You’ve just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As you look around, your gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. You duck and step into a tattered tent, illuminated by a series of candles suspended in the air. At the back of the tent, an old hag raises her head, “What brings you to this dingy town? she begins, then pauses to study your face—”Ah, it’s you. I’ve been expecting you. Sit,” she gestures at a cushion, “Tell me your story.”
Isaak sits down on the cushion. "Thank you for the seat. I actually came here to make a living if you can believe it.' Isaak chuckled. "You see I lived on a small plot of land with my family, my dad mother and 2 brothers. We owned a farm and we were doing okay for being in the North, but..." Issak pauses as he takes a sigh. "It was a snowy day when my father died. He was just coming from the town with some supplies when he was mugged and left for dead. He managed to make it home, but it was too late. He died in my mother's arms." Issak stops to let himself calm down, wiping the tears from his eyes. "Then it just went downhill. My mother got sick and passed only 3 months after my father, and the land was given to my oldest brother. He was a drunken idiot, but he tried his best. Shame his debts caught up with him, and he managed to lose the house cause of it. So now I had to venture off from home with nothing but the clothes on my back, trying to find a new place to call home." Issak smiles softly, hoping the old lady enjoyed his tale.
Recommended Comments