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Will’s Shorts:

“The Cerulean Stone”: A Tale from Bowescroft

Copyright 2013

Smashwords Edition

“The stone itself isn’t worth that much,” said the man with the pony tail, “but it was my grandmother’s and has great sentimental value. It’s a pretty thing: blue as the summer sky. Gran used to wear it on a necklace. She called it her cerulean gem. Never heard anyone else use the word before.”

“It means blue,” said Renthrette.

“Well, rather more than that,” I interjected. “It’s more of an azure with a hint of cyan. It’s a vivid, fresh…”

“It means blue,” said Renthrette again, giving me a level stare.

I shrugged and gave Pony Tail an encouraging nod.

He pulled a locket from inside his shirt and cracked it open. Inside was a passable miniature painting of an elderly lady with long, iron gray hair and a nose that looked like the prow of a ship: huge and sharp as an axe. But one look at those steely eyes and you guessed no one made fun of her nose much.

The gem hung on a silver chain around her neck, and she was toying with it in one strong hand.

“I don’t mind telling you,” he said, “that I also want it back to get one over on that crooked estate manager.”

“You have plans of the house?” asked Mithos.

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