Demon of the Blue
Setting: Port of Glasgow, UK, 1702.
The winter's white flurries across the land, as the smoke and ash from chimneys fill the skies of Glasgow. I wake up alone outside a tavern. It is so cold, so dark, so silent. Everyone is at home, while I live outside the Tavern. Life had never treated a soul so damning I thought to myself. To live without a home, and to only have the scraps of clothing left to keep me alive. I breathe into my blistered hands in order to retain heat. The frost continues to forever invade my mustache and beard. There is no stopping this eternal pain.
Nearby an elderly man spots me outside the window of his Inn. He slowly makes his way to me. Freezing, he begs for me to enter the Inn. I reluctantly enter. He has his maid prepare a broth for me, in which I push aside his silverware and hastily drink down. He was a retired colonel with a wealth and status beyond one I could ever envision. He told his stories of the English Civil War. How he had lost his family, but had garnered estate for his loyalty to the Parliamentarians. How he had saved the lives of plenty. A good man indeed; never have I met such a kind soul to take a homeless man into his estate and treat him like a human. After the dining, he was drowsy and could no longer talk; he went to sleep. He mumbled at his maid to prepare a bed for me to lay down in for the night. She had done so and left.
I view the decorations of the man's home, and finds the most elegant of silver and gold. I made a sack with the bed sheets, and ever so silently stacked his precious metals into the sack. I silently left the Inn with the bag of silver and gold....
A short introductory to a possible story. Maybe if I get enough feedback, I will continue.
The winter's white flurries across the land, as the smoke and ash from chimneys fill the skies of Glasgow. I wake up alone outside a tavern. It is so cold, so dark, so silent. Everyone is at home, while I live outside the Tavern. Life had never treated a soul so damning I thought to myself. To live without a home, and to only have the scraps of clothing left to keep me alive. I breathe into my blistered hands in order to retain heat. The frost continues to forever invade my mustache and beard. There is no stopping this eternal pain.
Nearby an elderly man spots me outside the window of his Inn. He slowly makes his way to me. Freezing, he begs for me to enter the Inn. I reluctantly enter. He has his maid prepare a broth for me, in which I push aside his silverware and hastily drink down. He was a retired colonel with a wealth and status beyond one I could ever envision. He told his stories of the English Civil War. How he had lost his family, but had garnered estate for his loyalty to the Parliamentarians. How he had saved the lives of plenty. A good man indeed; never have I met such a kind soul to take a homeless man into his estate and treat him like a human. After the dining, he was drowsy and could no longer talk; he went to sleep. He mumbled at his maid to prepare a bed for me to lay down in for the night. She had done so and left.
I view the decorations of the man's home, and finds the most elegant of silver and gold. I made a sack with the bed sheets, and ever so silently stacked his precious metals into the sack. I silently left the Inn with the bag of silver and gold....
A short introductory to a possible story. Maybe if I get enough feedback, I will continue.
