hung at the gallows. Some were sent to drown in the water beyond the shores, having never learned to swim. Far away, to the west, the heaping "land-fills" stood, where the crows feasted, and the peasants donned their tunics and sacks.
Frowning, his chin mounted on his fist, the High Lord stood up from his throne and dismissed his guards and servants, mounting the stairs to his right, leading up to his quarters. He would go and lay with his twenty wives, and eventually fall into sleep's hands. Stepping up the "stairs-that-were-not-there-yet-were"--made of the same substance as the "see-windows"--Mandala Splitskin came to his quarters--where awaited his wives.
***
The following day, the sun bright and high, Robald trekked west, toward what the Old Ones called a "town." Here, he resupplied his grains, beans, greens, and coffee--as well as meat, which was hard to come by in the desert. Leaving early, when the sun began to heave above the horizon, he packed his "pack-to-the-back" with rations, his "long shirt," and even the weapon that went Bang!--in case of an emergency. His carved, whittled walking stick at hand, he set out in the sun's early crimson light.
Now mounting a high ridge, he stopped momentarily, to look back at his home. This he always did when he set out for the "town" of Harper's Worth. After looking at his home for what would be the last time, he set his feet to it, and started to steal down the ridge side.
Three hours passed of uneventful walking. Scavengers lurked, cawing, above in the blue sky, circling him as he walked. As the hours drew on, the bags of sweat beneath his armpits began to grow darker and larger. Ever moving one foot in front of the other, dragging his stick along, Robald continued onward. Stopping twice to sip at his waterskin, the town of Harper's Worth drew closer. Luckily, by the noontime, when the sun was at its crowning, he would arrive--Before the scavengers set to it, he thought. Before they began to swarm and pick at me, despite me living.
With that thought in mind, as well as the encircling scavengers cawing above, he was dreary as he set forth again, after another water break.
***
Frowning, his chin mounted on his fist, the High Lord stood up from his throne and dismissed his guards and servants, mounting the stairs to his right, leading up to his quarters. He would go and lay with his twenty wives, and eventually fall into sleep's hands. Stepping up the "stairs-that-were-not-there-yet-were"--made of the same substance as the "see-windows"--Mandala Splitskin came to his quarters--where awaited his wives.
***
The following day, the sun bright and high, Robald trekked west, toward what the Old Ones called a "town." Here, he resupplied his grains, beans, greens, and coffee--as well as meat, which was hard to come by in the desert. Leaving early, when the sun began to heave above the horizon, he packed his "pack-to-the-back" with rations, his "long shirt," and even the weapon that went Bang!--in case of an emergency. His carved, whittled walking stick at hand, he set out in the sun's early crimson light.
Now mounting a high ridge, he stopped momentarily, to look back at his home. This he always did when he set out for the "town" of Harper's Worth. After looking at his home for what would be the last time, he set his feet to it, and started to steal down the ridge side.
Three hours passed of uneventful walking. Scavengers lurked, cawing, above in the blue sky, circling him as he walked. As the hours drew on, the bags of sweat beneath his armpits began to grow darker and larger. Ever moving one foot in front of the other, dragging his stick along, Robald continued onward. Stopping twice to sip at his waterskin, the town of Harper's Worth drew closer. Luckily, by the noontime, when the sun was at its crowning, he would arrive--Before the scavengers set to it, he thought. Before they began to swarm and pick at me, despite me living.
With that thought in mind, as well as the encircling scavengers cawing above, he was dreary as he set forth again, after another water break.
***
