She was lying on the cold, stone floor when they entered. the room was small and dusty, lit up only by a single torch which produced a weak, flickering light. They could barely see her in one of the dark corners. She wore nothing but rags. Her shirt and leggings were made of itching cloth and were much too big and had been ripped in several places.
" 'tis yo'r lucky day miss, y'have a visitor!"
The man speaking was of average length, but still gave an impression being taller than most men. He was very thin and had a pale face which revealed the sharp edges of his jawbone. He looked like he hadn't eaten for weeks, and had just recovered from a serious illness. In fact, most people would hope he would fall victim to the plague which had been spreading world-wide, but they would never even think of muttering such things in the darkness of their own houses. In case they would be overheard. For this man was the dungeon keeper, and he was the only owner of the keys to every cell and every room in the massive, dark fort which rose high above any other houses in the town; except for the king, but no one had seen him for months, maybe even years. He was a cruel man who felt compassion or empathy for no living creature. His purpose in life was to torment others as much and cruelly as he could. He sought pleasure in inflicting pain upon others.
" 'idnt you 'ear me? i said you got a bloody visitor, look lively now!
Still, the girl showed no sign of noticing his presence.
"C'mon you servant of Sins, you blasted witch!"
The girl, who was not more than 17 years of age, stood up. Her back was covered in bruises and cuts, for she had been whipped repeatedly for many weeks now. And if the injuries inflicted her great pain, she did not show it. She stood up and looked the dungeon keeper straight in his eyes, without any sign of fear or pain. Only hatred could be seen in her eyes.
" 'ats it. now follo' me, and don't get'ny ideas, you 'ear me?"
The girl nodded and they started their walk through the fort. She had been accused of witchery, one of the town women had claimed that her youngest son had seen her turn a fallen tree into a cow, and milked it. Of course this was all very stupid, but old women were considered wise and witchery the art of the Devil. The town council thought that is was for the best to get rid of her, just to be sure in case she was a witch. So they sent her up to the fort, where the dungeon keeper had met her with his whip already in hand. She had no living relatives, so she had no hope of being helped, there was no one to prove her innocence or pledge her case to the elders. She was alone, alone in the never ending darkness..
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I'm too tired to keep writing tonight, can barely think anymore. even less spell. i'll keep writing when i got more ideas and im relaxed enough to sit down and think about it..
" 'tis yo'r lucky day miss, y'have a visitor!"
The man speaking was of average length, but still gave an impression being taller than most men. He was very thin and had a pale face which revealed the sharp edges of his jawbone. He looked like he hadn't eaten for weeks, and had just recovered from a serious illness. In fact, most people would hope he would fall victim to the plague which had been spreading world-wide, but they would never even think of muttering such things in the darkness of their own houses. In case they would be overheard. For this man was the dungeon keeper, and he was the only owner of the keys to every cell and every room in the massive, dark fort which rose high above any other houses in the town; except for the king, but no one had seen him for months, maybe even years. He was a cruel man who felt compassion or empathy for no living creature. His purpose in life was to torment others as much and cruelly as he could. He sought pleasure in inflicting pain upon others.
" 'idnt you 'ear me? i said you got a bloody visitor, look lively now!
Still, the girl showed no sign of noticing his presence.
"C'mon you servant of Sins, you blasted witch!"
The girl, who was not more than 17 years of age, stood up. Her back was covered in bruises and cuts, for she had been whipped repeatedly for many weeks now. And if the injuries inflicted her great pain, she did not show it. She stood up and looked the dungeon keeper straight in his eyes, without any sign of fear or pain. Only hatred could be seen in her eyes.
" 'ats it. now follo' me, and don't get'ny ideas, you 'ear me?"
The girl nodded and they started their walk through the fort. She had been accused of witchery, one of the town women had claimed that her youngest son had seen her turn a fallen tree into a cow, and milked it. Of course this was all very stupid, but old women were considered wise and witchery the art of the Devil. The town council thought that is was for the best to get rid of her, just to be sure in case she was a witch. So they sent her up to the fort, where the dungeon keeper had met her with his whip already in hand. She had no living relatives, so she had no hope of being helped, there was no one to prove her innocence or pledge her case to the elders. She was alone, alone in the never ending darkness..
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I'm too tired to keep writing tonight, can barely think anymore. even less spell. i'll keep writing when i got more ideas and im relaxed enough to sit down and think about it..
