It's hard for me to tell if my own writing is any good because I can't detach myself from it, if that makes any sense. So I wanted to post it somewhere to see if I could get any feedback, even something simple like ‘I enjoyed this’ or ‘it needs improvement’ I don't know if I'll ever finish any story ever but I might as well find out if people like my writing cause I do enjoy writing some.
so if you want to read a short story/chapter (super short cause I need to make it longer) then enjoy
Ara had learned that port towns are busy marketplaces full of people from all over the world and different walks of life.
She’s seen wealthy merchants from every nation walking past the poorest of people that looked so miserable you might think that death would be mercy on them.
Maybe other places were different, but Ara has been stuck in Beure most of her life, what she saw here was all she knew.
And she’d never leave. Not with her debt.
She blamed the rich merchants of this land for these laws they caused.
She blamed the corrupt council for being bribed into letting such disastrous laws ruin the lives of Beure and the entire Manhelle Nation.
She blamed her family for taking the bait and moving here on the lie that they would be taken care of and leaving her with debt. The people on the streets, the families struggling to find food, the people like her living in debt so deep they would never be free again. They resented everyone else for everything.
The rich were happy though.
But there was always alcohol and close friends. Or, a friend in her case.
Enaia slammed down his mug sucking in a deep breath. Ara followed suit only second later.
“You’re never going to beat me akta. Remind me why you try?” He mocked.
“Because I’ve been getting closer and closer and you know that one day I will beat you. Akta.”
She repeated the pet name in the same mocking tone.
She hated her life. But her friend made it better.
“Okay I lost, I buy another round. I’ll be right back.”
She stood up, her chair screeching across the stone floor.
“Someone is walking our way.”
Ara turned her mood quickly going somber. She saw the figure walking her way, they where small, swamped in their cloak with the hood pulled over their face.
“what do you want?” she growled.
He looked up at her but his face was still hard to see, the tavern was too dark to make out his features.
“You speak Manhelleian, thank the gods. I understand Abni but I can't speak it well.” his voice was soft, and he had a strange accent. Living in the port she had heard many languages, many accents, strong and subtle. But this was different.
“Find someone else to take pity on you, I’m not looking to lead some brat around town.”
“Fine, can you at least give me directions.”
“No, I’m here to drink not to babysit, get lost.”
“Can you at least point me to someone who can help me.”
“You're in the wrong place, everyone here is too busy drinking their problems away, find someone else to help you.”
The next morning was hell.
The second round had turned into another round, and then another, and then someone came in and paid for a round for everyone in celebration. After that it was blurry, but whatever it was Ara’s already near-empty pockets where dry.
Despite the nagging headache, they were forced to work. They ate, they were sent to the docks and they spent the day lifting crates on and off of ships.
The sun beat down on them mercilessly, every man and woman there on the docks was sweating and silently praying for cloud cover that they could clearly see wasn’t coming.
The work was hard and it wasn’t uncommon for new workers to have to rest frequently throughout the day lest they risk passing out. But for those who had been at it as long as Ara and Enaia had been, you got through the day without rest, ignoring the aches that came with the night before and getting their work done fast.
As the sun started to make it's decent her crew finished their work and were sent off for the night. Most people would head to a tavern or even one of the brothels or gambling dens further off in the poorer districts of the city.
Having blown her months worth of savings last night, Enaia and Ara were heading straight back to their housings.
The sun was below the horizon but the time they were back on the main streets, but the city was still fairly busy. While the day was spent working themselves to the bone, the night was when everyone had their fun.
Shouting and loud noises weren't uncommon, but after all the years Ara had learned what was just people calling out to each other, and shouting that was out of the ordinary. So when the shouting from up the road didn't sound quite right she turned to see the crowd being pushed aside.
There, running like his life depended on it, was some kid with a large smile on his face. He came barreling down the road pushing past everyone and clutching a sack to his chest.
“Someone stop him!” a cry came from the crowd and she could make out two men following him at a slower pace.
The boy was obviously too fast for them, he knew how to make his way through a crowd and in seconds he was only a few feet in front of her.
They made eye contact and his smile grew wider, and then in seconds she was on the floor with him staring down at her, the sack tossed to the side in the fall.
“Meet me in the same tavern to return it and there’s some money in it for you.”
It was him, the same guy from last night, and he was grinning like a mad man. “See you in a bit.”
He quickly stood up again and started running. Sitting up surprised she brought the sack closer to her and watched the two men sprinting past.
Enaia reached a hand down to her helping her up. “You good?”
“Was that the same guy from last night?”
“Yeah, and he gave me a job.” she lifted the sack to show him. “I just need to show up at the tavern tonight and apparently I’ll get paid.”
“No, but I’m not turning down any pay, guess we're going back to the tavern tonight.”
She started to open the sack and pulled out a flat wooden object. A mask.
It was in the likeness of a snake, painted colorfully and carved expertly. Whoever made it was a skilled craftsman. There were two ivory fangs hanging from the lowest part of it like a venomous snake.
It had a strong rope made of different colored silky ribbons to tie it on and the inside was carved to fit comfortably against the face, or probably a specific face.
“This is worth a lot on its own, I’ve never seen something so pretty. Whoever that guy is he needs to offer a lot if he wants this back, the merchants would love this.”
“you’re buying drinks tonight.”
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