PlaneShift
Fan Area => Roleplaying (Communitive Storywriting) => Single Author Stories => Topic started by: Irick on March 21, 2007, 09:34:43 am
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This is the Story of a child, a child of no specific race, just a child. his parents have not abandoned him, nor has he had any traumatic experiences. he is just a child.
one day this child woke up and looked out at the city. the azure sun was giving off a strange orange glow, "today is pretty" thought the boy "Pretty days are always the more interesting." He turned and walked by a desk, full of sketches and poems.
He walked by an oil lamp, flickering its flame and making the shadows on the wall dance. the boy extinguished the flame, seeing as it was morning. after passing the lamp he came to the door.
the door was locked.
"odd" thought the boy "i didn't lock my door." he turned around and passed the now cooling oil lamp. He came to a stop at his not dimly lit desk and began looking around for the key.
Around half way through his search he thought "you know, this would be easier with the lamp lit" so he opened the drawer in which he knew he kept his flints and grabbed one, not bothering to look inside. the boy walked over to the lamp and struck a match, lighting the lamp.
After shaking out the flame on the match the boy placed it on the top of the oil lamp and walked back to his desk to continue searching for the key. in the first drawer he opened, he found a bit of string. In the second, spare buttons, the third contained some candle wax and the forth held a dagger.
the key was in the flint drawer
"how silly of me" thought the boy, and he turned to walk to the door.
He passed the oil lamp and decided to keep it lit.
He walked to the door and inserted the key in the key hole.
He turned the key.
The flame went out.
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hmmm... I can't quite get my head around this one.