Flashback Gone

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A lawless town of anarchists, built on the ruins of an ancient mining city. [Lore]

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Gone

Postby Timothy Mered on July 25th, 2014, 4:21 am

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20th of Autumn 513AV


Veils of fog slithered like snakes across the water, three masts far was all he could see. Not even the stiffest drink in town could numb the bony cold or withstand the lashing tide and not a soul was foolish enough to try. Not a soul but him, alone.

Alone, the cold couldn’t really hurt because you were already cold inside and no one would come to bother you or tell you what to do. It was nice to be alone and every once in a while, to surrender your thoughts to the elements. Sea gulls sored and squawked high above, dipping low every odd chime to hunt for fish. They seemed to be doing a lot better than the local trade.

“Good afternoon!”

Harley Fisher was born light-hearted, Tim had heard. That, the midwives had said, was because Fisher had the privilege of being born on a Friday and on Fridays life always looked much more pleasant than on Mondays.

“C’mon sour face, the world’s gloomy enough without you in it,” Fisher nearly knocked Tim off the edge of the jetty into the swirling sea below as he patted the lad on the back. He had a way of looking miserable, sitting on the edge of the jetty all hunched over, all serious and a-pondering.

“I should go back to mother,” Tim said

Fisher frowned, “I think she can do without you for a little while. Besides, you haven’t worked yet. Come, a little lifting and loading will heat you up and you’ll be done before you know it.”

“I don’t wanna.” Tim scowled at the bald face with his radiant eyes, then gazed back at the sea. The masts creaked and swayed in the wind, thin drops began to pour from the sky.

“Course you don’t wanna,” Fisher said as he lifted Tim by the scruff of his neck and ruffled his hair. He gazed at the ashen sky with hawken eyes. Fisher had been a sailor once, and a good one too, with claws for fingers, daggers for teeth and laugh lines for scars. He poked one of his sausage fingers in the air, “it’ll be raining soon.”

“It already is.”

Affronted, Fisher turned to face his young pupil. “It’ll be worse.” And no sooner than he’d said it, the sky was ripped apart by white, jagged lines. Tim shivered at the sight. “See? The gods are listening boy, we must’ve caught their attention,” his bulky frame shook with laughter and his bright-red cheeks shone their light on Tim.

“Go on then,” Fisher said as he turned the boy around, “run home. And put something warm on next time, you’re no use frozen!”

Forcing his numb legs to carry him forward, Tim followed the jetty back to the quay and zigzagged his way through the slums of Sunberth. Fog or not, he knew every nook and cranny, particularly the nooks and crannies that made good hiding places. After he’d made all the possible detours he finally succumbed to the whipping rain and, dripping wet, stepped inside his home. The rickety shack did little to keep out the cold, but at least it shielded against the rain and he could warm himself by the fire.

“Timothy, is that you?” his mother sighed from the other room, the only other room.

Tim slouched towards the fire and undid his soaked boots. Heavenly tears pattered against the roof.

“Yes mother. It’s raining.”

“Oh darling, come here.” she said. Tim stumbled into his mother’s room and sat down on a wobbly stool beside her bed. Her skin had turned pale blue, her eyes red and swollen, and her hand cold to touch.

“Will you be alright, mother?”

She smiled faintly. “Of course I will. It’s just a fever.” She gripped his hand tightly and looked him up. “They work you far too hard. You shouldn’t be going tomorrow.”

“But I have to.” He didn’t want to go either, but if he didn’t, they’d have no food or water, they wouldn’t be able to pay the rent and he wouldn’t be able to buy his mother medicine.

She sighed again, a shiver went through her frame and Tim scooted closer. “Mother…”

“This is not what I meant for us, Timothy.” She trained her gaze on the wooden ceiling. “I always thought I’d live in a big house, just outside the city, we’d have a farm, and animals…”

“And a chandelier inside,” Tim smiled. “And big marble steps. And dad would live there too.”

For a moment, only the rain and the wind spoke, scourging the battered walls relentlessly, but the house stood fast.

“And your father too. . .” she succumbed. Hirem. She’d only brought him shame, he didn’t even know he had a child. He hadn’t come after her either. Every night she prayed to the gods he would return, but in her heart of hearts she knew he’d long forgotten her.
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Timothy Mered
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