Welcome to my edgy ass story
Haven’t written anything in a while, so hopefully I still got it
Critque(even harsh critique) is greatly appreciated
Enjoy!
A name under a contract and his fate was sealed
I watched the meat roasting on the fire, the meat slowly darkening, the smell of blood and smoke drifting through my nostrils, souvenirs from my scuffle with the council. Stuck here in the middle of the forest, roasting some rabbit I found, I began to remember the cursed path I took to end up here.
He used to play rough with the other kids, not putting too much effort into learning much of anything. Wanted to be a warrior when he grew up before he realized that no one wanted someone like him to fight, after all, a wizard would always be better.
The flames flickered and danced, shifting into the many people who’d tried to save me from ending up here. Maybe I should’ve listened to them earlier
His parents had urged him to apply for the academy, but he didn’t have the smarts, and not enough money to make up for the lack. He kept trying of course, but by then he was too far behind.
Blood and pain suddenly surged through my wounds, I’d patched them up, but droplets of blood still snuck through the makeshift barricades. As I dug through his pack for more bandages, a leather book fell out, knocking up a small cloud of dust. My dad’s journal, what he left me instead of money, property, or anything he could use
He’d never learned to read, and lived to regret it. The merchants wouldn’t take him, and even the fishers knew scraps. Without a job or parents to support him, he resorted to the one thing he knew, playing it rough.
The ink on the page danced across the yellowed backdrop, taunting him and the life he’d lived. Perhaps if I’d bothered to put myself into something, I wouldn’t be stuck in this cursed forest, bleeding out from a paper cut.
He’d only meant to intimidate him, make him walk away, but the bastard drew his sword and stood his ground.
The merchant that I’d killed had been wrapped up in crime, not that the Council cared. All they saw was a dead body and a man with a knife.
It was a blur, what happened next, the next thing he knew, there was a corpse, with his dagger in the neck.
The disfigured corpse and his cries for mercy would stay in his mind forever, burning deeper than any scar.
He’d cried at first, begging for an apology, but then the client had the audacity to thank him. Paid extra too.
A branch cracked behind me, and the dagger was out in a flash, the useless book flapping open as it clattered again the dirt
“Who’s there?”
He’d grown numb to it over time, after all, everyone on the list had done something wrong. So what did their stories matter?
The attacker jumped from the tree, a blur of motion, a blue circle forming around his arm before I could even react. My dagger barely made it out of my hands before I heard the cackle of lightning, and even I knew it was too late.
The hunter looked over the corpse, burnt and disfigured by the lightning. It was barely recognizable enough for the payout, but it would have to do. He began to pack the body up, when he noticed a book, grabbed it, and began flipping through the pages out of curiosity. My son, I’m more pro-
The flames cackled and flared, burning the pages of the book within seconds. He’d learned not to care about their stories, after all, all of them had done something bad to end up on the list. It was their fault really. A name under a poster and their fates were sealed.
R.I.P