I’m nuts
Stupid
First-class idiot
An imbecile by nature
Moron in real life
What more could you ask?
I’m a nuisance
Annoyance
A disgusting piece of dust
I’m despicable
I’m rusting and decaying
I’m nothing
I’m beyond space
Not a single atom comprise me
I’m on the void
Keep me close
I’m swaying away
Hold me…
I’ll be gone…
*seen in About me yesterday, July 4.
A free soul
The sound of the breeze refreshed my mind, as I spend my afternoon looking at the hell where I live. I wonder when I can get away from this place I call my home, or is it really?
I was born in Hannart, yet my father’s a Southener. I don’t exactly know how we ended up in this godforsaken place. The only thing I’m certain is that it’s nearly an impossibility to move back North.
North… the place never left my thoughts. I know I’ll go back there… I was born there; I will also die there — that I’m certain.
Border checks will now be more hostile and unimaginable, with the Earl Hadd murdered in the Festival. His second son Harchad will make sure people will toil. Harchad’s soldiers were everywhere… searching for the boy who planted the bomb under the Earl’s seat. People stopped dead on their tracks whenever they see them — knowing the violence they’re capable of.
I saw the boy. I knew him. He was a freedom fighter… I saw him run from the festival to the narrow streets. I saw everything that happened today… there was a great commotion in the streets, and the rituals of the Festival weren’t finished.
This could be a sign of a great bad luck coming to this Mark (earl’s territory).
I just wonder, if this current situation isn’t bad luck yet… what could bad luck be like? That I don’t know, nor do that freedom fighter boy knows.
He was Mitt, by the way. The boy…
*Mushying over "Drowned Amnet" by Diana Wynne Jones
