The Stories That Once Were!

A loud clap of thunder pierced through the dark skies, as the clouds had just unloaded their sorrowful tears upon the large kingdom; followed by a playful flash of lightning, the thunder continuing its loud bellow, while everyone ran around in circles, looking for shelter. In the chaos of pattering feet, small mumbles, and children giggling, while running on home, their clothes soaked; an elder man was busy in his workshop by the light of a few candles.

Grey eyes focused with serious concentration, while hands and fingers worked quickly, a quill pen scraping against a piece of parchment, while a clock above, ticked in time with the pattering rain outside. It wouldn’t be long before they would come, and ask him of his answers.

Another loud bang of thunder, had the man’s fingers trembling, as he quickly finished his writing, and rolled up the parchment, adding a golden ribbon to seal it; before silently placing it in a drawer full with many others. The clothes he wore, was a beige shirt, looking as though an artist had spat on it, with all the ink it was imprinted with; his charcoal pants were no better, being painted also, by golden dust, as well as the loafers he wore on his feet. His long grey hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and this, he was comfortable with.

The shop of which he lived in, wasn’t too much to look at; with shelves full of pottery, and some wooden works hanging out on his work desk; mostly what his customers came in, was for his wonderful writings; which were mostly poems, short stories, about life itself, and what he thought of it. He had just finished another piece of writing, and now...

A loud rapping at his door, had him look up from the stash of scrolls he had spread out on the desk; his grey eyes widening, as two figures wearing robes, walked through without permission. Their judgmental eyes looked around the small shop, taking in its surroundings, before both pairs turned to the man who was the artist of it all. In his hand, he gripped one of the scrolls that he had recently finished.

“Randafer....?” one of the figures spoke, their voice echoing throughout the shop firmly.

“Whatever you seek, I do not have it here....”

“Come now, Randafer, we know you better than that. You understand the consequences if you resist against us....”

A deep frown appeared on Randafer’s features, as he gripped the scroll of which they sought, “Can’t you take something el-?”

“A deal is a deal, Randafer.” The figure narrowed their soulless eyes, while a hand was reached out towards the man, to receive what he held.

Randafer clenched his teeth, before shoving the scroll into his hand, and soon, they both left the same way they came. A deep sigh left Randafer’s lips, as he turned back to his desk, and rested an elbow against the wood, his hand resting against his chin. “I hope you accept what I’ve given you.” He stared at another scroll, the one with golden writing, and allowed a small smile to form on his lips, as he picked it up and nodded, “At least, they didn’t take you...”