I woke in the morning knowing I had to go outside. Fear... I thought in my drowsy, sleeping head. I raised out of my bed and pulled the hut's curtains aside, so I could peak outside. Nothing there. Good... I relieved myself in my head. I got out of bed and went outside to the pond, right of my tent's exit.
I sat there, washing my head in the water. I reached to the left and grabbed my bucket, filled it, and went inside. The water beginning to boil, I could still here my family's last cry. And I couldn't do anything, but sit there. Sword to the stomach froze me. I couldn't move from all the pain.Slowly, my family drifted away. Thinking this began me to grieve.
I stood and turned to the pile of logs. I quickly began to rub to sticks together, hoping it would cause enough friction to catch fire.
By five minutes the sticks heated enough to cause a flame. I quickly threw the fire-caught sticks onto the logs. I pulled dry grass from the side, and through it on the fire. Causing it to flame more.
I reached to my water-filled bucket and placed it across the fire. Boiling it to kill the fish bacteria.
Memories, sweet sweet memories... I heard a small, demonic voice chuckle in my head. Nodding, just ignoring that I even heard the horrid voice.
Sadness there, I was alone...forever.
YOU ARE READING
The Wielder
FantasyFelix Rutland, a young man seeking revenge for the kidnapping and killing of his wife and daughter by Barter Rid. Poverty stricken, Felix has few friends and attributes. His only friend...the Wielder's Sword.
