Sh'Ky Naes
Summer 90, 514
Sh'Ky stepped out of the doorway to his house, and locked the door behind him. A chill wind, the first of many to come, it would seem, blew down his ramshackle street, twirling around in the dust like some strange dance. Pulling his jacket tightly around him, he began a familiar path, down the winding streets, out of the city. Several of the residents on the street looked up at him, and realized what he was going to do, and what day it was.
When he reached the outskirts of the city, he went to a tall hill, with a rather smooth incline. Sitting down on his knees, he placed his hands upon his thighs, and looking to the sky, began to speak. "I don't know if you can even hear me, Rastia, but I kept your promise." He laughed and wiped a tear from his eye. "Damn woman, always forcing me to do this or that. Well, Ras, this is the one thing you didn't tell me to do. You asked me not to remember, to just move on. Now how am I suppose' to do that shyke? I suppose I'm rambling on and on, but, well, I just wanted to tell you that I'm still alive." Smiling sarcastically, he continued, "Although you'd probably know if I was dead. Anyway, I hope the gods are treating you right. You little petching minx, you deserved better than this life. And now that you're in the everafter, it'd damn well better be better. Goodbye, Rastia. See you next year." Sitting there for a few minutes, he stared at the setting sun, watching it peek at him over the orange hills.
Standing up, he brushed the grass and dirt off of the seat of his pants, and stretching, he glanced once more at the setting sun. Rastia always liked sunset. Moving toward the city of filth, he began the cycle of thievery again.
Sh'Ky stepped out of the doorway to his house, and locked the door behind him. A chill wind, the first of many to come, it would seem, blew down his ramshackle street, twirling around in the dust like some strange dance. Pulling his jacket tightly around him, he began a familiar path, down the winding streets, out of the city. Several of the residents on the street looked up at him, and realized what he was going to do, and what day it was.
When he reached the outskirts of the city, he went to a tall hill, with a rather smooth incline. Sitting down on his knees, he placed his hands upon his thighs, and looking to the sky, began to speak. "I don't know if you can even hear me, Rastia, but I kept your promise." He laughed and wiped a tear from his eye. "Damn woman, always forcing me to do this or that. Well, Ras, this is the one thing you didn't tell me to do. You asked me not to remember, to just move on. Now how am I suppose' to do that shyke? I suppose I'm rambling on and on, but, well, I just wanted to tell you that I'm still alive." Smiling sarcastically, he continued, "Although you'd probably know if I was dead. Anyway, I hope the gods are treating you right. You little petching minx, you deserved better than this life. And now that you're in the everafter, it'd damn well better be better. Goodbye, Rastia. See you next year." Sitting there for a few minutes, he stared at the setting sun, watching it peek at him over the orange hills.
Standing up, he brushed the grass and dirt off of the seat of his pants, and stretching, he glanced once more at the setting sun. Rastia always liked sunset. Moving toward the city of filth, he began the cycle of thievery again.
Keep it up.
