Just a little drabble I had decided to do. I was bored this night--can't get to sleep.
I also wanted to try my hand at this depressing stuff.
Enjoy!
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Jaffar crept through the halls, trying to be as stealthy as he could.
Punishment for disobedience was harsh.
He had refused to kill a roomful of children—little older than the little happy green-haired girl.
Happy.
They had placed daggers in his hands.
No. whack!
No. Whack!
No. WHACK!
They took the daggers away—as well as food for two days.
He was so hungry…and he missed Mother…Slowly he made his way through the corridors. He had memorized his way around now. Just take a right, a left, straight and down…voila! There was the kitchen.
He prepared to pillage it. His heart quickened at the thought of food…Then Ephidel and his fellow morphs jumped him. He was fourteen at the time.
He woke up with bandages across his chest, lying on his thin straw cot. The sheets were bloody and filthy. He was burning with infection. All access to his room was denied. He had to get well on his own.
Hours blurred into days. Days smeared into weeks. What was time? Where was he?
When he showed signs of improvement, they put the daggers in his hands again.
Blood.
They flashed cat-grins and set him on other jobs.
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What was his life before this? He remembered…
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Seven years old. Tag! You're it!
He laughed. Laughter. That was long ago.
"Maria! I got you!" Laughter.
"No, Jaffar! No you didn't! Cause I got Jeremy!"
"Well…" She pulled him into the bush.
"Jaffar?" She had pecked him on the cheek. "You're handsome." Then she had run out of the bush screaming that she had tagged Jaffar. He had laughed. Maria, beautiful girl. Lush red hair and gray/hazel eyes. She was thin and pale, but strong.
Laughter.
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15 years old. Another little mission.
Cause a family misery.
Target: A beautiful young woman with red hair and gray/hazel eyes.
No remorse. Kill. No remorse.
She approached him.
"Jaffar! Jaffar!" Tears. Her pale swan neck was exposed. She had grown so much. What a shame.
What a shame.
"Jaffar? What's wrong?" He had pulled out a knife. His hand was shaking.
"Jaffar! Jaffar! No, you can't do this!" No…he couldn't.
If he was Jaffar. If he was still him.
Red blossomed. But she clung to him.
"I always did like you…no…matter…what………" He shoved the carcass away and ran. Ran.
That was his hardest mission. The others were easy. Compared to that one.
Minor lords fell because of this young boy. Knights. Then…his first lord. First noble mission.
Dead, too.
And it wasn't hard. Compared to that one.
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