Vatis wandered through a field of carrots, kicking dirt into the air as he dragged his feet between the neatly planted rows. The sun rose over the eastern horizon. Small, jagged shadows swayed back and forth with the cool morning breeze. Leafy carrot tops created fairy-like shadows. Vatis imagined small creatures diligently working to help the vegetables grow. The self-created distraction temporarily soothed his never-resting mind.
Images of Vidmar's massacre two days prior still plagued him whenever he closed his eyes. His mind wandered like his feet, dragging through the dirty memories until he returned to the Raue Tavern, an entire inn captivated by his stories, each member of the audience waiting with bated breath for the conclusion. He pictured that simple tavern and the carefree folk of Basswood, and his thoughts, as they often did, created poetry. He sat in the dirt, pulled out his journal, and wrote.
A single lantern sways outside the Tavern To locals, it's relief of pain for soldiers, it's free rein A simple lantern shines outside the Tavern Lustful whispers from a jar
Vatis bit the end of his quill. What's next? Gluttonous patrons from afar? Ah, that's no good. The pacing is all wrong.
"What are you writing?" an innocent yet curious voice asked. Vatis jumped. "Sorry. I didn't mean to sneak up on you," Taldor finished, coming into view over Vatis's shoulder. Damnit, boy.
Vatis forced a laugh as he tried to compose himself. "It's fine," he said, breathing deeply.
"Don't mind me," Taldor said as he pulled carrots from the ground. "Are you writing a story?"
Vatis put his writing supplies away. "A poem, actually."
"Can I hear it?"
"No," Vatis answered in a colder-than-intended tone. "Sometimes it's better not to know," Vatis finished trying to sound empathetic while picking a caterpillar off a leaf.
"I don't know about that," Taldor said. "I can't stand it when I don't know something. Pa says I'm too curious."
Vatis further examined the tiny greenish insect on his fingers. "I used to be the same," he paused. "So curious, so inquisitive, but when story after story and question after question yields terrifying results, you begin to think of the world differently." The caterpillar crawled between Vatis's thumb and forefinger. Vatis gently stroked the thin white hairs of the squirming creature. "There are very few happy endings, Taldor," he added as he squished the insect, green liquid dripping down the length of his thumb.
Vatis brushed the remaining bits of the insect off his hand. He heard the boy dropping carrots into his basket but nothing else until Taldor spoke. "Do you know any happy endings?" he said after a long silence.
"Huh," Vatis said as if he snapped out of a trance. He thought for a moment. What is a happy ending? All the stories end the same. "Perhaps Mia-The-Maiden or Dinardo. They both disappeared and, by all accounts, were generally happy."
"Who's Dinardo?" Taldor asked, his voice cracking.
Vatis didn't answer. He cleaned his thumb on his pant leg.
"Are you alright, Vatis?"
"Hmm," Vatis said, staring vacantly at the dirt.
"Are you alright?" Taldor repeated.
"What? Yes, I'm fine," Vatis answered after another long silence. "I apologize, Taldor. I didn't sleep last night; too many thoughts ran around my head. It certainly doesn't help that Vidmar snored like an ox." His practiced, cheery disposition returned slowly like a carrot emerging from the ground. "I'm sorry, Taldor. I meant no offense."
YOU ARE READING
Tales & Treasure
FantasyA disgraced bard emerges from years of isolation, vowing to find the story that will restore his name and bring him the recognition that he desperately craves.
