Hey everyone, this is part one to my new story, and the title is corny, but just read it =P

[h]Part One[/h]

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, and fell into 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.

End Part One’o

=]
Sorry I hav’ta go to sleep now, so goodnight everyone, and hope you enjoyed the story!

~Sashi