Print

A Sword And His Folly - Chapter 1

Living in a small village was a young adult who grew up knowing that his life would be short.
Living in a small village was a young adult who grew up knowing that his life would be short. He wouldn’t live his parents with the life he chose to live. The sword that has now forced its way into the belly of a man who had on a suit of armor, and was laying in his own blood. This was his life. The life of killing the evil of this world.

This small village was surrounded by tall trees. Wrapped around the village in a circle. Like the trees were deliberately put there for the village's purpose. As the sun came down on the guy who had the bloody sword, a bird flew up into the sky landing on one of the tree branches of one of the trees. He looked up at the bird as it landed on the branch. He walked steadily down a path towards a village shop. He wanted to get his sword washed before he had to find his next kill. He did what he could to wipe the blood off the sword before he walked to the shop. When he walked into the shop with his sword, the blacksmith was standing there with his hammer, hammering away at the future piece that would be a sword. He stopped and looked at who entered. The man walked up to the blacksmith. Pulling his sword from the sheath he handed the sword to the blacksmith. The blacksmith examined it and then nodded at the guy. He took the sword and put it through a rinse first. Scrubbing all the dirt and filth off it. He then doused it in some liquid that would keep the sword healthy for many years to come. Afterwards, he put the sword into some hot water to rinse the liquid off. Grabbing a towel, he dried the blade off. He handed the sword back to the guy. The guy put some money on the counter and walked out of the shop. He walked down the path towards his home.

Today was a good day and he had to eat something. As he walked down the path towards his home, he wondered to himself why his life had to be like this. Where did the old days go? He thought. Maybe someday he will be able to be at peace and forget about the killings. The memories gone, and he would live a new life. One that was free of suffering. Right now, he had no such life. Walking passed a shed, he looked at the field that was there. They were growing some tomatoes, potatoes, and some corn. He would have to get some of that from the owners soon. He went up to a door and opened it. There inside was a cot, a table, and chair, a counter-top for him to prep food. There was also a torch for light.

Today was bright and sunny, so he opened the window to let in that light now. Going into a compartment, he grabbed some potatoes and a pot. He filled up the pot and washed his potatoes throwing them into the water. He set the pot on the stove and brought the pot to boil. Waiting on his potatoes, he opened a little closet that had some other weapons in it. This was a life of killing, a life that made you suffer. This life was going to be cut short soon enough. He always thought these things. Taking his sword and putting it inside the closet he shut the door. He sat down and waited. He closed his eyes now. He thought of his family. His wife and child. How they would have hated the life he was living. Had they been alive right now to see him. Had they not got killed by a murderer. They would be enjoying his company, had on that day, he was there with them before that man with the hat put a blade to the throats of his wife and child.

A tear escaped his eyes. Rolling down his cheek. He wiped the tear aside. He got up to check on the potatoes. The pot was now boiling. He turned the pot off and poured the water out of the pot. He let the potatoes cool before taking the skin off them. He went back and sat down.

A knock came to the door and a slip of paper went under his door. He got up and took the paper. There on the paper was a name. A name he has heard before. A name that haunted his dreams every night. A name that he would like to forget. On the paper was the name of the next kill. This guy was the guy who murdered his wife and child. Had he known where the guy was long ago, he would have killed the man right then and there. The name of the murderer was Cole. Cole Bernard. Cole Bernard lived in the same village as he did. Cole Bernard was a thief, a killer for hire, and a family man according to this paper. Well he would eat before going after him. His killer wouldn’t go anywhere. He went to the kitchen and started peeling the skin of the two potatoes. He grabbed a plate. Placing the potatoes on the plate he grabbed a fork. He went and sat down on his chair to eat. Cole Bernard was one of those guys you wanted to slap across the face as soon as you met him. Not because he killed his family, but because he was just a douche bag.
What should I name the main character?
Doyle.
John.
Hartfield.
Bronson.
Jack.
By
Published: 7/4/2019
Bouquets and Brickbats