A Debt Paid In Death: The Story of Sosay Kaizer
Sept 9, 2013 21:03:56 GMT
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Post by Sosay Kaizer on Sept 9, 2013 21:03:56 GMT
"Men should be either treated generously or destroyed, because they take revenge for slight injuries
- for heavy ones they cannot."
- Niccolo Machiavelli
There was a chill wind in the air as the sun began to rise in the murky sky over a local fishing village not too far west from the city known as Calis. Men were beginning to rise from there hunts to collect the catch of trout for the day. Women would awake with them to begin their daily routine of chores and taking care of the children of the village. A restful pace blanketed the land as it did each day, for nothing of real interested seemed to be happening which had mostly been the case for many years prior.
Within the village, a slender man with a darkened face covered in very long unkempt hair and robes far too extravagant to be own by a local of the village strode towards the home of the village elder with a sharp gaze that would show staunch determination to the untrained eye, and a slight look of sadness and pain to those who knew to look for it. As the man continued his walk closer to the door some of the local villagers began to take notice of the "fancy" man. They were not accustomed to seeing such foreigners and were awestruck by such a man's trappings. Following his trudging up the stairs to the porch of the Elder's hut, the man slapped the palm of his hand on the door.
"BAM!"
He heard nothing and tried again.
"BAM!"
Still nothing; before he slammed his palm against the door a third time, a grey haired venerable man dragged open the door with a single hand. "HEY WHO'S TRYIN' TA..." he paused when he saw the face of the man who knocked at his door.
"Oh, it's you... And here I was hoping that I wasn't gonna live long enough to see this day. So, you've come to know the truth then, haven't cha boy?"
"Yes."
The elderly man pulled the door open and gestured for him to come in saying, "Well then, whatcha waitin' for? Come on in."
As the both walked into the house, the familiar smell of seawater strangely only managed to get stronger inside the old man's house. The interior remained just as decrepit if not more so to the foreigner as when he first came into the large shack as boy.
"So, why come to me then? Hadn't Awade told you what happened by now?" hearing that name, the foreigner held his head down and shut his eyes as a grim expression covered his face.
"I'm very sorry..." the old man whispered in a grave tone.
Slowly moving his head back up, the foreigner locked his gaze on the old man's eyes with a look that practically gave away not only his emotions, but what he intended to do with them and said,
"I want to know who killed her."
"You're goin' down a dark path boy, if ya don't st-"
"I WANT TO KNOW WHO KILLED HER!" the foreigner shrieked with a cry that pierced through the dilapidated walls of the dimly lit shack.
The old man sighed as he close his eyes to think of what he planned to say next. He never wanted to relive that day again. Even in his mind, that's day events had encompassed a black area of misery that even he had difficulty stomaching, but he knew the foreigner would not stop until he received the truth, even if he had to burn the whole village down to get it, the old man knew the foreigner would be ready to do it instantly. After a pause that felt like ages had passed, the old man open his eyes, inhale a large gulp of sea air, and began to talk...
- for heavy ones they cannot."
- Niccolo Machiavelli
There was a chill wind in the air as the sun began to rise in the murky sky over a local fishing village not too far west from the city known as Calis. Men were beginning to rise from there hunts to collect the catch of trout for the day. Women would awake with them to begin their daily routine of chores and taking care of the children of the village. A restful pace blanketed the land as it did each day, for nothing of real interested seemed to be happening which had mostly been the case for many years prior.
Within the village, a slender man with a darkened face covered in very long unkempt hair and robes far too extravagant to be own by a local of the village strode towards the home of the village elder with a sharp gaze that would show staunch determination to the untrained eye, and a slight look of sadness and pain to those who knew to look for it. As the man continued his walk closer to the door some of the local villagers began to take notice of the "fancy" man. They were not accustomed to seeing such foreigners and were awestruck by such a man's trappings. Following his trudging up the stairs to the porch of the Elder's hut, the man slapped the palm of his hand on the door.
"BAM!"
He heard nothing and tried again.
"BAM!"
Still nothing; before he slammed his palm against the door a third time, a grey haired venerable man dragged open the door with a single hand. "HEY WHO'S TRYIN' TA..." he paused when he saw the face of the man who knocked at his door.
"Oh, it's you... And here I was hoping that I wasn't gonna live long enough to see this day. So, you've come to know the truth then, haven't cha boy?"
"Yes."
The elderly man pulled the door open and gestured for him to come in saying, "Well then, whatcha waitin' for? Come on in."
As the both walked into the house, the familiar smell of seawater strangely only managed to get stronger inside the old man's house. The interior remained just as decrepit if not more so to the foreigner as when he first came into the large shack as boy.
"So, why come to me then? Hadn't Awade told you what happened by now?" hearing that name, the foreigner held his head down and shut his eyes as a grim expression covered his face.
"I'm very sorry..." the old man whispered in a grave tone.
Slowly moving his head back up, the foreigner locked his gaze on the old man's eyes with a look that practically gave away not only his emotions, but what he intended to do with them and said,
"I want to know who killed her."
"You're goin' down a dark path boy, if ya don't st-"
"I WANT TO KNOW WHO KILLED HER!" the foreigner shrieked with a cry that pierced through the dilapidated walls of the dimly lit shack.
The old man sighed as he close his eyes to think of what he planned to say next. He never wanted to relive that day again. Even in his mind, that's day events had encompassed a black area of misery that even he had difficulty stomaching, but he knew the foreigner would not stop until he received the truth, even if he had to burn the whole village down to get it, the old man knew the foreigner would be ready to do it instantly. After a pause that felt like ages had passed, the old man open his eyes, inhale a large gulp of sea air, and began to talk...