Bafer he markt me, Cravik told me sumthing. "Once chosin always chosin." he sed, or sumthing like that. I dun ramember ekzaktlee, but I do not no if this is true. Duz Melchior still listin to me? Duz he care? Did he heer all of my apolagees? Did he heer my pain? I do not no. I feel veree alone right now. Mebbe I am still chosin, mebbe not. I do not evin no wat I am aneemore. Am I Human? Am I Dryth? Am I sumthing else all tagethur? It is all veree confuzing fer me.
I no, deep down inside me, that I did sumthing wrong. I no I must have, but I do not no wat I did ekzactlee. I no Melchior sed it was not punishmint to take it away frum me, but, it feels like punishmint. I no he sed he was sorry fer making me suffar, but wat am I doing now? Mebbe if I was smartar I coud see the diffrinss.
I trust in Balor to Guide me down the rite path fer my Fate, so I no this must be part of it sumhow. I no I must fite... fite to live and live to fite. It is all I have reelee. Why do I fite? Do I fite to pertekt? Yes. Do I fite to restore? Yes. Do I fite cuz I like it? Yes. I fite fer Balor and fer my frends and fer lots of things but mostlee I think I fite fer myself cuz is gives me sumthing. I do not no wat it gives me, but it gives me sumthing. I gess it gives me a purpiss. Like Balor sed... just a purpiss.
It makes me sad to think that without it I am nuthing. But I gess that is cuz I do not reelee no wat I am aneemore or wat to fite fer. I am luckee to have a purpiss attall. I do not think most peepul no wat ther purpiss is. I am glad I no mine. It makes things simpal fer me.
I will fite to fite. I will fite to live. I will live to fite. It duz not mattar wat I fite fer cuz in the end I fite fer only one thing and that is Balor.
I am not as strong as peepul think I am. They burnd me and it was horibal. My legs was like jellee, but stiff. I coud not evin move. I was horibal. I do not ramembar much tho eksept the smell. That smell of burning flesh I hate it. It makes me ramembar things I do not want to ramembar.
Peepul stare at me. I feel ther eyes on me all the time. I can not hide it, the mark on me. I can not make it go away. It is red and angry on me. I think soon the Vek will come fer me. Peepul talk. I heer them. I heer them they call me names like I am deff.
I apolagized ovar and ovar to Melchior, to Balor, to all the Gods cuz I must have made one of them angry with me to have this. I thot I was good, but I must have done sumthing bad. I begged with them, but... it is my punishmint I gess. I tell myself that it will help to save the othars, cuz it is all my falt that the Guard nos. If I am markd, the othars will have more time... I tell myself this ovar and ovar, but, in my hart, it duz not make me feel bettar.
It duz not make me feel bettar cuz I no the Vek will come fer me. Prob'lee in my sleep cuz they are godliss cowards. I think mebbe I have made the Gods mad at me. I was week and cryd when he put the fire on me. I passed out wen I smelld the smoke. I think I have made the Gods mad fer being so week. I tryd to be strong, but I am so veree week.
I have seen so manee peepul who are like rocks. They are hard and strong on the inside and feel nuthing. I want to be a rock, but I am too week to be one. Too week and too dum. If I wuz smartar I coud be a rock and make myself hard. I woud nevar be scart agin.
The Duty Office
This clean office contains a very large desk that has been set before the
southern wall, facing the northern doorway, the only means to enter or exit the
room. Sat behind the desk is a large, comfortable looking leather chair, the
leather seems worn by use, but retains much of its rich burgundy colour.
Hanging besides the doorway is a tapestry that almost reaches from floor to
ceiling, judging by the still vibrant colours it is a relatively new addition
to the room's decor. The floor is carpeted; the plush fibers dyed a deep
cardinal. A small fireplace set into the eastern wall, its generous light
joining with the rich, warm colours to create a very cozy feeling, breathes
warmth into the room.
[ Exits: north ]
A cozy and warm fireplace is imbedded into the wall.
A large desk of polished oak is here.
A tall, blonde-haired man with eyes the color of ice is standing here.
You walk south dragging a massive hammer along the ground.
A tall, blonde-haired man closes the door.
Tzoli shrugs slightly as a tall, blonde-haired man speaks, offering no words of her own in return. She sighs heavily, "Err yah gunna burn me?" she asks after a moment. "If yer gunna... I suggest yah tie me down... cuz.. cuz.. cuz I dunno whah I'll do ifn ayah dun." She says softly, her words stuttering and stammering out of her.
A tall, blonde-haired man gently closes the door once Tzoli is through. Slowly he turns back towards her, "I'm going to have to brand you with that," he motions to an iron brand in the corner. "As for tying you down, there's nothing here that will allow me to do such, but, I could put you to sleep magically if you'd prefer," he offers, as of yet making no move towards the fire or the brand next to it.
Tzoli lifts her hammer and holds it out to a tall, blonde-haired man, the massive thing glinting softly with the firelight against it. The rune carved handle it burnished and dark where it looks to be held often, smooth and supple from use. Her other hand shakes as she holds it and she keeps her eyes turned away, but the fear on her face is quite obvious. She chews on her lower lip as she starts to sway back and forth, her eyes looking over to the iron. Her horribly scarred hand grips at her weapon tighter now, "T,t,t, take it... quick..." Her eyes linger on the brand, "Where is it gunna go?"
A tall, blonde-haired man "Your forearm," he replies accepting the hammer with some difficulty in both hands. "You may want to sit down, perhaps on the Captain's desk or at the very least lean against it," he suggests as he turns back towards the door and places the large hammer next to it (a sigh of relief or perhaps satisfaction given off when it's upon the ground). "It'll take a few moments to get the brand hot."
You give a heavy, grey warhammer bearing runic carvings to a tall, blonde-haired man.
Tzoli looks down at her forearm, it is already completely covered with the burn scars and she blinks at it. She relinquishes her hammer with some effort to a tall, blonde-haired man, "Uhhh... on mah arm?" she asks, poking at her scars with her long fingers, "But, I'm all reddee all burnt up there... Kin yah put burns on toppah burns?" she asks, confused as she looks over to the desk. She sighs and walks over to it, leaning against it. Her legs shake, but her knees are locked. She takes a slow deep breath and closes her eyes, trying desperately not to look at the branding iron.
You think to yourself: 'Balor... give me strength... please.. give me strength. [images of fire and the smell of burning fat] Gods... why this? Why fire? Balor... please... I don't mean to feel fear... I'm sorry, please, help me to be strong. I need to be strong.'
A tall, blonde-haired man moves slowly over to the iron brand and lifts it from its place beside the fire. Quickly he inserts it into the hot coals before turning back towards Tzoli. "Yes, burns will show on burns. I am sorry about this. I tried to convince them that you were no longer able to hear thoughts, but they think that you could be lying about it."
Tzoli looks down at her hands, her breath ragged. She laughs nervously, "L..l.. leest I wun be abal tah feel it on mah arm... I rekkin thah'sah 'vantige ah bein burnt up bafer huh?" She looks up at a tall, blonde-haired man, her eyes watering with pure, unbridled fear as they catch a glimpse of the branding iron in the fire. She sets her jaw, gritting her teeth as her legs freeze up completely now. "L..leest it syah... I know yah wou'nt do this ifn yah din't haftah... I'll bet yah'll gitta p-ramoshin huh? Lee... leeeest su, su, sumthin good'll come frum all this huh?"
"I doubt that I'll be getting a promotion anytime soon," replies a tall, blonde-haired man as his glances towards the fire for a moment and then back towards Tzoli. "It's highly unusual that I got the first one given the fact that I'm not a noble. A second one is at best unlikely," a frown flickers across his face, "I can take a bit of the pain away with some magic once it is done, but it'll do little if anything for the scaring."
Tzoli shakes her head, "Dun worry bout thah pain, I kinna feel mah hands err arms... frum where I got burnt up bafer. It killed all the feelers in 'em err sumthin. I dunno." She shrugs, taking an unsteady breath. She looks at the fire as the end of the iron starts to glow, not red hot, but it's getting there. Her legs seems to give out on her as she stares at it. "Wh... why fire?" she says, though to no one in particular. She squeezes her eyes shut as she attempts, in vain, to steady herself against the desk.
You think to yourself: 'O Balor, my sins are many, my trespasses are great; and Fate has plagued me with stupidity and wretchedness. I fainted: but no one stretched forth his hand! I groaned: but no one drew close! I cried aloud: but no one heard! O Balor! Do not abandon Your servant! In the waters of the great storm, I reach for your hand! The sins which I have committed, turn me to righteousness. I pray you forgive me for I am humble. I pray you forgive me for I am small in Your light. '
Lets out a soft sigh as he reaches down and grasps the leather wrapped handle of the brand and draws it from the fire. He has (purposely) placed his torso between the brand and Tzoli, "Turn your head, stick out your hands, and close your eyes," suggests a tall, blonde-haired man, before turning towards her.
Tzoli starts to shake, unconscious tears rolling down her cheek. "I'm sorry... I.. I'm s,s,s orry..." she mumurs softly, though to who, it is uncertain, perhaps to the Gods themselves. Her tears roll around her cheeks, falling off of her dark skin. She seems unable to move or even turn away, her arms hanging limply by her side. She simply stands there, muttering her apologies, her eyes wide and unblinking as water falls from them.
You think to yourself: 'Balor, please give me strength... please, please. [the smell of smoke fills the mind and the mouth, nausea and sheer terror rolling upward from the stomach] Melchior... I am sorry... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... oh please... the fire... sorry... sorry... Gods... *though turns incoherant as it is chased away by fear and memory that lingers in the smell of burning flesh*'
"Are you sure you wouldn't rather I put you to sleep?" asks a tall, blonde-haired man softly as he steps nearer to Tzoli. His left hand comes up motioning for her to extend her arm towards him. "It'd take a bit of the fear out of it," he comments, the white hot iron of the brand remaining at his side now.
Tzoli stands still, her body motionless as her eyes remain wide and unmoving. "The smell... burn up.... I'll burn up... sorry... wasn't fast enough.. couldn't save... sorry... sorry... burn up... the smell..." her words trail off into incoherant mumbling, then nothing at all. her hands begins to shake by her side as she closes her eyes, huge tears gushing from her eyes as she does.
A tall, blonde-haired man brings his hand forward, grabbing Tzoli's right one as he continues to hold the brand in his right hand at his side. "This will only last a moment," he murmurs softly, his gaze shifting between Tzoli's face and the arm that he is supposed to be branding.
Tzoli's arm is stiff, but shaking. Thin fibrous muscles can be felt beneath the heavily scarred skin. The palms of her hands are scarred as well as the tops, the burn scars trailing up almost to her elbows where the trail off and look almost like flame dancing upward. She remains silent, her eyes closed. Her face is wet with tears and perspiration and the sound of gritting, grinding teeth eminates softly from her.
You think to yourself: '[a blurry memory of flames twisting up deep purple skirts and white petticoats. The smeel of burning fat and muscles. The pain of the onlookers own flesh burning and melting as she drags something from the flames.] *utter fear and petrification*'
A tall, blonde-haired man draws in a breath as he quickly brings the brand of the iron up and presses it into the exposed skin of her forearm. Immediately the smell of burnt flesh rises into the air as well as the sound of it actually burning. Once it comes into contact with the skin he lets out a soft sigh and after only a few moments of contact he begins to draw it away.
As the iron presses into the flesh and the smell of burning wafts through the air, Tzoli goes limp and pitches forward. A small gagging noise can be heard from her before her knees buckle, sending her toward the floor. Her eyes lull open, rolled back in her head, making it obvious she is no longer aware of... well... anything at all.
A tall, blonde-haired man takes a step back from Tzoli's falling form, his own thin frame likely no match for holding her up beyond which he still holds the hot brand. A step is taken back and the brand leaned against the side before moving forward to try and take care of Tzoli. "Tzoli?"
Tzoli hits the floor after a moment, nothing to catch her. Her branded arm stretches outward to her side, her other beneath her. She is quite obviously unconscious, a look of fear and pain twisted onto her features as she just lays there, her eyes slitted open with only whites showing. The angry brand can be seen as her arm is twisted at a strange (but not unfathomable) angle at her side.
A tall, blonde-haired man lets out a soft sigh as he attempts to shift Tzoli slightly upon the floor and put her in a more comfortable (looking) position. His expression is one of perhaps sympathy, though anger can be found behind his ice colored eyes. "Tzoli?"
You think to yourself: '[The smell of burning hay, the sounds of screams... a boy's screams. At first they scream words, choked on smoke and the popping of wood, but soon, they are nothing but screams of pain. The sounds of laughter... cruel and angry. Agony. -Running- Fire everywhere. -Searching- The smell of burning flesh mingles with the burning hay and wood. The smell nauseating and horrible] *pain, fear, desperation* [-Searching- 'Niko? Nikolas!' Niko!" Gargled screams fading away... the smell of human flesh suffocates, weighs everything down. -Discovery- A writhing body, burning. -Grabbing- -Dragging- -Burning- Flames lick up the body onto the skirts, the hands that grab onto it desperately]'
Tzoli's limp body flops to where it is manuvered. Movement can be seen beneath the eyelid, tears rolling out from them. Agony twists the features, an agony that speaks of something more than physical pain.
A tall, blonde-haired man rises up from his kneeling position beside Tzoli and moves towards the book shelf. Once there he opens a small box and draws out a roll of bandages before turning back towards her, "I'm sorry for all of this," he comments as he begins to return to the fallen woman's side.
You think to yourself: '[Choking and gagging on the smells, on the smoke. Falling down, the charred, burning body falling onto the long skirts, catching them aflame. -Panic- Desperation as the onlooker tries to pulls herself free. The feeling of burning fat melting around hands and arms, burning them. The ceiling, fear as the onlooker watches a falling ball of fire that was once a bit of wood from the cieling. The ball of fire approaches. 'Balor...no.... I don't wanna die here..' The burning plank misses, landing to the right side of the person dragging the body. The heart strengthens as she stands again, dragging the body from the building. Flames dance up the dark skin of the arms. Flames dance up the hems of the skirt. Heat and smoke dull the senses.] *pain* [The outside of the barn, the clear sky obstructed by smoke. The body burns, smoldering in the girl's lap upon the thick skirts. Screaming, agonizing screaming as the flames continue up her arms. The voices of boys. Two faces looking down as the girl collapses onto the ground, weak, tired, unfocused and in pain. 'The moron and the invalid are gunna go ta Annwn tagether. Ain't they? Good riddance ta 'em. Jus draggin tha rest ah us down.' Laughter as the two boys laugh. Attempts to move, to grab them as they run away.] *Held down by pain.* ['Momma! Momma help me! Momma! I don't wanna die...! MOMMA!' -Screaming- Attempts to move away from the body, fat melting into fat, flesh melting onto flesh. Wailing, attempting to crawl away.]'
Tzoli sits up rather suddenly and screams a high pitched wail, her eyes open wide, her black eyes attempting to bug out of her skull. Her scream it shrill and taunt with pain, with memory. She grabs at her skull, pulling her arm away from a tall, blonde-haired man without even thinking. She grabs at her head and screams again, this time, the scream is softer, more like a sob that won't come out right. She falls silent and shakes, "The smell... jus like bafer... I thought I wuz stronger... no more... no more... Gods... please... "
"Give me your arm," commands a tall, blonde-haired man, his tone soft, but the clarity making it clear that it is a command not a request. His own hands come together, unwraping some of the bandage roll in preperation for its use. His does not look at Tzoli, instead focusing his efforts on his task at hand.
Tzoli lets her arm fall limp from her head and just sits there. "Burn up... meltid all tagether... burn up an blow away. Ashes... ashes an fire. The smell,.." she mumbles, her eyes wide as she rocks gently back and forth. "Shou'dah bin fastar... my skirts... my hands... burnt up... evarything burnt up... Niko burnt up ... meltid up with me..." She turns and looks at a tall, blonde-haired man and blinks at him, her eyes returning to a wide open state each time she does. "I wuz burnt up. Why do they wanna burn me? I din't do nuthin... /HE/ din't do nuthin." She offers her hand out to a tall, blonde-haired man, the brand on her arm angry against the scarred flesh, the dull smell of burnt skin lingering on her.
A tall, blonde-haired man accepts the arm and slowly begins to wrap it in the bandage. "The answer to that question is something that I do not know," he offers softly as he continues to wrap the would in the off white cloth. "I've spent many nights asking myself the same question, why ally with the Vek, why mark the Dryth, and I've still come up with the same confusion for an answer."
Tzoli looks away from her arm and subsequently a tall, blonde-haired man, "Vek... right the vek..." she blinks a few more times, using her other hand to wipe at her eyes. "They'll come fer me now. Strap me down. They'll come and torture me. Like before. They'll do it. They'll hunt me and hate me. I wish I wuz stronger, then I could fight them... then Melchior would fergive me, if I wuz stronger I couldah dun bettar." She looks back to a tall, blonde-haired man, "Is it okay if I hate yah ferrah littal bit? The smell... an the mem'ree, I think I haftah hate yah ferrah lil bit..."
"You can do as you wish, Tzoli," replies a tall, blonde-haired man softly as he tears the cloth and tucks it in to keep it in place. "I like to think that I have control over a few things, but how people perceive me is certainly not one of them." Slowly he rises from Tzoli and turns back towards the bookcase, likely planning to return the bandages to their place.
"Dont tell peepul how scared I git ah fire... I dun like peepul tah know... they'll think I'mmah baby err sumthin..." Tzoli says softly, shame in her voice. She pauses and sighs, "An... I dun think I kin hate yah... My hate is alreddee filled up with othar things..." she sighs and leans forward, struggling to her feet. She looks tired, and, despites her height, very, very small.
A tall, blonde-haired man nods his head slightly as he turns back towards Tzoli, "As I said, you can do as you wish, but your secret of fire is safe with me," he smiles faintly, "I'm not sure any would believe me if I told them anyway," he takes a step nearer to her. "Come, I can walk you back to the Inn. It's on my way to the tavern."
Tzoli nods slightly and looks down at her hands. She looks around the room, eventually finding what she is looking for. she walks over to her hammer and picks it up with her left hand (and obviously her good arm. She rests it on her shoulder and trudges after a tall, blonde-haired man. "I'm not as strong as peepul think I am..." She chuckles softly, her voice mirthless, monotone as she does.
A tall, blonde-haired man draws the door open and steps through, once last gaze afforded the iron that he had returned ealier to its place near the fire. "So it is with us all," he murmurs as he now starts towards the inn. "I'm sorry that it had to come to that, Tzoli," he says softly.
Tzoli pulls her bandaged arm to her body, as if trying to hide it. She looks to a tall, blonde-haired man, "S'mah punishmint fer thah bad things I did I sappose. I did bad things an got evaryone in trubal, sah I gotta pay fer it." She tries to smile, "S'okay, I know I daserve it... I daserve lots worse..."
I fin'lee got a whole nite of sleep. It was good. aftar the piknik with the childrins and the games and party, it was good to ralax. I got to my room and fell onto my bed and sleepd. I think I barely evin kicked off my boots bafer I was out.
Wen I woke up this morning, it was cold. It reelee is the end of Autumn I rekkin. I sleed on top of the blankit, so my skin was all cold and frosty. I hate cold. Ick. At brekfast, I was told by one of them Bar Maids that peepul was looking fer me last nite. I wundar if they evin nocked on my door? Mebbe I slept threw it. Pro'blee I did. I do not ramembar sleeping so good. I feel reelee grate today. All... alive.
I wundar who was looking fer me. Mebbe it was Sehki, or Skye, or Hemo... I do not no who else woud look fer me. I hope it was not the Guard... but, I do not think they woud have just left. Will they come fer me in the middal of the nite like that? Seems kind of rude to come then. I sappose they woud come then. It is the time most peepul are in ther rooms. Mebbe next time they will not leeve and mash up my door and drag me away.
Dam... and I was feeling so good today.
I hope I am just being silly.
...turn around...
...don't...
...turn around.
The man in the shadows wispered at me. Of all the days to leev my hammar in my room. I wuz going to a piknik with the childrins at the Fallin Stars. I took the shortcut in the alley to git ther.
He did not reelee sneek up on me. I new he was ther. I do not no how, but I felt it. My hands tingled. And I was all the suddin redde fer battal. My hart thumpd all hevee like in me and I was... excitid. I am ashamed of that. I was excitid to fite.
He had a littal nife aginst my bak. I think he was trying to rob me. I do not no wat he wantid tho. I did not wait to hear him ask. I grabbd his rist and squeezd it. He was like a rag doll as I spun my leg into his ankles and made him fall to the ground, still holding his rist. I herd all the air blow out of him. I turnd and lookt at him.
He told me not to turn around, but then, I did. I saw him. I turnd around intending to punch hit throt in, but wen I saw him I coud not do that. It was a child. I think I broke his rist in my hand cuz wen I let go he cluched it to his chest. at a weerd angal. I felt giltee. I did not think, I just actid.
Then he spoke.
...bastard... you filthee queer bastard... how dare you...
I lookt at him and I felt nothing. My gilt went away cuz I saw his eyes and I new he woud have killt me. I wantid to step on his throt and crush him, but I did not. I got his nife and leend ovar him. I tryd my best to look like a big man cuz I sappose he did not reelize I was a woman until I leend ovar.
I smaked his cheek with my hand, not hard, gental like. I sed "My name is Tzoli Kita. Ramember it cuz next time I will not let you live." Then I squeezed his brokin rist and walkd away. He did not fallow me. I wished he did so I coud have let out all the anger I felt at him. In my hed I pictured myself crushing all the life frum him, then crushing his face with my hands til he was ded, then stabbing him ovar and ovar with his own nife... I thot of a millin ways to kill him in my hed.
By the time I got to the piknik, I did not feel like eeting. But I did and I smiled reel big fer all the childrins.
Aftar a littal bit, I fergot I was angry attall and my smile was reel.
I finlee got sum sleeps. It was a good sleep with no dreems. I think I sleeped fer a whole day. My hed duz not hurt so much no more. I feel bettar.
I have desidid that I am going to work to bild a Arena fer Balor. I made a promiss to him in my prayers wen I had that hedake that if I coud just sleep a littal bit, I woud make one fer him. I got sum sleep, so I will keep my promiss. I wantid to bild it with monies frum the turnamint of mite that was sapposed to happin, but Cravik sed he would give me bak my monees frum it. I am a littal dissapointid that it will not happin now. I wantid to fite in it. I reelee wantid to fite in it. It seemed like fun.
I thot if I coud win that turnamint Tournament, I coud have part of the monies fer the arena. It woud be a plass fer strong peepul to fite eech othar. Peepul coud lern new things and show Balor how strong they is. Soldiers coud fite and evin reg'lar peepul. Bak home peepul always made things called bets on fites like that. We woud all go and wach them. It was fun. One time, my mum told me my pa used to fite in them. He woud win most of the time evin. My mum evin sed that she fot in one to. She nevar told me if she won or not tho. Or mebbe I fergot. Prob'lee I fergot.
At the arena bak home we always sat in the same plass. It was a box with comfy chairs. Me and my mum woud wach the fites and cheer reel loud. My mum told me in fites like those, Balor woud pik the winnar and give them strength to win. It was Fate... like war and battal and inspirashin. She woud call me her Littal Sun and say one day I woud go into an arena and fite also. She sed if I trained evaryday and always held Balor in my hart, I woud win. I beleeve that. I think part of winning is being good anuff. Training... practissing... getting bettar... but I also think aftar a certin point, it is Balor who dacides who wins. He piks ther fate for the winnar and makes them strong. he pulls on the strings and opponents will fall fer them.
I want to be the persin Balor piks.
So, I have to bild an arena so I can fite. I no I do not have anuff monees for it, but mebbe I can ask peepul. I think if I find lots of peepul who are loyal to Balor, we can bild it together. We can find peepul to give us monies.
In do not no if I shoud be the one to ask rich peepul fer monies tho. Peepul think bad things abot me cuz they think I am Dryth still. Mebbe I will ask Cravik. Cravik is smart and rich. He can help me find a way to make monees cuz he has lots of monees hisself. He has good ideas and will understand me without manee questions. He is a good persin. I like him. He always helps me wen I have hard questions to ask.
I want to make Balor proud of me. I no I shoud do more, but I do not no wat to do and this is the best idea I can think of.
I spent the hole day in my room at the Inn. The hole thing. I did not evin leeve to train. I trained in my room. My hed hurts so much I can hardlee see. Sumtimes evarything goze black and I think I will not be abal to see agin, then it comes back and I am dizzy. It is like my visin thumps with my hart. This hedake has onlee gottin worser sinss I saw that boy and girl in the Fallin Stars plass.
I prayd to the Gods to take away this pain. I begged on hand an nee. Evin training did not make it go away like usual. Evin now... now it hurts so much. I can hardlee make words.
I beg Balor... Melchior... Cymur... anee of the Gods to take this pain away. I beg them, but I no deep inside they will not ansur me. It is a selfish thing to ask of them. It is just a hedake. I no I shoud not ask them to take away my pain wen they probablee gave it to me fer a reesin. I no I shoud not.. **this section is blurred away by a smeared red spot** ...but I wish... **more blurring** ...pain.
Gods pleese.. **still more blurring** ...fer wat I did.
My nose bleeds me. I shoud sleep. I wish I coud sleep. Mebbe the pain will stop fer a littal bit. Or mebbe jus take a lil step bak.
Come away with me... in the nite...
Come away with me...
I herd the childrins wipser. I fell asleep with littal Benni on my lap, curled up an sucking on his thum. The wipsers woke me up. I spent the nite as a promiss to Benni. It was strange, with the childrins, I do not git hedaches, but wen I herd the wispers of those to, I coud feel the thudding start in ther.
The girl and boy... they was 14 an 15.. soon they woud be let out as apprentissis. They was running away. I herd them. It made me hurt to no they woud be out ther alone, but it also made me happy to see them. They held eech othars hands, sneeking into the orchard wher me and Benni had fallin asleep. The sat on the bench while I leened aginst the tree. I do not think they saw me. It was dark and raining.
They lookt so in love. So happy. The boy... he ramindid me of sumone, but I cannot put a name on who. I suppose the name went away frum me. i watchd as the boy kissd the girl's cheek and tempals and hands. He promissd to take care of her ferevar. He promissd to nevar leeve her. To always love her. She promissd the same. I felt bad waching them. I felt bad peeking.
But I coud not turn away. Evin tho I tryd.
I watchd them kiss eech othar a millin times. Then they ran off bak to the bilding. I did not see them in the morning. Mebbe I dreemd them up, but I do not think so. The ladees did not seem worreed they were not ther. They did not seem to care. Mebbe it was becuz they had so many othar childrins to wach.
Benni is gittin much bettar. Bak to his regular self agin now that the heelars givd him medisin fer his ear ake. I do not think I will stay here agin tonite.
It maks me sad.
I had a dreem last nite. I dun ramembar all of it, but wat I do ramembar is weerd in my hed. It makes me want to think abot it.
In my deem I was walkin rond the city and there was demmins an smoke evarywhere. Evarything smellt like fire, I dunno why I was jus walkin. I was... clam on the inside in my dreem. It was weerd. I saw a demmin an I just killt it. I