Status: Writingg....
Finding the Forsaken
Chapter One
Run, run, run, was all I could think as I sprinted away from our house. I cast a quick glace over my shoulder to see my father putting away the horse, done with his day of plowing. Next, he would walk to the small cabin we called home and would see how much scrubbing I got done.
All I ever did was work. My mother was dead; the feared plague had taken her a year before. After the accident, all my father did was work and drink. And he expected me to do the same, without the drinking of course. I tolerated the over-working for months on end but it was all too much.
My father would come home every night after finishing the planting and check up on me and soon after he would leave to the tavern in a small village just out of the reach of our land. He would come home drunk and if my work wasn't done I would get beaten. I felt like a rag doll, being slapped around every night, I felt hopeless and scared.
I ran deeper and deeper into the forest as the sunlight faded and dimmed in the already shadowy forest. I kept running and running, trying to get enough distance between me and my now probably furious father.
I slowed down to catch my breath and was walking at a brisk pace when I sensed something... or someone watching me. Stiffening, I hunched over around my small bag of possessions, a soft cotton gown my mother made for me, some food, and a dagger I stole from my father’s bedside.
Glancing around quickly, I began to hum to soothe my nerves but the sound just echoed back to me eerily, not helping my racing heart. Ok, now I was really freaking myself out. What if my father followed me? If someone tries to mess with me I have a knife... I shouted out in my head. Yeah right. I've never used a knife, let alone had to stab someone. I argued with myself and kept walking, momentarily distracted.
A snap. I spun around searching for the culprit and groping wildly for my dagger in my makeshift bag. Crap, I knew this was going to happen. I found the cold steel blade of the knife and pulled it out of my bag after finding the hilt. I held it up tentatively not really intending to stab someone, so I looked for some where to hide.
I dashed to a tree and stood behind the huge trunk, waiting for whatever was out there to present itself. As I began to peek around the tree something flew out from behind me and I felt warm flesh wrap around my mouth. I knew better than to scream, no one would hear me. Instead I thrashed around wildly trying to get out of the iron grip on my mouth and waist.
I raked my dagger down what felt like a leg and pulled back sharply amazed at what I had done. The only reaction that I got from it was a gasp of pain but no release. Twisting my body around to scrutinize my captor I found myself looking into the face of a young boy, about my age, 16, with smudges of dirt on his cheeks and a wild look in his eyes.
All I ever did was work. My mother was dead; the feared plague had taken her a year before. After the accident, all my father did was work and drink. And he expected me to do the same, without the drinking of course. I tolerated the over-working for months on end but it was all too much.
My father would come home every night after finishing the planting and check up on me and soon after he would leave to the tavern in a small village just out of the reach of our land. He would come home drunk and if my work wasn't done I would get beaten. I felt like a rag doll, being slapped around every night, I felt hopeless and scared.
I ran deeper and deeper into the forest as the sunlight faded and dimmed in the already shadowy forest. I kept running and running, trying to get enough distance between me and my now probably furious father.
I slowed down to catch my breath and was walking at a brisk pace when I sensed something... or someone watching me. Stiffening, I hunched over around my small bag of possessions, a soft cotton gown my mother made for me, some food, and a dagger I stole from my father’s bedside.
Glancing around quickly, I began to hum to soothe my nerves but the sound just echoed back to me eerily, not helping my racing heart. Ok, now I was really freaking myself out. What if my father followed me? If someone tries to mess with me I have a knife... I shouted out in my head. Yeah right. I've never used a knife, let alone had to stab someone. I argued with myself and kept walking, momentarily distracted.
A snap. I spun around searching for the culprit and groping wildly for my dagger in my makeshift bag. Crap, I knew this was going to happen. I found the cold steel blade of the knife and pulled it out of my bag after finding the hilt. I held it up tentatively not really intending to stab someone, so I looked for some where to hide.
I dashed to a tree and stood behind the huge trunk, waiting for whatever was out there to present itself. As I began to peek around the tree something flew out from behind me and I felt warm flesh wrap around my mouth. I knew better than to scream, no one would hear me. Instead I thrashed around wildly trying to get out of the iron grip on my mouth and waist.
I raked my dagger down what felt like a leg and pulled back sharply amazed at what I had done. The only reaction that I got from it was a gasp of pain but no release. Twisting my body around to scrutinize my captor I found myself looking into the face of a young boy, about my age, 16, with smudges of dirt on his cheeks and a wild look in his eyes.