by DaBowlOfSoup Wed Oct 05, 2016 6:44 pmTaken Away
The forest around the house was dark even the house itself was not bright and not a sound could be heard. Art stared at the house, now destroyed and seemingly empty. It had been days since the attack but he wanted to come back to see if any of his family was still around “Hello….mom….dad…is anyone here..?” he called out multiple times into the air, the only response he received was the eerie sound of the wind rushing by his ears. Slowly he made his way towards the house, fearful of what might be inside he hesitated when he reached the door.
Art had already seen his brothers death..it was a gruesome one, he didn’t want to see any of his other family members like that. Art took a shaky breath as he placed his hand on the doorknob but he hesitated, his mind was telling him to move but his body did not want to cooperate, he heaved a sigh his hands now sweaty he went to turn the doorknob and push the door open slowly. It was dark inside the house and not much could be seen from first glance in, one would have to go in further to see anything clearly.
His face twisted in disgust as he moved a hand up to cover his nose, a horrible smell filled the air it was worse than that of rotten eggs and dead skunk combined. Worried to advance any further he paused, he knew what inside was not going to be pretty and he doubted that any of his family was still alive but if they were they would be no where near this foul smelling place that he once called home. Again he stopped, this time in the doorway his whole body began to shake and fear took control. He stepped back from the doorway and turned around, wanting to walk away into the dark unwelcoming forest. “No…” he told himself “I must keep going….” he turned back and made his way for the door again, still shaking like mad.
As he advanced further he found the source of the smell or at least one of the sources, his father’s deceased corpse lay on the floor in front of him, he put a hand up to his mouth and jerked as the first wave of tears fell down his cheeks, a dried pool of red surrounded his father and his face was horribly disfigured. A few feet away Art saw his father’s sword, it was an old sword but his father had always insisted on using it since it was the first one he ever received. “One day I’ll teach you to use it Arty, maybe you will even be a better than your old man.” tears trickle down Arts face as he remembers the words of his father and his kind smile, his mother never like the idea of him learning how to fight but his father thought it important so she didn’t argue much. Art made his made his way over to the sword and picked it up with a bit of struggle, it of course being still too big for him. Inwardly he felt fear, he had never held a sword before..but he had to act brave, being scared would get him nowhere in this circumstance. Holding the sword unsteadily in his hands his made his way upstairs looking around the house for his mother. He set the sword against the wall outside of his parents bedroom before wiping his face of any stray tears and going to open the bedroom door.
Upon entry there would be red everywhere, it covered the floor, the walls, and the bed. The source of the red was soon found lying on the bed. Arts face turned a pale white as he saw his mother dismembered on the bed in front of him. Art fell to his knees screaming and pounding his fists into the floor, new tears rushing down his face to take the place of the old ones. All he had in life he just lost, the family that was so dear to him, his mother, father, brother. He looked around the room, remembering all the times he had run in here to seek comfort from his mother after he had a nightmare. Slowly he rose to his feet and climbed onto the bed, he buried his face in his mother's shirt and sobbed heavily. The dried blood felt rough against his face and the smell was awful but he was so grief stricken that none of it mattered. There was a sound from downstairs, then some light shuffling and a few grunting noises, the footsteps would appear to be getting closer.
“Did you hear that? I think someone's in here.” Art jerked his head and rushed to get his father's sword at the sound of the man's voice, rage filled every part of his body causing his judgement to be blinded. It didn’t matter if he was just a kid if these people had anything to do with the orcs that killed his family he would slay them. “I’ll go check upstairs, maybe thats where the sound came from” said one of the men as he slowly made his way up the steps. Outside of the room was a hallway, family portraits lined the wall but some had fallen to the floor and broken during the attack. It was dark and if your eyes hadn’t adjusted you wouldn’t be able to see much around you. Art stood at the end of the hallway waiting for the man to round the corner into the hallway, he would have been able to see better then the man since his eyes had adjusted to the darkness of the hallway.
Once the man rounded the corner into the hallway art rushed towards him, sword pointed outwards. The man, caught of guard was impaled by the sword. Art grabbed the sword stuck in the man's body and started to pull it out of the man, he began to feel light headed, his hands started to shake as he turned to the side throwing up on the floor below him. Art reached up to wipe his mouth of any excess vomit, his face was still pale and now and overwhelming feeling of guilt came over him. The house was now silent which was odd since another man had been heard. As he straightened himself out a man grabbed him from behind and tossed him into the wall. Arts heart started beating a mile a minute when this happened, as he tried to push himself up the hilt of a blade came down to meet the side of his head, knocking him unconscious. While his vision started to fade one question raced through his mind Will i ever be...free again?.
The forest around the house was dark even the house itself was not bright and not a sound could be heard. Art stared at the house, now destroyed and seemingly empty. It had been days since the attack but he wanted to come back to see if any of his family was still around “Hello….mom….dad…is anyone here..?” he called out multiple times into the air, the only response he received was the eerie sound of the wind rushing by his ears. Slowly he made his way towards the house, fearful of what might be inside he hesitated when he reached the door.
Art had already seen his brothers death..it was a gruesome one, he didn’t want to see any of his other family members like that. Art took a shaky breath as he placed his hand on the doorknob but he hesitated, his mind was telling him to move but his body did not want to cooperate, he heaved a sigh his hands now sweaty he went to turn the doorknob and push the door open slowly. It was dark inside the house and not much could be seen from first glance in, one would have to go in further to see anything clearly.
His face twisted in disgust as he moved a hand up to cover his nose, a horrible smell filled the air it was worse than that of rotten eggs and dead skunk combined. Worried to advance any further he paused, he knew what inside was not going to be pretty and he doubted that any of his family was still alive but if they were they would be no where near this foul smelling place that he once called home. Again he stopped, this time in the doorway his whole body began to shake and fear took control. He stepped back from the doorway and turned around, wanting to walk away into the dark unwelcoming forest. “No…” he told himself “I must keep going….” he turned back and made his way for the door again, still shaking like mad.
As he advanced further he found the source of the smell or at least one of the sources, his father’s deceased corpse lay on the floor in front of him, he put a hand up to his mouth and jerked as the first wave of tears fell down his cheeks, a dried pool of red surrounded his father and his face was horribly disfigured. A few feet away Art saw his father’s sword, it was an old sword but his father had always insisted on using it since it was the first one he ever received. “One day I’ll teach you to use it Arty, maybe you will even be a better than your old man.” tears trickle down Arts face as he remembers the words of his father and his kind smile, his mother never like the idea of him learning how to fight but his father thought it important so she didn’t argue much. Art made his made his way over to the sword and picked it up with a bit of struggle, it of course being still too big for him. Inwardly he felt fear, he had never held a sword before..but he had to act brave, being scared would get him nowhere in this circumstance. Holding the sword unsteadily in his hands his made his way upstairs looking around the house for his mother. He set the sword against the wall outside of his parents bedroom before wiping his face of any stray tears and going to open the bedroom door.
Upon entry there would be red everywhere, it covered the floor, the walls, and the bed. The source of the red was soon found lying on the bed. Arts face turned a pale white as he saw his mother dismembered on the bed in front of him. Art fell to his knees screaming and pounding his fists into the floor, new tears rushing down his face to take the place of the old ones. All he had in life he just lost, the family that was so dear to him, his mother, father, brother. He looked around the room, remembering all the times he had run in here to seek comfort from his mother after he had a nightmare. Slowly he rose to his feet and climbed onto the bed, he buried his face in his mother's shirt and sobbed heavily. The dried blood felt rough against his face and the smell was awful but he was so grief stricken that none of it mattered. There was a sound from downstairs, then some light shuffling and a few grunting noises, the footsteps would appear to be getting closer.
“Did you hear that? I think someone's in here.” Art jerked his head and rushed to get his father's sword at the sound of the man's voice, rage filled every part of his body causing his judgement to be blinded. It didn’t matter if he was just a kid if these people had anything to do with the orcs that killed his family he would slay them. “I’ll go check upstairs, maybe thats where the sound came from” said one of the men as he slowly made his way up the steps. Outside of the room was a hallway, family portraits lined the wall but some had fallen to the floor and broken during the attack. It was dark and if your eyes hadn’t adjusted you wouldn’t be able to see much around you. Art stood at the end of the hallway waiting for the man to round the corner into the hallway, he would have been able to see better then the man since his eyes had adjusted to the darkness of the hallway.
Once the man rounded the corner into the hallway art rushed towards him, sword pointed outwards. The man, caught of guard was impaled by the sword. Art grabbed the sword stuck in the man's body and started to pull it out of the man, he began to feel light headed, his hands started to shake as he turned to the side throwing up on the floor below him. Art reached up to wipe his mouth of any excess vomit, his face was still pale and now and overwhelming feeling of guilt came over him. The house was now silent which was odd since another man had been heard. As he straightened himself out a man grabbed him from behind and tossed him into the wall. Arts heart started beating a mile a minute when this happened, as he tried to push himself up the hilt of a blade came down to meet the side of his head, knocking him unconscious. While his vision started to fade one question raced through his mind Will i ever be...free again?.
