posted on Apr, 6 2004 @ 11:45 AM
here's part of a story i did for my magnum opus in writers craft, if anyone likes it i'll release more as it goes along, sound good? here i go =
The air is alive with a rich-foreign culture that one could taste if only a moment was taken to breathe. Even then, it is all too obvious that the
only richness these people are able to grasp is whatever hope they have left in their hearts. For as he strolls down the cobblestone path, the
surrounding buildings, and alleyways all seem to intertwine within the bazaar. Clothing and embroideries hang from above, linking one neighbours trust
with the other. Street merchants haggle pedestrians, while a common thief lurks in the shadows, one hand short of a loaf of bread. Not far ahead, the
crowd expands, filling gaps that expose the worn earth, a sea of bodies, worn like the ground. Yet despite their opacity, a solemn figure stands
prominently at its centre, his greatest feature being the scar on his face. The people around him keep their distance, whether out of fear or
curiosity, he was not sure, perhaps a bit of both. The figure stands on a makeshift construct of chicken crates, the birds seeming less confused than
the people around him.
He pushes his way through, minding his pockets, while keeping an eye out for the person that is supposed to meet him here, a most inconvenient place
when looking for someone in particular. Regardless, he cannot help but think of why he is here.
Feeling a tug on his coat, he turns to see a young boy. Poorly dressed, and by the looks of it, poorly fed too. The boy repeats the sentence, “Come
with me, I was told to take you to him”, continuing to tug, this time pointing past the crowd, toward some rather decrepit buildings. Although there
is no way of knowing whether this was the person he is suppose to meet, a young boy, he figures that the odds of a child wanting to take a stranger
anywhere for any other reasons are unlikely. Agreeing, the young boy leads him through several alleyways, though he could swear that they are going in
circles, but what did he know? After a short time, they approach a doorway with a sign above it that read something along the lines of it being an
inn, or so that’s how he interprets it, his familiarity of their language is weak but good enough to get him by with little hassle. Upon entering, an
intense musk strangles his nose, something that those inside are no doubt use to. The young boy tugs his coat, and points to a large fellow of a man,
feasting on three plates at the same time. Not to mention the pitcher of ale that most likely was comparable to the taste of donkey piss. His employer
did not specify much on whom he was to meet, but it seemed certain that this young boy had led him to that person. A final tug rings his coat and he
sees the child, hand out, with a lonesome grin on his face, gesturing for a tip. Reaching into his pocket, he scrounges up whatever change lay there,
hands it to the young boy, rubs his hair, and sends him off. By this time, the large fellow lets his eyes off a large piece of meat caught in his
mouth, and gives him a curious, though daring stare. Walking towards the large fellow, he extends his hand and introduces himself.
[to be continued] haha, always wanted to do that, what'd yas think?