Shocked by his thin sheets soaked in cold water Rusty jolted up, and out of his cot, “Damn it, Sid!” Rolling over still hung-over from the night that had just recently ended Sid mumbled “wha’ did I do this time?”
“Well you never built the ditches outside the shack, to stop the flooding.” Rusty replied while rushing around with a bucket, scooping up the water and tossing it out the window.
“I’ll get it done today, just let me sleep a little longer, why don’t you go get food with that money we scammed from those idiots, who thought we were heroes.” Sid replied while rolling back over,and snickering a little bit.
“Fine but by the time I get back those ditches, better be dug. I’m sick of waking up to the surprise of cold water in my bed every time the tide decides to rise more than usual.” Slamming the door Rusty headed off.
While heading to the market square, people stopped Rusty left, and right thanking him for slaying the cultists with his brave comrade, and putting, an end to the mysterious abductions, while handing him every little bit of coin that they had. By the time he had reached the gates to Market Square, he had accumulated, about double the amount of silver that had been awarded to him the night before. Even though Rusty had developed some type of conscious, didn’t mean that he had decided to put thievery behind him, he still had to live somehow.
Upon walking through the gates, the building seemed to magically transform before his eyes. Small run down wooden shacks, with broken roofs, and steps, warped into multiple leveled stone buildings, which had wooden poles, to hang signs, and flags designed to advertise the owners’ shops’. Not only did the buildings change, but the people as well. The clothing style had changed from old, ratty, worn down clothes made of animal hide, and leather, to extravagant silk robes, and shirts. Also there were no beggars in sight, but in replace of them city guards, roamed keeping peace, and keeping the beggars where they belonged.
While walking through, and shopping, for food to cook for the night, Rusty spotted a mass of people gathered around a podium. Making his way through the crowd bumping into everyone, while managing to swipe a couple purses along the way, he finally made his way to the front of the crowd. On the podium stood three guards detaining a woman, the woman was of elven decent, she wore a fine purple silk robe, with gold trim. The guard raised a staff in the air, and started to speak with a firm voice. “It seems as if we have found, a mage living amongst us! And do you all know what we do with mages!?” The crowd quickly responded by shouting “Execution!” while throwing food at her. “Once she is convicted by the courts she will be sent to, the gallows!”
Soon enough the crowd dispersed, and life went back to normal. As Rusty went on with his business he started to hear talk about the woman through the market square. After trying to stay out of the business that was going on he couldn’t help but eavesdrop on a couple talking about her. Whispering in a light voice a woman spoke while looking around making sure not to draw to much attention “I would have never expected Ileana to be a mage. She has been a respected apothecary ever since she was a young girl.” With a stern voice the man replied “Yeah, but it shows how trustworthy those elves are, we give them an escape from the horrid wilderness, and what do they do, they bring it with em’. The only reason she had been successful in the first place, is because the old town apothecary saw something in her. If it were me I would have sent her to the cove, where the rest of the outcasts belong.” After gathering information, about the young elven woman Rusty had an Idea. He soon gathered all his groceries, and money that he had stolen from the folk in the crowd, and rushed home.
As the heavy fog set down upon Swashbuckler’s Cove that night, all were celebrating the cleansing, of the local caves located in the mountains that have always gazed over the kingdom of Valley Hold with its taunting eyes. But, tonight was like none ever seen before in the godforsaken harbor. Every bastard, thief, beggar, and outcast of the slums gathered, at the Goose neck Tavern, for none had to live in fear of being abducted in the night again. As the loud eruption of lutes, drums, and horns played in the thick cold air, the heroes’ of Swashbucklers Cove, Russell, and Siddhartha sat at the bar boasting, their victory, on slaying the cultists atop of the mountains.
As the night settled and the festive music faded slowly from the air the two decided to head back home for the night. “Hey Sid, do you ever think, that we could be doing something with our talents?” said Rusty, breaking the ominous silence that now had lingered upon the streets. “Wha’d’ya do you mean?” Sid slurred, while trying to keep the little balance that the alcohol had generously decided to leave him for the night, as he turned to face his friend.
“Well I was thinking, we are the best at what we do, in this place right?”
“Yeah I suppose, but eventually people will see through our lies, it’s only a matter of time before the abductions start up again. I mean just because we settled our debt with those North Water slavers, doesn’t mean they will stop coming here to find new property.”
“Yeah, but what if we go out, and actually start to become actual heroes of the cove, instead of cons. I mean we are the best fighters, not to mention thieves around. What if we put it to good use, and help people out, and give to the people instead of steal from ‘em? ”
“Rusty, I think this is just that vile watered down mead talking to you. But, I like the sound of it, not only would it make us more money, for keeping them safe, and fed, but also win us a lot more favor amongst ‘em. So… if we decide to screw them over, and lie to them again they couldn’t get that angry.”
While finally making it to the door, and quickly opening it Rusty quickly reprimanded Sid “NO!, I’m sick of screwing over our own kind. They would never do it to us, so why should we do it to them?”
As they started to retire for the night, and hop into their cots Sid had the last words like he always had to “To simply, answer your question my enlightened friend”, with a the tone of sarcasm in his voice “we screwed them over first, and now they think we are heroes, and you have to have your winners, and losers, and we won that’s why.” While giving his stupid grin, the one he always gave when he thought he was right. Fed up with Sid’s, selfish banter for the night Rusty, blew out the candle, and went to sleep.
Morals are the worst
You never really come in first
Treat them like their your brother
Put yourself behind another
Even if you could win
You must put yourself in a bin
To protect them from getting hurt
Just go lie down in the dirt
They say that karma will treat you well
And keep you out of a burning hell
How will that help you now?
When they will never bow
You must think about yourself
Don’t always be willing to give your help
Because misery is bound to follow
Leaving you helpless, cold and hollow
Took about an hour but so worth it!
Edit: Instead of chicken on the bone, I De-boned a chicken and used one chicken breast.
For this paper I will free write whatever comes to my mind. This music is really good I don’t know the title but I’m enjoying it. I forgot how to type for a minute I need to find a piece of myself. There is something missing to me something out in the world I must find. I yearn for completion, and to reach a state of serenity that I see many others around me have obtained. But, time holds me back the Idea of having a job to live, and the Idea of achieving a higher education limits me. Why can’t we get degrees for finding ourselves? How many people actually end up living their dreams? I doubt that it’s more than 1% of earth’s population. I want to be part of that one percent, I want to do what I love, But, unfortunately I don’t even know what I love. I am lost in this world, and I will continue to be until I break these chains of society. When will I do this? I ask myself I don’t know when. Maybe it will be tomorrow, or maybe never. But, one thing I do know is that I am not happy with who I am. It’s not even that I want more it’s just that I want something different. But, I’m held back by the Idea of pleasing my parents, and worrying about what society defines as “a good future”. I’m tired of being held down by the Ideas of others. You might be thinking to yourself “then why don’t you just stop bitching, and complaining, and do what you want?” My answer to that is I don’t know what I want I’m lost and confused and until I find it, I will remain this way.
Prison
You I can’t stand you
Can’t stand how you’re my child
You are pathetic
How I have to do everything for you
Worry about your health because you won’t
Worry about you falling, and hurting yourself
Worry about you because your own mother won’t
Worry about you just because you lost hope
Worry about you because you let your disability get the best of you
I understand it’s hard
But move on from that; don’t let that be your prison
And surely don’t make it mine
It’s been four years, and I’m Tired
Tired of this anger that I can’t control anymore
Tired of this state of constant guilt
Tired of the extra workload only a parent should experience
Tired of having to get up every twenty minutes to help you
Just tired
Nature Exploration
I’ve never seen a more beautiful red. A rare color only found in the body of animals. It is more beautiful than the color rubies glistening in the sunlight, or the bright red painted on freshly bloomed roses. When wounded I cannot help but to look, and stare at the beauty that flows from me. Compelling my eye no matter how deep the wound is or how much pain I am in. Ever since I was young I have worshiped the warm, viscous liquid that sustains my life. So precious the memories I have with my friend, falling off a bike and cutting my knee open, glass in my finger, even popping pimples and watching the buildup splatter on the mirror. Maybe that is why I love it so much, memories of my life are contained by the color of blood, and I conclude that’s what gives blood red its’ beauty in my eyes.
Edit: I’ve never seen a more beautiful red. A rare color only found in the body of animals. It is more beautiful than the color rubies glistening in the sunlight, or the bright red painted on freshly bloomed roses. When wounded I cannot help but to look, and stare at the beauty that flows from me. Compelling my eye no matter how deep the wound is or how much pain I am in. Ever since I was young I have worshiped the warm, viscous liquid that sustains my life. So precious the memories I have with my friend, falling off a bike and cutting my knee open, glass in my finger, even popping pimples and watching the buildup splatter on the mirror. That is why I love it so much, not just because of the beautiful unique color it is, but the warm memories that flow with it.
