the

door woke Muoma out of his nap. He did not recall falling asleep, but fortunately, someone came to the door. The door opened to reveal an impish-looking man with an elegant robe and jewelry.

The man looked up at Muoma, “Oh, it’s only the human you told me about.” Inside the home, the man-bird from before was eating seeds off a table made of pure silver. “Yi Pue,” Muoma immediately fell at the man’s small feet. His body felt heavy and stiff as he stood on his knees, still taller than the imp in front of him.

As he heaved away, Muoma said, “Eshu, God of Trickery, please save the princess—”

“Stop, stop, stop. You are making me feel bad. I already know what you want, I’ve been watching you, Muoma.”

“You have?” Muoma rubbed the side of his stiff neck.

“Yes. Who else you think let you go toe to toe with Kese,” he pointed to the man-bird that now had a beak full of seeds. “I needed to know how far someone would go for a friend.

You may see it already, but humans are a selfish sort. Only doing things that benefit them with no consideration for others, truly despicable.”

Muoma thought of what the princess told him why he cursed her. “Eshu,” he mustered up the strength before answering, “didn’t you curse my princess because she denied to wed you?”

Eshu eyed Muoma with agitation for a moment. He replied after careful consideration, “I

did, but also because she became full of herself. Her beauty led her to believe she was above every human. I had no choice but to teach her humility.”

“I ask you on her behalf to save her and my kingdom. There is nothing in this world I rather have than the wellbeing of those that I call friends and family to remain.” Muoma groveled at the Eshu’s feet, pleading his cause.

“Calm yourself, Muoma. I will heal your princess so that your kingdom will be saved.”

Muoma, so joyful, reached over and gave Eshu, God of Trickery, one of the strongest hugs that even made the god gasp for air.

Muoma got up and directed Eshu to his boat. “Please, this way so that I can take you to Vuur.”

Eshu stopped him in his tracks. “I’m not going anywhere. This is a minor curse, watch my fingers, young warrior.” Eshu took his middle finger and thumb and waved them in the air.

Dazzling colors sparked traveled across them, Muoma watched in disbelief, and with a quick snap, it was over. “Alright, your princess is healed and your kingdom is saved. Go home, Great Hero That Saved Vuur.” Eshu then slammed his door shut, leaving Muoma outside in awkward silence.


Upon arriving at his kingdom, Muoma had no troubles getting back home. The storm clouds were gone and the royal sky, like his princess, made his travels enjoyable. He entered the town to see a crowd of grateful citizens, his brothers, and sisters. The guards escorted him to the palace to meet the king. He entered his king’s domain with great respect. The king graciously

gave him a hug of his own as Muoma walked inside.

“Young warrior, it is my greatest honor to now call you, Ibutho. You are the hero of this land and a hero of my home,” the king’s smile stretched far and wide.

“My king, all I wish is to speak to the princess to make sure she is alright. I am honored to be an ibutho, but her condition is all that worries me,” Muoma replied.

“Then please, go to her. I would not have it any other way, ibutho.”

At the king’s command, Muoma was taken to the princess’ quarters. He approached her door and gave a simple knock but no answer. He then, without much choice, gave his special knock for the guards to witness. Her door swung open so fast that it took a moment for him to

catch her in his arms. Her stellar hair waved in his face and her skin melted with his as his

happiness returned at seeing her.

“Thank you, Muoma. I am truly blessed to have you in my life. You never left my

side,” she cried in his arms as too cried.

He replied as her emerald eyes peered into his, “My princess, it is all I ever wanted to do.” The king came up the steps to see the young man and young woman locked in an embrace that would solidify his kingdom’s prosperous future one day. He smiled once again, knowing that Muoma’s sacrifice was genuine and he would always give his all to help others.

A Stone Heart



Two shadows trudged uphill, both submerged in deep darkness as their protective covering received only faint glimmers of moonlight. A knight dawning alabaster armour placed his arm in front of his companion.

The other man paused and looked at what lied ahead. A cavern that smelled of fire and brimstone awaited both to enter to continue their task. “Sir Kendrick, we need to leave this Godforsaken place!”

“I will not leave,” the Knight struck him with an antagonistic gaze, “and neither will you until our duty to our kingdom is complete, Ironhide.” He dispatched his blade; it hummed as it split still air in half. “Now, let us go and slay this demon…”


The white knight and his cohort crept through the serpent’s lair. Into an empty void of sightlessness and anxiety, they ventured, touching walls to help guide them down the invisible web of tunnels and passageways. Further into the cave faint sounds of either growls or moans slipped into the ears of both men.

The groggy tones left droplets of sweat on Ironhide’s worried face; he wiped them off with the sleeve of his cloak that covered most of his armour. The energy that shifted uncontrollably throughout the creature’s home squeezed his life stem tighter with every step.

The chivalrous champion pushed through the terror that continued to come at him like strong tides that crushed legions of ships at sea. Unlike his compatriot, the more intense the pressure, the harder he gripped his blade, borrowing strength from his endowed title and what came with it. The praise of those who adorned him coursed through him thicker than blood. He gritted his teeth with the renewal of passion for cutting the beast at its throat.

“We are almost there, can’t you feel the heat of its blistering flames as it breathes its last breaths?” The knight walked until he stepped on a floor so smooth and slippery that he fell on his back. He shifted his body over to pick himself up, jangles of coins falling concerned Ironhide as he reached over to give the White Knight aid.

Ironhide gripped his hand, “This place is cursed. The longer we stay, the more death will come for us. If we go back to—”

A gloved hand protected by chainmail knocked Ironhide across the endless golden treasure that neither could make out even if they tried.

A set of red and black eyes flashed open high above the feuding pair. They swept through every part, searching for the disturbance.

“I knew you would only be a deterrent. I will never see why the King thinks so highly of you,” The knight stood on both feet and picked up his sword beneath a pile of coins and jewels. His eyes rode every area of his sharpened blade, asking it the only question he thought about while on this quest. “If I kill you now it’ll save everyone the grief of having to see your spineless face ever again…”

“What are you saying? This place is making you mad, Sir Kendrick,” Ironhide backed away towards another passage.

Thoom! Thoom!

The gold beneath their feet leaped high into the air, raining down with stinging apathy on the men. The floor trembled as slithers of scales on gold and wet tongue lingered nearby.


Ironhide braced his back on a wall in the passage as his nation’s champion fell again after stumbling away from Ironhide and the only way to escape. The den convulsed and vibrated, creating an uproar that terrified Ironhide. Suddenly the rocky walls and clashing of gold came to an immediate stop.

“Ironhide, help me!” The white knight reached out for his companion, not seeing the moth-like flutters of scarlet flares rising to the top of the den. Sharp talons etched the stone ground beneath gold, searing the knight’s ears with a screeching hiss. He pleaded, begged his associate for him to save him. “Ironhide, come to my aid now!” In the spot by the passage where Ironhide stood, there was nothing but the diminished thoughts of survival for the renowned knight. His companion vanished, he had been abandoned, deserted to face the monstrous beast king alone. Heavy steps started making their way to him. A sinister zephyr pummeled his face as the creature roared, flames falling from the curvature of its colossal mouth. His armour weighed on him more than he thought possible, he struggled to keep himself on one knee. He gripped his blade and struck it in the ground to brace himself as he gasped for air. Each inhale he took tasted like burning coals mixing around in his throat. The atmosphere around him changed altogether; it became hotter than the desert sun.

A whirlwind of orange and crimson fire mixed in the mouth of the bane that distorted the natural peace and harmony of the world. The white knight’s blue eyes changed to an alternating violet hue as the flame prepared to char him into nothing but pitch black ash.

“Help me. My God, help me…” Seeing the drake in the vivid light caused him to regret accepting this unholy task. He awaited death as the flames blew past him, making way through his flesh, baking him into a meal for the beast king to devour whole.

Why Do Fools Fail



Outside their hotel room, Greg Larsson sat with his assistant, pupil, coworker, and occasional lover.

“Ramona, I wanted to tell you this before, but I can’t raise our child. She’s already given me a warning to stay away from you. I’m risking my entire life talking to you now,” Greg said, clasping his hands together, eyeing down at the table.

Ramona brushed aged golden locks out of her sight. “What? You can’t raise the baby you impregnated me with? F*** your wife! What about me?”

“I-I’ve sent $130,000 to your savings and another 2,000 to checking. You’ll be fine. I’ve already issued a college fund for your baby. All you need to do is either stay away and if you can’t…move.”

Office files abandoned her grasp; she spent the previous night prepping for a fruitful merger between their distribution company and a new production studio. She didn’t notice them as they fell on the floorboards.

“You- you are a sad, pitiful man, Greg Larsson. I don’t know what I saw in you for the past eighteen years. I guess it was the sex because you sure couldn’t manage your money without me. Do me a favor, go get yourself Johnnie Cochran because you are gonna have to lawyer up. I’m taking everything our baby needs, and she needs a bigger house.”


In the hotel parking lot, an emerald Nissan Elgrand pulled up in front of Greg’s hotel room. A woman, mid-40s, with a fresh tan, walked up with a key that connected to a purple rabbit’s tail.

“Please, Ramona. We ca-.”, a shadowy figure standing at the opened door frightened Greg. He didn’t hear the door handle turn. Standing in a terrifying stance, his wife stared at him and then glanced at his assistant. “Baby! I didn’t know you were coming. I wasn’t doing anything”.

“I know, Greg. You two are outside looking like someone just shot Old Yeller again. Other than that, the sheets and covers aren’t all over the place. I did get my Masters in Investigative Journalism. You could never keep everything from me, even if you tried,” she said, walking to the screen door and turned to Ramona. “Hi, home wrecker!” an artificial smile imprinted on her face.

“Hello, Clara. I’m really sorry about the affair, but you need to kno-.“

Clara Larsson reached over and placed her finger on Ramona’s lip.

“Hush child, I didn’t come here to talk.” She looked over to Greg. “Handle this. I’ll be waiting.” Clara walked away. A small hesitation caused her to pause for a brief moment. A chair in the corner of the room was all by its lonesome. She grabbed the chair, placed it by the door, and made herself comfy.

Greg looked at her and swayed his attention to Ramona.

“Well, talk”, Clara said, pulling out a stick of gum, affirming her stay.

“Ahem. Um. Ramo-Ramona, I need you to think of what your saying. Please. We don’t want-.“

“We?” Ramona’s eyebrows arched.


Ramona never noticed how much of a wimp Greg Larsson was until now. There used to be a time when she believed he could have been a White Knight in medieval times. Now everything he did seemed jest. She hadn’t notice that he wore the everose gold Rolex; she bought it for him during one of their secret trips. During the time, his wife taught at a Canadian college when he received two tickets to Rome from one of his coworkers. That watch was costly, she wanted it to be special. Ramona only wanted to present a fraction of her love and affection for him. Now, he casted it all away, all but the watch.


“I don’t understand something, Greg.” Ramona edged closer to him.

Greg turned to his wife and looked back at Ramona. His wife continued chewing her gum, playing a game on her phone.

“Greg, why did you cheat on your wife? I have good reason to believe that I’m not the only woman, am I?” Greg’s hands trembled. Clara continued to play her game.

“You see, that’s the watch I bought you. I purchased that watch with my own money. You are quick when it comes to toss me aside, but why not give me back the watch? Huh?”

“You want the watch?” he removed it off his wrist, “Take it. I forgot that you even gave it to me. I thought it was a gift from my wife.”

Clara paused her game. “Don’t continue to lie, Greg. You love that watch. You love anything that has a dollar sign and curves.”

“Well, I, um. Look, Ramona. We can come to some agreement if necessary. It doesn’t have to be this way,” Greg said, giving his wife a side eye.

“Greg.” Ramona stood up and walked to the screen door. “You can keep this watch and everything I got you. I’ll make sure my daughter will have everything she needs. I assure you on that.”

Clara Larsson placed her attention on Ramona, as she tossed the watch on the bed, making her way to the door.

“You did better than the others, you’ll be alright,” Clara said while she moved her chair out of the way.

Ramona stopped and looked down at her, “No I won’t. I’ll be very satisfied.”

The door opened and closed, leaving the husband and wife in utter silence.  

About the Author




Besides writing fiction, Pierre works as a public relations officer and creative writer for sci-fi/fantasy publisher, EPOCH Studios. He enjoys writing screenplays and scripts for film and television. Pierre loves to travel, participate in athletic events, and spend time by himself in movie theaters. He lives in northern Florida, serving his country through the US military as he earns his BFA in Creative Writing at Full Sail University.




Stories Outside The Looking Glass: A Collection of Random Tales

Drinks on Me brings two best friends, Jesse Alexander and Rachel Delilah Flowers, together for one night out in Los Angeles’ nightlife. During their time of celebrating their achievements and friendships, truths are revealed that may sever their relationship indefinitely. Why Do Fool Fail?, Greg Larsson calls his longtime girlfriend and mistress, Romana, to meet him at a private hotel to hopefully end things civilly. His wife forces him to close that chapter of his book so that they can move on with their life. The only problem Greg faces is that Romana is pregnant with his child and she’s not giving up getting what she is owed. Muoma is a tale about a young warrior in a world of magic and gods. A curse has been placed on his princess by a vengeful god who throws their entire kingdom into chaos. Muoma takes up the task to save his dear friend as well as his kingdom before everything he cares about crumbles into ash.

  • Author: Pierre Gilson, Jr
  • Published: 2017-05-01 05:20:08
  • Words: 5791
Stories Outside The Looking Glass: A Collection of Random Tales Stories Outside The Looking Glass: A Collection of Random Tales