For your reading pleasure, Tempest presents yet another exquisite example of romantic narrative…

Beside the Silent Influence
by Esther Wells, USAF

   Waiting alone in the now-familiar confines of Kirk’s grass hut, with the untamable scent of almond blossoms and frangipani wafting in from outside, the frightened girl thought once more of the Chief’s handsome son, the man she had belonged to so completely. He was now, according to the gypsy woman, a prisoner in the very castle he had once owned.
   Suddenly, came a flurry of activity, and she shut her eyes tight for one moment of silent prayer. He was here! “I couldn’t stay away, you whose lips have unquenchable central heating!” he rumbled.
   At long last he dabbed at her tears with the handkerchief she herself had made for him, and as it dawned on her that her days of loneliness were over, she wordlessly let her body melt against his own.

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