Marcus Krell was a good man, he never stole, he was polite, he gave whatever he could of his meagre possessions to the poor and he prayes, once or twice. As he sat at the helm of his fishing yacht, that could barely be called a yacht as it was falling apart, on his way home from a trade run to the central port of Feya, the last port before the Sanrian border. The moon shimmered on the calm, black waters of the Dark Sea, broken only by the occasional fish leaping from the water.
As he sipped his tea the light abruptly stopped, the shimmers gone, then Marcus swore, something he never did, as he was a good man, his cup slipped and shattered on the rotting deck, and then everything shattered. Just like the cup. No-one would mourn the good man. Those he was good and kind to would forget him. No-one would notice the shattered boards of a fishing yacht or the broken body of a good man. What they did notice however, was what shattered the boat and broke the body of the good man. They noticed the pitch black wall of mountanous stone jutting out of the otherwise calm sea. They noticed the other wrecks, a giant passenger ship without her stern half, a trading ship surrounded by impaled members of her crew, impaled on spears of obsidian-coloured stone as they jumped ship.
No-one noticed him. The good man. Unseen. Forgotten. No-one head his final words, the last utterance of a good man.
This has two variations btw
The original:
"Well...f-fuck"
And the revised version:
"W-why?"
***
That's the first story, enjoy!
YOU ARE READING
Short Stories
Randomrandom little thingies i wrote. they're not the best but i wrote them at like 3am, hence the title. enjoy :)
