His worn out car let off a slight bang from the exhaust, trundling as proudly as possible over the battered tarmac amidst the dust flying around the air. The nearest stop was thankfully only a matter of minutes away, bringing a smile to the driver's face in this knowledge.
"Not far to go now," he tapped the steering wheel under his fingertips, chewing on a stale piece of chewing gum between his front teeth in frustration, "Gyhn should be just up ahead. See? I told you there was nothing to worry about."
Looking briefly at his companion sat in the passenger seat, Jolark turned the wheel to make a left onto an even more tired road and exhaled through his nose loudly. His passenger looked over the top of the door as this rusted old car had no windows, no windshield, not even a roof! Sneezing as some dust made its way into the interior which was easily done, Ulo looked at the driver and a man he could call his friend. Jolark looked back at him.
"See over that way," the dark-haired man nodded to the right as he returned his vision to the world outside of the car, "there's the spire of the church... or at least, what's left of it."
Ulo followed the direction, his black eyes seeing nothing but dust which made him sneeze again.
1 - GYHN – Sascha
He looked out of between his fingers as the darkness was more comforting now. No light to remind him or to hide behind things and create shadows to torment him. No rays of sunshine to show him how happiness looks, to brighten up the world and make everything all right again. No people to bother him, no well-wishers and troublesome busy bodies that want to fix you. No children... oh, that's right. Sliding his hands off his face and resting them on his knees as he sat on his bed, Sascha opened his eyes slowly and allowed them to make a direct course to that photograph on his bedside table. His eyelids narrowed and his expression changed softly into one of remorse as he looked upon her face again. That night came flying back into his mind as it did every day he woke up and saw her eyes smiling at him from behind the cracked glass. Pushing himself up to his already exhausted feet, Sascha stretched with his arms high over his head so his fingers traced the outline of where the overhead fan used to be. It was now lying in a crumpled mess somewhere in the darkest corner of the room. The noise had driven him to it; continuous clattering reminding him of that noise those metallic beasts made as they carried those brave and yet stupid young men to their deaths. He had been one of those young men, his body now carrying the constant reminder of being in the depths of Hell that is a battle with an overpowering force that destroyed everything in its path. They had promised a short fight and a victory of defending their homeland. They had promised fulfilment of your soul in knowing you had done your best for your country. They had promised all so many wondrous offerings but they had lied. They were now all in the next world with those empty promises. The kryken saw to that, swooping in and destroying Gyhn with one ball of fire from its molten jaws. Nobody saw it coming and hardly anyone saw it leave in the black smoke of destruction.
Fighting off the memory haunting him again, Sascha relaxed his arms and made his way to the bathroom to wash his face. Calling it a bathroom was a joke as only the sink had survived the destruction when the roof caved in. Where the toilet once was, was now a hole in the ground but Sascha was trying to fix up the mess as best he could or when the mood arose which it seldom did. Because his home was on the edge of a cliff, when the blast from the kryken hit the town with powerful force, a lot of smaller buildings were blown aside and knocked other houses down. A large piece of timber from the Old Inn had been thrown into the masonry of the small cottage, splitting the bricks apart in an instant and pummeling through to smash the wall overlooking the ravine. It was not alone and swiftly afterwards, clouds of bricks, large metal hinges, slates and all sorts of building materials hammered the cottage until the roof had nothing to support it and fell. Sadly the cottage was not the only fatality that day...
Exiting the crumbled remains of his home, Sascha pulled his jacket up round his neck as a cold wind hit him from the south. Never a bad omen in the local gypsy circles but not necessarily a good one either. Quickening his steps, the tired man walked as briskly as his feet would carry him over to the run down mill. Nobody had any money to pay anybody for work that needed done on Gyhn to restore it and with limited workers, it was a losing battle. Another one.
"Hey, Wynd!"
Sascha stopped and turned to a now familiar bearded face. He'd never known this man before that day everything went cold but now, he was becoming overly familiar with him.
"Veert."
Standing opposite the younger man, obviously feeling the cold; Veert chuckled and rubbed his hands together, commenting quickly on the temperature outside. When all he received was a shrug, Veert nodded and tried a different approach to get him talking. For once.
"Say listen, I was thinking that maybe after work we could go to the Well."
The Well. What the Old Inn had become that day everything changed for the worse, it was now another big hole in the ground, much like every building in town. The remaining locals, and that was scarcely anybody, liked to meet up at the Well for after work drinks and chat. It wasn't really Sascha's scene, he never liked talking and even less now after all that had happened. The only person that ever understood him was dead.
"You listening?" Sascha blinked and realised his mind had taken him away to his past again. He nodded and watched this cheerful man's expression of concern disappear instantly. "So you'll be there?" Veert grinned knowing fine well Sascha hadn't heard a word he'd just said but didn't mind either if it meant he could try and get him to open up or at the very least, meet for a drink after work. "Great. See you at the Well later."
Sascha didn't watch him leave even though he was in no mood for merriment later or on the foreseeable horizon but was also not wanting to continue a forced conversation. Rolling his eyes and sighing deeply, Sascha pushed the door to the mill's lower levels open and got to work.
Comments (0)
See all