So, I told Zed that I write stories sometimes, and he told me to post a story on here. So I am. kind of. This is just an excerpt of a story (that hopefully will be finished) that I've started writing. Basically, it's like a realistic-ish MMO. So yeah. This is just the first page.
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My alias is Swift. My true name is classified. I am a middle-ranked assassin who’s destined to get to the top. I was birthed in a small town; they all said I could never reach the requirements to become what I am today. I’ve killed many to get to where I am, and will kill more to get to where I need to be. I’m not about to back down.
My story begins on my journey to the biggest city in the area, Gardak. Because of the lack of mounts at my home town, I had to walk the entire 420 miles to get there. It was not easy. My feet bled, my ankles cried for mercy, and my knees gave out thousands of times. That was only the beginning, though.
At night, monsters come out in my world. Mind you, they are there during the day. But they keep away from the open. People of many classes hunt those monsters in the day. But at night, the moon intensifies the monsters’ power. Only the people strongest of their class can defend against these warped monsters.
My only problem was lack of shelter. Motels were scarce on the only path from my home town to Gardak, and I’d be lucky to find one in one of the few small towns I had to pass through. Many people don’t take in runaways, so I had to go through most of those towns.
Luck struck me a week into my journey. A bard happened to be visiting one of the towns, and left the same day I passed through. His name was Jackson. According to the stories he had told me (which were amazing due to his vast knowledge in literature), he was very good in his class. Aside from knowing minor healing techniques, he was also good at martial arts. He showed me this when we were jumped suddenly at dusk by a monster…..
“And so the old man said to me, ‘Why, boy, literature is not meant for women!’ And so I replied quite humbly, ‘But you see, kind sir, if more people learn this art then our world will become stronger with intelligence!’” Jackson said, in the middle of one of his many stories. I listened quietly. “The old man then said, after a slight pause, ‘I do believe your right boy, but the council will not approve.’ And that’s why I’m heading to Gardak.”
“So you can convince the council that women should be able to read and write as well?” I asked.
“Exactly. It won’t be easy, though. Gardak is just the smallest out of the ten major cities. If I convince the nine cities of this, then the largest, Port Yardson, might be more willing to listen to my words.”
“I see. That’s quite a goal though, Sir. What made you want to reach for it?”
“My daughter,” he said, and then paused for a moment. “One day she looked at me, eyes bright with the joy of youth, and said ‘I want to be just like you some day, Daddy.’ Then she showed me a piece of paper. On it, she had somehow managed to write a small poem:
‘My Daddy’s the best poet,
My Daddy’s the greatest.
I want to be a poet,
Just like my Daddy.’
“It almost made me cry. I don’t know how she learned how to spell or write, but knowing she could sent shivers down my spine. I’ve been to many persecutions of women who’ve learned how to read and write, and I don’t want to go to my daughter’s some day. That’s why I have to do this.”
I was about to reply, until I heard a shuffling in the leaves in the woods by the path we were walking on.
~
Comments?
Oh, by the way, I do indent my paragraphs properly, but the layout of the site doesn't agree with indentation. Sorry><
