01-30-2018, 08:38 PM
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<td><center><img src=http://i34.tinypic.com/141t5ja.jpg></center><font color=#000000 face=times size=2>
The night is alive - bright with the light of a full moon. Dilapidated rooftops gleam in the blue of the moonlight, revealing sharp, splintered teeth against gaping holes and missing shingles where once there was sound shelter. The buildings are crammed closely together, dark, tight alleyways running like veins between them. In these dark crevices, vermin (human and animal alike) pilfer through near empty dumpsters, fighting over the tastiest morsels of scrap. Most of the garbage has been sifted through numerous times already, but that doesn’t stop the incessant digging.
<P> A figure watches from above - a man. His hair is greasy, slicked back away from his thin face. His scruffy facial hair is a mixture of deep black and gray - a testament of his mature age. He watches the creatures below with disdain drawn across his face. Many of the buildings here have long been abandoned. Those that are lucky enough to have somewhat secure living spaces know better than to leave their homes at night. Everyone is hungry here, and none more so than those living in the darkened, filthy alleys.
<P>Shifting light gleaming against the remains of a broken window attract the man’s attention. A television. Most here cannot afford electricity. He raises a dark eyebrow in curiosity before deciding to investigate.
<P>With practiced ease, Faulkor scales the rooftops towards the source of the light, but his aching hips remind him of a recent misjudgement he had made just days before in an effort to escape arrest by leaping a gap too wide. Those below are too preoccupied to notice the shadow of the man as he passes overhead, leaping over the narrow alleys with only a moment’s thought of past events. Luckily, he had escaped jail that night with only the cost of some missing skin on the points of his hips.
<P> When he reaches the window, he slows, careful to keep his shadow from blocking the moonlight as he peers inside, his gaze following a makeshift extension cord that runs from outside to an old television. The screen is displaying mosty fuzz, with the occasional shape peeking from the gray and white noise. There’s an antenna up top, wrapped in dirty aluminum, bits of food folded into the crumpled metal. Across from the television is a rather dirty sofa with a blank faced woman sitting amidst the split cushions, covered in a ratty blanket. He watches her intently for a moment, noticing that she hasn’t blinked the whole time he has been staring at her.
<P> He catches movement out of the corner of his eye from a gloomy corner of the room. He looks directly into the corner to see a small child staring directly at him, and he nearly loses his balance on the thin ledge he is standing on outside the window.
<P> “Please don’t go.” the child says - a small girl clutching a lucky rabbit’s foot. He has never understood what made a dead rabbit lucky. Obviously the poor critter was either dead or missing a limb. How lucky could the bastard be? The girl emerges from a nest of dirty blankets in with a half smile. “I have food, if you need.” she says, motioning to a table upon which laid an assortment of hard bread and too ripe fruit.
<P>The man lingers, realizing his hunger. He looks to the woman on the sofa. She still hasn’t moved. The girl follows his gaze.
<P>“Don’t worry. Mom doesn’t care about anything anymore.” She says, looking to the floor. Faulkor remains silent. The window isn’t quite large enough for him to fit through without breaking more of the glass, so he looms outside, wanting to leave, but feeling guilty because he has been asked to stay. The girl moves towards the table and grabs a loaf of uncut bread. She breaks a piece away, and the crust crunches delightfully. Gingerly, she approaches the window and the stranger without and hands him a portion.
<P> Grunting in thanks he tears a small piece away and raises it to his lips. It smells as if it is on the verge of molder, but everything does in this place, and he has eaten much worse. He savors each bite as if he were partaking of an expensive steak. It isn’t much, but the bread takes the edge off of his hunger. He’s never been much with words, but the girl sees him eyeing her mother again.
<P> “My older brother died.” she says, and Faulkor looks at her a bit wide eyed, but not because of the death of her brother. The girl’s sad circumstances were shared with many in this city. But, he is somewhat taken aback that she should be telling him this. “Mom has been…” the girl pauses. “Well, she has been gone ever since.” He can feel her breath on his arm as she speaks, and the sensation is strange to him. How long had it been since his children had been gone? Taken by illness and hunger. He couldn’t help his children, but this young girl had managed to survive, even with a comatose mother. His eyebrows furrow darkly.
<P> “I hate this place, but I don’t know where else to go.” the girls says. Faulkor doesn’t have the heart to tell her that the whole city has gone to hell. He can’t tell her that he doesn’t believe that there is any place better than the squalor in which they live in now. But, he recognizes the feeling - the need to escape. Honestly, his children’s deaths had been a relief - a cutting of shackles. He contemplates the benefits and setbacks of adding another burden to his care.
<P> “Can you fend for yourself?” he asks her, his voice raspy and unpracticed. The girl looks about the room, noting the food on the table, the makeshift cord she had used to steal electricity, and then she looks to her mother. For a moment she settles there, watching the way the tv light illuminates the gray of her hair.
<P> “Yes.” she says, slowly pulling her gaze away from her mother and towards the strange man in the window. Faulkor reaches into the front pocket of his tattered jeans and pulls out a small box with a few matches left inside.
<P> “Then burn the past.” he advises, passing her the matches before dropping from the ledge and out of sight.
<P> He has not made if far when the smell of smoke drifts through the stench of the city and finds him, yet again, upon the ledge of a roof. From the street below a filthy young girl clutching a lucky rabbit's foot looks up at him.
<P> “Hello.” he says, with a smile, and he motions for her to join him upon the moonlit rooftops.
<center><b>F A U L K O R</b></center>
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1125 words
items/ elements:
good luck charm, older brother, and box of matches
<tr>
<td><center><img src=http://i34.tinypic.com/141t5ja.jpg></center><font color=#000000 face=times size=2>
The night is alive - bright with the light of a full moon. Dilapidated rooftops gleam in the blue of the moonlight, revealing sharp, splintered teeth against gaping holes and missing shingles where once there was sound shelter. The buildings are crammed closely together, dark, tight alleyways running like veins between them. In these dark crevices, vermin (human and animal alike) pilfer through near empty dumpsters, fighting over the tastiest morsels of scrap. Most of the garbage has been sifted through numerous times already, but that doesn’t stop the incessant digging.
<P> A figure watches from above - a man. His hair is greasy, slicked back away from his thin face. His scruffy facial hair is a mixture of deep black and gray - a testament of his mature age. He watches the creatures below with disdain drawn across his face. Many of the buildings here have long been abandoned. Those that are lucky enough to have somewhat secure living spaces know better than to leave their homes at night. Everyone is hungry here, and none more so than those living in the darkened, filthy alleys.
<P>Shifting light gleaming against the remains of a broken window attract the man’s attention. A television. Most here cannot afford electricity. He raises a dark eyebrow in curiosity before deciding to investigate.
<P>With practiced ease, Faulkor scales the rooftops towards the source of the light, but his aching hips remind him of a recent misjudgement he had made just days before in an effort to escape arrest by leaping a gap too wide. Those below are too preoccupied to notice the shadow of the man as he passes overhead, leaping over the narrow alleys with only a moment’s thought of past events. Luckily, he had escaped jail that night with only the cost of some missing skin on the points of his hips.
<P> When he reaches the window, he slows, careful to keep his shadow from blocking the moonlight as he peers inside, his gaze following a makeshift extension cord that runs from outside to an old television. The screen is displaying mosty fuzz, with the occasional shape peeking from the gray and white noise. There’s an antenna up top, wrapped in dirty aluminum, bits of food folded into the crumpled metal. Across from the television is a rather dirty sofa with a blank faced woman sitting amidst the split cushions, covered in a ratty blanket. He watches her intently for a moment, noticing that she hasn’t blinked the whole time he has been staring at her.
<P> He catches movement out of the corner of his eye from a gloomy corner of the room. He looks directly into the corner to see a small child staring directly at him, and he nearly loses his balance on the thin ledge he is standing on outside the window.
<P> “Please don’t go.” the child says - a small girl clutching a lucky rabbit’s foot. He has never understood what made a dead rabbit lucky. Obviously the poor critter was either dead or missing a limb. How lucky could the bastard be? The girl emerges from a nest of dirty blankets in with a half smile. “I have food, if you need.” she says, motioning to a table upon which laid an assortment of hard bread and too ripe fruit.
<P>The man lingers, realizing his hunger. He looks to the woman on the sofa. She still hasn’t moved. The girl follows his gaze.
<P>“Don’t worry. Mom doesn’t care about anything anymore.” She says, looking to the floor. Faulkor remains silent. The window isn’t quite large enough for him to fit through without breaking more of the glass, so he looms outside, wanting to leave, but feeling guilty because he has been asked to stay. The girl moves towards the table and grabs a loaf of uncut bread. She breaks a piece away, and the crust crunches delightfully. Gingerly, she approaches the window and the stranger without and hands him a portion.
<P> Grunting in thanks he tears a small piece away and raises it to his lips. It smells as if it is on the verge of molder, but everything does in this place, and he has eaten much worse. He savors each bite as if he were partaking of an expensive steak. It isn’t much, but the bread takes the edge off of his hunger. He’s never been much with words, but the girl sees him eyeing her mother again.
<P> “My older brother died.” she says, and Faulkor looks at her a bit wide eyed, but not because of the death of her brother. The girl’s sad circumstances were shared with many in this city. But, he is somewhat taken aback that she should be telling him this. “Mom has been…” the girl pauses. “Well, she has been gone ever since.” He can feel her breath on his arm as she speaks, and the sensation is strange to him. How long had it been since his children had been gone? Taken by illness and hunger. He couldn’t help his children, but this young girl had managed to survive, even with a comatose mother. His eyebrows furrow darkly.
<P> “I hate this place, but I don’t know where else to go.” the girls says. Faulkor doesn’t have the heart to tell her that the whole city has gone to hell. He can’t tell her that he doesn’t believe that there is any place better than the squalor in which they live in now. But, he recognizes the feeling - the need to escape. Honestly, his children’s deaths had been a relief - a cutting of shackles. He contemplates the benefits and setbacks of adding another burden to his care.
<P> “Can you fend for yourself?” he asks her, his voice raspy and unpracticed. The girl looks about the room, noting the food on the table, the makeshift cord she had used to steal electricity, and then she looks to her mother. For a moment she settles there, watching the way the tv light illuminates the gray of her hair.
<P> “Yes.” she says, slowly pulling her gaze away from her mother and towards the strange man in the window. Faulkor reaches into the front pocket of his tattered jeans and pulls out a small box with a few matches left inside.
<P> “Then burn the past.” he advises, passing her the matches before dropping from the ledge and out of sight.
<P> He has not made if far when the smell of smoke drifts through the stench of the city and finds him, yet again, upon the ledge of a roof. From the street below a filthy young girl clutching a lucky rabbit's foot looks up at him.
<P> “Hello.” he says, with a smile, and he motions for her to join him upon the moonlit rooftops.
<center><b>F A U L K O R</b></center>
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1125 words
items/ elements:
good luck charm, older brother, and box of matches