Ehh, had some free time, didn't know what to do. May continue on this if I feel like it. Not entirely sure where to go to next.
It was a dark and cold night. The wind howled in the streets and the gaslight lanterns were flickering behind the protective glass. A lone boy sat hunched in a narrow and small alley. His knees pulled up to his chin, a dirty, torn cloak wrapped around his body.
He sat there motionless, as the raindrops came down. Slowly at first, but with more and more increasing speed.
Winter was almost there, only a few more days and it would be snowing and not raining. People would be warm and comfortable in their homes, but this boy, he would still be out on the streets. He was a homeless boy.
Nobody paid attention to him, nobody cared. If he lived another day, nobody would cheer. If he died tomorrow, nobody would cry. Nobody would miss him. If he bought some food, nobody would notice, but if he would steal a bread or an apple, the shopkeeper would run after him, furiously waving his arms. He liked that, at least people paid attention to him when that happened, even if it wasn’t the positive kind.
But this night, this night was different. A fat boy and two of his stronger friends had occupied his usual camping spot. Between a few wooden crates, long forgotten by its previous owner, somewhere in a back alley. He had to find a new spot, but there were none. Only dark corners in the alleys the city was made of. They all stank. Like mud, waste and shit. Nobody bothered cleaning it up, nobody had to sleep in it though, except this boy.
However, the boy didn’t know what the night would bring him. The boy didn’t know he is special. Nobody knew, nobody cared. Well, one person know. The King. But the king had forgotten all about the boy. In fact, he didn’t even know the boy still lived. He once knew of the boy’s existence, but at that time he didn’t seem to care.
This night was different. Somebody reminded the King the boy was out there. And, if not trained well, would pose a threat to every human being he came in contact with.
The boy sat in the alley. Hiding away from all other humans. Not knowing if they would offer him shelter or wishing to hurt him. The boy was shy and didn’t want help. He wanted himself to be strong, not be made strong by others.
A group of guards passed by on the streets. Their steel boots clanked loudly on the stone pavement. Their boots splashing in the tools. Their armour glimmering in the light of the lanterns. They appeared to be looking for something. Or someone. The boy paid them no mind, it was common for guards to patrol the streets at night. To keep drunkards of the streets.
It must be the same this time, the boy thought. If only he knew.
The next patrol ran by a few minutes later. The boy thought they passed, as the noise their boots made slowly faded. But they came to an abrupt halt after a few seconds. One pair came walking back. The sound of the boots clanking on the stone pavement grew louder and louder. Sitting hunched, the boy saw a pair of shining steel boots from under his hood, standing right next to him.
Slowly, the boy looked up, from the guard’s legs, to his stomach, to his chest, to his dark and grim face as he stood over the boy. In a harsh tone he said “Come with me, boy.”
The boy, scared and afraid, looked back down, his knees still pulled up to his chin. He was not about to come up and go with the guards.
Lightning struck somewhere in the distance and the sound of the rolling thunder grew ever closer. It was starting to pour now. The guard, being slightly impatient, bend down and grabbed the boy by his elbow, pulling him up. Being only seven years old, the boy only came up to the waist of the guard.
The guard dragged the boy back to the other guards. Nodding at the one that came to pick him up, the marched on, towards the dark castle on the mountain above the city. It cast a dark shadow over the city. A bright flash of lightning struck somewhere behind the castle, making it look even more grim in the stormy night. The boy didn’t want to come, but nobody seemed to care. Nobody. None. No living being cared.
It was a dark and cold night. The wind howled in the streets and the gaslight lanterns were flickering behind the protective glass. A lone boy sat hunched in a narrow and small alley. His knees pulled up to his chin, a dirty, torn cloak wrapped around his body.
He sat there motionless, as the raindrops came down. Slowly at first, but with more and more increasing speed.
Winter was almost there, only a few more days and it would be snowing and not raining. People would be warm and comfortable in their homes, but this boy, he would still be out on the streets. He was a homeless boy.
Nobody paid attention to him, nobody cared. If he lived another day, nobody would cheer. If he died tomorrow, nobody would cry. Nobody would miss him. If he bought some food, nobody would notice, but if he would steal a bread or an apple, the shopkeeper would run after him, furiously waving his arms. He liked that, at least people paid attention to him when that happened, even if it wasn’t the positive kind.
But this night, this night was different. A fat boy and two of his stronger friends had occupied his usual camping spot. Between a few wooden crates, long forgotten by its previous owner, somewhere in a back alley. He had to find a new spot, but there were none. Only dark corners in the alleys the city was made of. They all stank. Like mud, waste and shit. Nobody bothered cleaning it up, nobody had to sleep in it though, except this boy.
However, the boy didn’t know what the night would bring him. The boy didn’t know he is special. Nobody knew, nobody cared. Well, one person know. The King. But the king had forgotten all about the boy. In fact, he didn’t even know the boy still lived. He once knew of the boy’s existence, but at that time he didn’t seem to care.
This night was different. Somebody reminded the King the boy was out there. And, if not trained well, would pose a threat to every human being he came in contact with.
The boy sat in the alley. Hiding away from all other humans. Not knowing if they would offer him shelter or wishing to hurt him. The boy was shy and didn’t want help. He wanted himself to be strong, not be made strong by others.
A group of guards passed by on the streets. Their steel boots clanked loudly on the stone pavement. Their boots splashing in the tools. Their armour glimmering in the light of the lanterns. They appeared to be looking for something. Or someone. The boy paid them no mind, it was common for guards to patrol the streets at night. To keep drunkards of the streets.
It must be the same this time, the boy thought. If only he knew.
The next patrol ran by a few minutes later. The boy thought they passed, as the noise their boots made slowly faded. But they came to an abrupt halt after a few seconds. One pair came walking back. The sound of the boots clanking on the stone pavement grew louder and louder. Sitting hunched, the boy saw a pair of shining steel boots from under his hood, standing right next to him.
Slowly, the boy looked up, from the guard’s legs, to his stomach, to his chest, to his dark and grim face as he stood over the boy. In a harsh tone he said “Come with me, boy.”
The boy, scared and afraid, looked back down, his knees still pulled up to his chin. He was not about to come up and go with the guards.
Lightning struck somewhere in the distance and the sound of the rolling thunder grew ever closer. It was starting to pour now. The guard, being slightly impatient, bend down and grabbed the boy by his elbow, pulling him up. Being only seven years old, the boy only came up to the waist of the guard.
The guard dragged the boy back to the other guards. Nodding at the one that came to pick him up, the marched on, towards the dark castle on the mountain above the city. It cast a dark shadow over the city. A bright flash of lightning struck somewhere behind the castle, making it look even more grim in the stormy night. The boy didn’t want to come, but nobody seemed to care. Nobody. None. No living being cared.