Eh...Fiction?

I ran across an email I had sent out a while ago (4 years) to a site that offered cooperative fiction writing. Although it was only an intro and ran but a few paragraphs, it was my first honest attempt into the fiction writing universe. The original mail was meant to be a story starter, but shortly after submitting it, the site went down and never came back. I took that as an omen and never bothered looking for another venue to pursue it. Yes, I know I could have not used that as a lame excuse to stop and just pursued the story for myself - I didn't. Anyway, I came across it by accident in my 'Sent' folder and thought I would post it up here.

Yes, I know it sucks but I ain't making you read it. Remember all those buttons at the top of your browser that can take you to your 'Happy Place' if you don't want to stay.

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No visions of epic struggles nor battlefields of glory danced in my eyes as I approached that fabled city. I came because I must. I tread the path of duty, every step bringing me closer to the gallows, the end of my morality. He knew this would end me. He knew he placed the blade against my throat and knew I would not, could not, withdraw.

With the last of his strength, he had given voice to my demise, “Will you do this for me, my son? Will you go to the Stone Hall and give yourself into its service, for the time required? You must, for the hope of your salvation, you must see that you are wrong.”

I could not have held as much love, nor burned with as much hate, as I did the moment that question came. There was a duality in him; I saw it line his features and burn in his eyes. They held triumph and sadness in such a coupling that it seemed he would give cry of victory and a wail of mourning in the same mighty breath. I had only nodded acceptance. It would be so. He had won. He had lost.

As I watched the light begin to fade from his eyes, I stood and turned from him. I would remember his fire and not its diminishing. I felt that all of Shar should grieve, for it had just lost a noble. A noble, not in status, but a man of honor that the men of those Great Houses frequently boasted of, but never held in their slippery grasp. He was a Shari soldier, he was a father, and he had set my feet on a path that both I dare not tread upon and dare not stray. So it was that my father passed into the Embrace, taking a piece of my soul for companionship.

And so it is, that I go to the place I most hate and least understand. Duty demands it. But, I will find the answers that none of my kin could give. I will know the truth behind the meddling. I will know the reasons why lives are so easily used up and tossed aside in the name of ‘Peace’. I will have these answers and I will serve.

Duty is the price demanded and honor the currency accepted. For the sake of him, for the sake of me, I dare not be found lacking.