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It isnt your fault for what we are going to do; rp1 vs beautiful agony
Topic Started: Oct 20 2008, 01:29 PM (104 Views)
"Psycho" Sam Attic
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CZW Elite Role Player
The light of the flickering candle drew down to the base of the wax. The drippings left a trail of
wax tears for the time it had spent on the fire. Like to many souls left to burn in agonizing torture, he watched the last drop of the wax fall into the puddle it had created
of its own self.

The mind is a dangerous thing, when left to dwell in its own dark recess'
it can create a hell like no other. There is where he dwells when not bothered with everyday toils and troubles. It is there that the truth he learned so long ago teaches him what he has to do in order to survive. And he is a survivor.

With a blank expression on his face and his hair hanging about his head as a living
mantle, Ezra stood and walked to the shelf of books that lined one wall of this place they called a home. He reached up and drew down an old leather covered edition of a tale that he had
bought from an antique dealer. It had once been a language long lost to the ears of man, but had been translated to the current text it was now. Moving to the corner he switched on a small lamp. The light was barely enough to see, and to him and his way it was more than enough. Turning the pages as they crackled lightly with age, he stared at the words and began to absorb them. The sentences made sense in a way that made him want to fall into the story and what it meant.

<><><>

The tale began with a small child as he worked his way to town with the usual chores in his mind. Sell the eggs, buy the grains for planting and then if possible make some kind of deal for food. The order was not to be questioned, as that was his fathers' wish. The town itself was nothing remarkable. The streets lined with the shops of merchants only out for the almighty money that they could swindle from the passerby's. Reaching the booth of the man he always did business with, the young man sat the basket of eggs and cheese on the shelf and waited till the man inspected the goods. The haggling was a formality as he always ended up with a fair deal. The vendor was a good man and a small amount of respect had begun to be built between
the two. Taking the money he headed for the local granary. The man there was difficult to deal with and demanded a high price for the seeds that he had. True they were the finest in the land, still a deal had to be reached for the seeds.

Turning the corner of the market place, a hand reached out and grabbed the young
man from the side. Dragging him into a doorway, the figure turned and shoved him face first into the side of it. Reaching around him he found the small pouch and removed it. The figure slammed the boys' face hard into the wall stunning him long enough for a get away. The young man
shaken and bleeding slumped to the ground.

His mind dazed with the horror he just experienced, he could only feel as if he had let the world down. His family needed that money and he had carelessly let it be taken away. Now because of his inadequacy, he had lost it all. The feeling of dread at having to face his family forced the first of many tears to fall from his face and then to the ground.

A kind hand touched his shoulder and he turned his tear stained face to the sky to see the old man that ran the stand he sold eggs at. Holding his hand out, the old man helped the young lad to his feet and aided him in straightening up.

Walking beside the elderly man, he pours his heart out to him and tells him what happened and what will happen. The older man is sympathetic and feels for the young man but being poor himself, he couldn't help. The young lad nods somberly and heads home to tell his father.

After arriving without anything for dinner and no seed, the father was irate. He reached for the boy and beat him unmercifully. The pain ached in his body for days afterward. And the thought
ran through his mind all the time, it wasn't my fault. Days later after he had healed enough, he was sent to town again. Once more as he had so many time before he sold the eggs and the cheese and went towards the granary. Turning the corner each time he watched for the one that had taken the money he had been hurt so badly over.

Each day blended into the next as time passed the young boy became a young man. The old
man that had bought his eggs had died and he was searching for a new buyer. His mind was on the goods he had when a hand once more reached out and snatched him to the side unawares. The blade of a knife was pressed to his neck and he was robbed once more. Of what little money he had as well as the goods he carried. This time instead of turning to jelly, he waited a few heartbeats and turned to follow his attacker. This time he would not be going back empty handed.

Running through the crowd he spotted a man that looked like the robber. Running full speed at him, he tackled the man and began to slam his head into the ground. A crowd gathered and he finally stopped when the man ceased to fight back. Reaching into the inside pocket of his coat he withdrew the small bag of coins, and looked at it. It wasn't his. He had attacked the wrong man and now he was a killer and the crowd knew it. They grabbed him and held him till the local authorities arrived and had taken him away.

Once inside the jail and having been convicted for the crime he had committed, he sat and waited for the day he was to die. Time dragged by and the voices of the jailers came to him finally. The jingling of keys sounded as they unlocked the door and took him out into the hallway and shackled him so he couldn't run. As he walked the last steps he would ever walk, the jailer asked him why he did it. He told his story and as they were putting his head down to have it cut off, he said his final words.

"It wasn't my fault."

The blade sang its death wind as it fell and severed his head cleanly.


<><><>


Ezra closed the book and placed it on the small table beside him. Reaching for the small glass of brandy he had poured before sitting down, he drank the last of it and reached to turn on the red eyed watcher.

Ezra: You see Havok? You see Monroe? All through the ages, circumstances always caused a string of events that made people do what they had to do. And in the end there was always someone at fault. Just remember when we am standing there above you like angels of death, it wasn't your fault. It is the fault of all the things that have happened before now that will make what we do not your fault. Look at those others around you and know it was their actions that will make you suffer at our hands. Always know that. Because you are going to pay a horrific price for their faults.


Turning the camera off, he reaches to the small lamp and turns it off as well. Darkness covers him on the outside as easily as it did on the inside.
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