Im so angry, the conection reset and everything else got erased >.>

Anyways, hi!

Nobody here knows me, because it probably takes me months to get off my lazy butt and actually make a blog…

This is a series i started a few months back,t hen totally forgot about. Then today, I was looknig through my old blogs, and I found this. Having nothing better to do, I wrote the second part XD

Enjoy!

The boy awoke at the clammering noises of carts, playing children, and the various noises of a market all interweaved into one. He brushed his long hair aside, stretched his arms and yawned. He squirmed back into the covers, then suddenly decided to come out. The bright Perion sun momentarily blinded him as he stepped out onto the un-covered section of the roof.

They must’ve started without me . He thought.

Smiling to himself, he lightly jumped onto the ground, a small cloud of dust arised around him. Nobody noticed him, among the sea of merchants and old wives haggling with each other. He casually strolled down the crowded streets, seemingly looking for nothing.

Time for breakfast

He walked up to the breakfast stall, and shoved a particularly heavy woman into the booth. A few screams aroused, and the owner started yelling in a deep accent, while the lady tried to explain what happened. There was smooshed cake and fruit on the ground. A baby was wailing in its mother’s arms. And nobody noticed two steaming rolls of bread, and a bottle of Orange Juice gone missing, or the teenager that had disappeared after the incident.

After he had washed down the fresh bread with cold squeezed OJ just the way he liked it, no pulp, he threw the bottle into a nearby alleyway, shoved his hands in his pockets, and continued on. Seeing as there was nothing to steal, or pickpocket, he turned the corner onto Elefunt Street, where only exotic and expensive items had the right to a store.

Armour, scrolls, weapons all passed by, and he knew he would never own any of these things, but he was still wistful. Wistful for another life, where maybe he didnt have to live on the rooftop of an desolate building with other orphans, stealing everyday just to get by. Wistful that he could be one of those rich merchants son’s, always dressed in nice clothes, having servants to wait on them.

Sighing, he moved on, his eyes roving everywhere, until he met a stall different from others. It had no bright colors advertising, or anything fancy, just an old man dozing on his chair.

Maybe they had a mix up with the stall, this should be on out there with the regular bazaar.

Inquesting further, he closed in on the stall, glancing at the items on display. Nothing special like he thought, except for two or three body armours. Then, he blinked a few times, then he blinked again, to make sure his eyes werent play tricks on him. It was a sword, a regular one, in a regular scabbard, with some leather for the strap. But strangely, it called out to him. He was drawn towards it, it shone with a faint light. He looked around to see if anyone was staring at him, and stole another look at the sword. It was still sitting there, calling out to him. He checked with the sleeping dotard, then casually snatched up the sword, slinging it onto his back, and strode away.

He checked behind him every often, to see if anyone was staring at the sword, to see if it called out to them, attracted them, but no, it was just a regular broadside to them. Then, he swore he saw a policeman staring at him, eyes boring into him. He quickly turned around, and saw another cop, almost glaring at him. They couldnt be after him, could they? His heart beat faster in collaboration with the movement of his feet. They were after him for sure now, they moved after him. Cold sweat ran down his face, his hands were clammy, and he wiped them on his slightly dirty shirt. He was running now, and the people chasing him were running after him.

I only stole a sword, not even a good one, stop chasing me dammit! He desperately thought to himself.

He thought to lose them in the maze of alleys, which he knew like the back of his hand. He skidded into a long and wide alley, and desperately searched for the ladder that should have been there. Should have been. Angry and scared, he whirled just as the policemen came, ready to do whatever they were going to do to him, possibly kill him.

They smirked, and drew their swords and nightsticks, advancing on him.

He grabbed his sword, felt the worn leather grip, and fell into complete Ataraxy. He drew it, and it noiselessly came out. A power unknown before swelled into him, as he silently charged them, a roar building up in his lungs, and a surge of adrenaline flowing through his veins.

Pt. 2

They hesitated, glancing at each other. Finally, they ran at him, raising their weapons. The momentum carried the boy forward, as he jumped and cut clean through. He felt the blade break the soft flesh, then cut through the bones like butter in an upward stroke. The blood flashed momentarily, then he brought it down in a down, biting down on the second man’s shoulder blade.

Three left

The men formed a crooked circle around him, raising their weapons.

He didnt even bat an eye. The sword surged forward, almost with a will of its own,

A body toppled down to the ground, breathing no more. The third man tried to sneak behind him. He just flipped the sword, and the attacker ran into it. Then the boy pulled out the sword, and threw it at the last person. As soon as the sword left his hands, he felt a pain, a yearning to get it. Gasping, he pulled it out from the now dead man’s forehead. Relief flooded back into him as he slid the sword into its hilt, not bothering to clean it.

“Ahh” He gasped,

“What did I do?” He wondered aloud as he saw the dead bodies strewn around him.

He looked at the sword innocently hanging from his pants, and knew it was magical. Somehow.

He knew more would come, so he quickly ran out into the street, trying to look casual. He was walking back to his home, when someone shouted.

“Ey, You!”

He turned and looked at a man he vaguely remembered. He was fat, with a long, brown beard hanging from his double chin.

“Yous’ the boy that stole my fruit the other day!”

Oh yeah, that guy.

He turned and ran, as the man followed, waving his arms.

He slipped into the crowd, and quickly lost the stall owner. He was walking home when he tripped over someone’s clumsy foot, and sprawled to the ground. Suddenly he felt rough hands grabbing at him, taking his sword. Rage took hold of him, and he blindly slashed out, and was satisfied when he heard his punches connect. He got up, and saw three older boys, maybe five, six years older than him gasping for breath on the ground.

”How did I do that?”

He nervously looked around, but curiously enough, nobody paid any attention to what had just happened.

Shrugging, he shouldered his sword and walked on, a bit faster this time.

He was just about to slip to the back of his house and climb the hidden ladder, but right then a stampede of people rushed into his street, and at the head of that mob, was Johnny. He was running, tears streaming out of his eyes, and his pale fingers clutched at piece of parchment.

The crowd was chasing him, yelling and screaming.

Johnny slipped and crashed to the ground, and the crowd was on him in a second, beating him senseless.

He had to help. He silently whipped out his sword, a fire burning in his eyes. He ran at the first person he saw chasing Johnny, and slashed open his back. Another, he stabbed through the side, pulled out the sword, and immediately turned and slashed the head of. People were screaming, now that they saw what was happening, some turned and ran, yelling about. Still, he killed more. Slash, downward stab, all these things came passively to him.

Very soon, the dead were strewn all around him. He cleaned the blood on his sword by plunging it into the ground, then looked for Johnny. He coldly overturned lifeless bodies, searching. Finally, in the middle of this carnage, he found the little boy. He was curled in a fetal position, the parchment was gone.

He sank to the ground, a tear slowly dripped down his dirty face.

“Why, why is this all happening to me!?

He hugged the small, cold body tightly, then stood up and quickly ran away.

End Pt 2.

I actually thought this was way too short, but I dotn think the audience will like it…..

I will be online for a while now, so if you guys want more, ill just type it up!

~Sashi