The Furry Forums
Creative Arts and Media => Creative Writing => Topic started by: Dr. Strange on December 26, 2008, 01:13:30 AM
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Myra lay curled into a ball on a stool in Dragon Tavern, hiding from her master, a pig of a man by the name of Grapper-Greed. She despised the wretched cur; he'd destroyed everything she'd built since that day so long ago. That day when she'd been left on a cold, brick surface near Christmas. It would be two years tonight. Christmas Eve was a horrible time of year for her-- when the other kids got to play outside or convinced Cook to give them pies, Myra had to work until her master was satisfied. Sometimes he would work her through the night and well into the next day.
Only allowed a few hours of sleep, Myra was always falling asleep while she helped Cook in the kitchen or Darren in the stables. They felt sorry for her, even Harlan, sour and detached. She did everything Grapper-Greed asked/ordered of her without complaint or gripe. Far faster a learner than others her age, Myra knew enough about her master to keep him away from her for the rest of their lives-- but she didn't tell a soul. And the things he confided in her in his drunken state, she kept inside her when the weight of the words he said would have killed a lesser man.
Myra could kill the lout if the need arose but he kept her out of the streets. He was not a cruel master in the way one thinks; he fed and clothed her, gave her shelter, and trained her to take care of another person, someone different than her. Myra was glad of the teaching. The other servants that were permitted to talk to her more than order-wise kept their mouths shut about her hollowness in which she spoke.
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You have me, yet again, intruiged. Sounds good ^^
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Thanks. ~~
Another day and the nastiness Grapper possessed would leave. Myra hoped against hope for him to become who he used to be. The thought of his condition worsening made her sick. Escaping the room, she ran into the servant girl, Mia. "Leave it in my bedroom. Tell no one it's there. Especially not Master." When the servant nodded, Myra continued down the two flights of stairs to the heavy oak door. Slamming it open, she raced outside, breathless for a moment from the cold. Her breath catching up, she trotted down Three Horse Ave. and slipped into Drake's Forge.
The forge was where Vasco and Taaran spent most of the afternoons. If they weren't tossing pebbles at the wagons coming down the the street, that is. She found them good company, even though Vasco liked to drink too much, enough for the three of them together.
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Hmm, interesting. I can't wait for more! ^.^
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Thanks. I'm glad you enjoy it. Thoguh dfor now I have to postpone an update, can't think of anything...
Curse this writer's block. THey always come at the worst times... >.>
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When she found them, she sat beside Taran, listening to Vasco tell yet another story as he worked. Taran put an arm around her waist, a protective boy of about sixteen. He was only a year older than Myra then. As they listened, he put his head on hers, sighing. Myra could feel him relax more, the story getting to the good part. Vasco's voice rippled with the telling, rising and falling in a spooky rhythm soothing to the two. Myra was Taran's world and she hardly knew it.