The Peninsula

The Fiction and Poetry Archive of Liana Mir and scribblemyname

Stranger in the Storm



It was early evening at the great Summer Court, but it was storming outside and already quite dark. The lanterns and chandeliers had already been lit, and there were those who shivered when standing near any of the great windows of the royal hall. It had been winter for a very long time.




Joenna Janine Browning stood in front of a viewscreen staring at her five-year-old son. He was bound at the wrists humanely—small consolations—his whole body hunched over as he cried and railed in words that meant less than the intensity of the pain behind them.

“He’ll be a legend, Janenna.” The father’s voice practically glowed.

He had done this to their son. He had delivered him to the Projects without warning or consultation.

Janenna had heard of the Projects, decided not to volunteer herself as a potential supersoldier, never dreamed they were taking children.

She turned to her husband, soon to be ex. “One day, I will kill you for this.”