bitter water // dreamnotfound

three

being out at night was never a good thing.

Seeing as there were no light sources, the streets of the town were completely dark at night. Even when your eyes adjusted to the lack of light, it was still hard to make objects out. Because of that, crime rates were significantly higher at night. Pickpockets and thieves aplenty.

Even though his town had a relatively low crime rate, it never hurt to be weary.

It was a dreadful Thursday. George had to stay extra hours at the blacksmith for a special request from a renowned swordsman from the neighboring kingdom. He really only did it for the large tip.

It was now 10 pm, pitch black outside, and George's hands ached horribly from working with metal for so long. He carefully stepped out of the shop after locking the wooden door and started his walk down the cobblestone pathways. He kept his gaze locked at his feet so he could avoid tripping over the uneven ground.

It was also considerably chilly outside and George wasn't in anything warm. He shivered a little, rubbing his hands against his arms to try and warm himself up.

Before he could grasp what was happening, he heard the patter of footsteps behind him right before he was viscously thrown to the freezing stone ground with a painful thud. He landed on his elbows, the rocks scratching at his skin.

"Hey pretty boy, what kinda money you got?"

He could make out the slight figure of a person in the dark as he looked around frantically for a night guardsman. George had to stay quiet or else he could quite literally be killed by the aggressor. He had learned that lesson already.

Instead of letting out a cry for help or fighting back, George let himself be kicked and pushed around. It was better to be assaulted but alive rather than assaulted and dead because you tried to fight back. George was scrawny and he knew that, there was no way he'd be able to fend for himself.

He told himself that he should've known better. He was a small nineteen year old boy walking alone at night after just earning his days pay. And now that pay was gone. Stolen by a lowlife thief who couldn't bother to suck it up and get a job.

The pain didn't last long, he left after he took George's coins. He sat on the stone road for a few minutes in cold silence after the thief left, deciding between crying out of frustration or brushing himself off and going home.

He decided on the second option.

"Well, there goes four days worth of food. Good going, George."