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

Subterranean Passion Below the Untamed Influence
by Telemachus van McCoy

   Waiting alone in the chill gloom of the crypt, with the uncivilized, unknowable, barely silent scent of almond blossoms and frangipani wafting in from outside, Miriam Asimov, Student Nurse, thought once more of the Chief’s handsome son, the one person left who could help her. He was now, according to Mark’s shocking revelation, struggling for life in the intensive care ward.
   Suddenly, came an eerie chill of premonition, and she leapt to her feet with hope — and alarm — in her eyes. He was here! “Without you I just plain ain’t nothin’, my angel — my porcelain angel!” he intoned.
   Just then, he excitedly began to show her his plans for the villa they were to share, and as the truth — the whole truth — slowly came home to her, she started to think about what they would call their children.

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