Chapter 2: Investigate a Deeper Meaning

I trudged through mud and grass, every step spraying me with the thick material. Hay cut and tore at my open flesh, and stung when the lesions came in contact with the rain. My clothes were soaked through and clung greedily to my body. My hair was plastered to my face and back, making it nearly impossible to see.

Lightning flashed, thunder crackled, and rain poured. I was in the midst of a storm.

There had been no forewarning; not a dark cloud in sight. I had been busy pulling stubborn weeds, when a long breeze swept past me, catching my attention. I looked around then up into the sky. Surprise washed over me, as I saw the many thunderheads. Drops of water fell onto my face and ran down my front; beneath my tunic.

I turned my head in the direction of the house. It would take me at least an hour to reach. By then this storm would grow out of hand. I did however know of a small gathering of houses and stores, just beyond where I stood. I could find shelter, wait the storm out, and then return. My need for a decision was rushed, as thunder sounded in the distance. What to do, I thought to myself. The rain picked up, and turned into a more persistent sprinkling. It looked as if the best choice was going to be the town. But where there was settlement there was people; who I tried to avoid at all cost. You never know who you might meet in a crowd. But still, what choice did I have? For surely I would be struck by lightning or if it were to flood, I would drown.

And here I am now, wandering through the freezing rain, headed towards the retched place. The larger houses could be seen through a wooded area, just beyond my current place. Excitement ran through my veins as the promise of warmth overwhelmed me.

As I entered the town I spotted a couple of stores and what looked to be a pub; perfect. To my delight, no people wandered the streets, with the exception of a two kids playing in the puddles. I entered the tavern to find only a few other customers. Two women sat at the bar, chatting drunkenly with the counter man; both with scanty attire. Another man sat in the corner, under the shadows, sipping something with steam rising from it; presumably tea. I studied him for a fraction of a second more, with caution. He was a stranger and I couldn't be too careful. Because who knew who he really was?

I sauntered up to the bar and sat myself on a stool. The fat bartender eyed me for a moment, before placing his self in front of me.

"What can I do ya' for ma' lady?" He had a gruff voice, almost like Normans; though this man's held no charity. His eyes darted south, below my stare, and I coughed, bringing his attention back to my face.

"I'll have water." The corners of his mouth twitched downward in disappointment. Maybe he thought he'd get lucky if I was drunk? Yet I had no desire for alcohol. Not after my experience dealing with the foul stuff; and especially not in my current circumstance. I needed full control of my body, incase a problem arose. Being a wee bit tipsy would give my opponent, if there were to be one, the upper-hand.

The barman returned with a mug of water. I checked to make sure that the color wasn't altered. I held the glass to my nose, and inhaled any odors that would linger there.

"It's not drugged miss," the barman studied me from the corner of his eye; cleaning the inside of a spotless mug.

Sure it wasn't; just like you're not a perverse man, looking for a good time. Although I hadn't detected any sign of the drink being contaminated, I still took precaution and had the tiniest sip.

Nothing; no color, no smell, no taste, no way it could be drugged. The man smiled malevolently, having made me think otherwise. Dirty bastard; mind my language. I grabbed the glass and took off to a secluded table, away from the few people.

The man in the corner still hadn't moved him from his spot. He was like a statue, or one whose life had preceded them; lifeless. What reason did he have to be so confined?

This subject always bewildered me. Why do people do, what they do? Just think of how many persons you see everyday; the number of people that you overlook, whose presence doesn't even register in your mind. They all have stories. Their lives are novels, every page a different day, every sentence a minute of their life put into words.

But who actually takes the time to read those books; to look at the pages and see what they've encountered and to know why. Every movement, every action is a reaction from a past event, that had such a tremendous effect on their life to alter their thoughts, feelings, and emotions. Yet not one soul stands and ponders the reason.

For who is so conceited in their life, to ignore others'? Look around you, and see these people. But do not look with just your eyes. Hear the madman's babble, ushered between gritted teeth. Smell the scented perfume, roll off the confident woman. Feel the tensed muscles beneath your lover's skin, and taste the sweat, running from your lip.

Use your senses to reveal a person's behavior. But don't stop there; no. Keep going farther, delving deep into the innermost secrets that lay within the soul.

Watch as their eyes dilate and there brow wrinkles. Hear their heart pound beneath their chest. Feel the heat radiating from soft cheeks, and see them flush from pink to red. Taste the passion; the sweet art of making love.

From personality to sex, you can take a closer look; investigate a deeper meaning. But finding out why is not so easy. You can't simply ask a person; "Hello Sir, kindly tell me why you wear your pants so low," or "Lady, why do you walk with a swing in your hips?" It would be blunt, and because of that, highly unlikely for them to give an answer.

So then, how would you know? You won't, can't, it's impossible; I know, I've tried.

AN: More to come!! Don't give up on the story yet, it'll get to the more exciting parts soon enough.