Alan
Fledgling Freddie
- Joined
- Aug 3, 2004
- Messages
- 3,972
I can’t remember; the curse is still too strong. Images of the past bombard my sleep but they are confused and disjointed I pray in time that truth and justice will prevail and one day I can find the answers and the means to escape this place for good.
The young Briton paused scrubbing the floor and looked up from his knelt position to the barricaded window, it was fast approaching dusk and the time of Myra’s return, if she came back to an empty plate again he would surely be in for another beating. Hastily he returned the cleaning equipment to its rightful place in the rickety cupboard before surveying the sparsely populated house for something edible to serve to his captor.
Only a few moments passed before the sound of a key grinding against the rusty metal in the door. An elderly wrinkled figure wrapped in a tattered black cloak entered the house., her piercing green eyes focused on the table.
“Boy… where’s my food.” She croaked
The youngster hands shook as he place the bowl on the table, being careful not to spill its contents.
“H..H…Here, Lady M..Myra” he stuttered before cowering back to the corner
The old woman took a sip from the bowl and glanced back at the boy. His clothes were cast offs, frayed and torn from constant use barely enough to provide warmth in the cold and only fit to fuel the fire.
For what felt like hours Myra guzzled at the soup, as she sipped from her spoon the whistling sound of air being drawn through her missing teeth rang through boys ears each one more infuriating than the previous, but he withheld his irritations, the bruises and searing pain were a reminder never to speak unless spoken to again.
“Disgusting, absolutely disgusting” Myra said as she laid the spoon to rest in the empty bowl and stood up sharply, knocking her chair over in the process. “When I said this place should be spotless, I meant SPOTLESS” she yelled, her hand started to gestate in a rhythmic fashion, faint sparks built up around her fingers before illuminating into a white fury of light, with a sharp thrust she pointed towards the corner of the room and the young boy. He could only watch as the ball of light rushed towards him, the pain was phenomenal as if every muscle was being twisted and pulled until torn from its ligament his frail body collapsed to the floor in a torrent of pain. Myra grunted with satisfaction, turned her back on the scene of destruction and headed towards the door ensuring the lock was secured upon her exit.
Eventually the pain started to subside, even someone as cruel as Myra would not leave their servant unable to fulfil their duties for an extended period of time. Gathering his strength the youngster eased his way towards the rickety cupboard, moving it sideways to reveal the accomplishment of two weeks covert work, three small but loose panels in the side of the house.I’ve been considering this day for a long time, there are still so many questions unanswered. Myra will return and my absence must not be noticed, but during the limited time I can be free I seek training in the ways of the church. One day she will answer to me for this life of torment.
The young Briton paused scrubbing the floor and looked up from his knelt position to the barricaded window, it was fast approaching dusk and the time of Myra’s return, if she came back to an empty plate again he would surely be in for another beating. Hastily he returned the cleaning equipment to its rightful place in the rickety cupboard before surveying the sparsely populated house for something edible to serve to his captor.
Only a few moments passed before the sound of a key grinding against the rusty metal in the door. An elderly wrinkled figure wrapped in a tattered black cloak entered the house., her piercing green eyes focused on the table.
“Boy… where’s my food.” She croaked
The youngster hands shook as he place the bowl on the table, being careful not to spill its contents.
“H..H…Here, Lady M..Myra” he stuttered before cowering back to the corner
The old woman took a sip from the bowl and glanced back at the boy. His clothes were cast offs, frayed and torn from constant use barely enough to provide warmth in the cold and only fit to fuel the fire.
For what felt like hours Myra guzzled at the soup, as she sipped from her spoon the whistling sound of air being drawn through her missing teeth rang through boys ears each one more infuriating than the previous, but he withheld his irritations, the bruises and searing pain were a reminder never to speak unless spoken to again.
“Disgusting, absolutely disgusting” Myra said as she laid the spoon to rest in the empty bowl and stood up sharply, knocking her chair over in the process. “When I said this place should be spotless, I meant SPOTLESS” she yelled, her hand started to gestate in a rhythmic fashion, faint sparks built up around her fingers before illuminating into a white fury of light, with a sharp thrust she pointed towards the corner of the room and the young boy. He could only watch as the ball of light rushed towards him, the pain was phenomenal as if every muscle was being twisted and pulled until torn from its ligament his frail body collapsed to the floor in a torrent of pain. Myra grunted with satisfaction, turned her back on the scene of destruction and headed towards the door ensuring the lock was secured upon her exit.
Eventually the pain started to subside, even someone as cruel as Myra would not leave their servant unable to fulfil their duties for an extended period of time. Gathering his strength the youngster eased his way towards the rickety cupboard, moving it sideways to reveal the accomplishment of two weeks covert work, three small but loose panels in the side of the house.
