The Village of Stone

[foxer_XXX 135]

The Village of Stone

 

Simon woke up to the smell of fish - something he was quite accustomed to now. He turned in his bed and looked outside from his window, to see the time of day. From the position of the sun, it seemed to be just past dawn. He turned and looked into his room. His room was a little small compared to the standard house in his village, but he knew that was because he didn’t earn too much money. Not many fishermen did. His bed was in the corner farthest from the door, and there was a desk to the right of the doorway, which was in the corner opposite his bed.

The desk was very old, something he inherited from his grandmother, along with the little stool that came with it. He smiled at the thought of his grandmother. His grandmother was a very peculiar woman, always busy with knitting and sowing, regardless of all the complaints of the family saying it didn’t pay the taxes. Her reply was seldom angry, as she was a very calm woman - but he couldn’t remember her exact words, as it was a long time ago and he would rarely mess himself up in grownup affairs at the time. Besides, all his family had died long ago - except his brother.

Besides the desk, there was a bookshelf at the foot of his bed, although he thought it was quite useless - he could not afford any books, as they were precious here. The shelf just stood there, and the only thing it held was all the dust that fell upon it. Beyond the door, there was a narrow hallway that led to the stairs, with two doors on either side of it. One led to the bathroom, the other led to another bedroom, which belonged to his brother - Isiah.

Simon got up and went to the bathroom. As he did, he welcomed the high pitched creaking of the floor. He walked out of his room, into the hallway and turned into the bathroom. The bathroom was even smaller than his room, and there wasn’t even a shower or bathtub. Their family couldn’t afford that luxury. Besides the lack of a bathtub, the bathroom contained a sink with a mirror above it and a little cabinet that contained all their toiletries. The toilet was no modern toilet, just a pot in which people's privacies were performed. Many people would even laugh at the idea of a specific room for it, most would just keep it by their bed.

Simon washed his face, slicked back his hair, and performed all the other tasks in there he was accustomed to. After he was done, he looked in the mirror. Simon was a tall man, and very sleek. His hair and eyes were both a dark brown, so he would often choose clothing that matched his complexion. He didn’t have much of a choice, either way. His hair was usually short, and he was clean-shaven. He didn’t like the idea of beards at young ages, especially for people like him at the age of around twenty-seven. His face was a little long, but for a poor man, he tried to make himself look the best he could. And, to be honest, he was a little handsome, even though sweat and the mists of waves would often hide these features whilst he worked.

Work. The thought made him shiver. He never liked his work, it being fishing. The long hard hours spent straining his back and muscles and shivering in the cold water that was guaranteed to splash him, he thought of it as more of an amusement for those that put the work upon him. But, he did it because not only was it one of the only jobs he could perform in the town, but because it was one of the only jobs that brought food to the table, regardless of payment made by his employers. 

As Simon thought, he heard a loud noise which made him jump - and when he turned to see what it was he saw Isiah standing in the doorway, his hand still behind him from closing his door. To Simon, Isiah was perfect in every physical way. He was blond and had blue eyes. Simon thought that he had a perfect height - he wasn’t too small, or too tall. As he thought of that, he realized this was the case with the rest of him - Isiah wasn’t too fat, or too skinny. He wasn’t too strong or too weak, he wasn’t too broad or too narrow. Isiah was perfect for his twenty-eight-year-old self. To Simon, Isiah seemed to be perfectly balanced. A gem in the not-so-perfect family.

Isiah grunted; “Are you almost done in there?” he asked. Simon only quickly replied with his usual “Quite”, and he stepped out of the way. As Isiah washed there were a few moments of silence, and then Simon said, “I’ll go get changed and head out to the wharf, is there anything you may need while I’m gone?” Isiah was silent as he finished fixing his hair, which was quite obviously affected by bead-head, or so it was called. After he finished, he turned and looked at Simon, as if his brother's low and hard voice had offended his perfect image. He then said, “Unless you can magically find yourself a few hundred dollars and a ride out of here, I think I can handle.” Simon knew he would respond like that, and it usually meant ‘Come home with food or I make you get it.’ It was an idle threat, as they both knew that Simon was no novice at fishing, and he usually brought home just enough to eat, if not more. But, his comment saddened Simon, as Simon knew that’s what he wanted - but Simon was just happy enough to have a roof over his head, food on the table, and a job he could live off of.

As he left, he asked “Do you think Mothe-” and then stopped. He always forgot that Mother, along with the rest of the family, had passed away with the horrible sickness they called ‘Scarlet Fever’ a long time ago. He always did. That seemed to be one of the only things, if not the only thing, that could make Isiah lower his proud head. Although he could be very arrogant at times, he still loved his family - and they were the only two left. Of course, he thought, unless they counted their rich cousins - but he and his brother didn’t count them as family, in their rich, clean, and snobby state. They refused to help them, pay for them, and take them in. They looked at them both as if they were the vermin that infected this world, that needed to be taken care of. He tried not to think of them.

Simon went to his room and got dressed. He usually left his clothes on the floor by the foot of his bed, as there was nowhere else to put it. He only had two pairs of clothing, but he only had one pair of shoes. Washing his clothes was a horror beyond dreaming. He got dressed in his usual because it was his only choice. Brown pants, brown shirt, brown vest, brown shoes. He even had a brown hat, but he would scowl when he had to wear it when he was younger. He would always complain; “It makes me look worse than I already am!” But his mother would always be able to find soft and soothing words that would persuade him from throwing it onto the floor and stamping on it. Simon couldn’t help but smile at the thought.

After he was done, he headed down the narrow hallway to the small winding stairs that led down to the ground floor. As he headed down, he couldn’t help but think that the roof was lower down then it was yesterday, or last week - he couldn’t exactly remember, they all seemed the same to him. All with his daily schedule, all with his work, all with the same people. Nothing seemed to change here, he thought to himself.
He went down the stairs, and into the dining room - which was the living room and kitchen at the same time. He thought briefly about getting something for breakfast but then realized there was no breakfast until he went out and got it. The cold shiver came back. He then forgot about it and went to the door, and reached for the handle - but before he could open it, he remembered his jacket. ‘What a fool I would’ve been to forget my jacket in these climates,’ he thought. He then abruptly turned around and grabbed his coat, which was sitting by the door on a coat hanger.
That wasn’t the only thing in the room (which is what Simon and Isiah called it because otherwise, they would have a dispute about whether it was really the dining room, living room, or kitchen). Besides that, there was a table in the center of it, just across from the stairway. Further down, on the opposite end of the table (the table facing horizontally from the front door), there was a small stove and oven, both made of brick. They both had to be lit by hand because the mechanics to make them automatic was very expensive. To the right of that, there was a pantry, or so they called it, that contained all their food (which would tend to be stale bread and old fish). Salt was too expensive for them, so they had to eat the fresh food quickly, otherwise, it would only be a meal for the dogs, cats and rats in the back alleyway. There was no way to get water in the house, but that was the case for all of them - everyone knew they had to go to the well to get water, and if it was empty or dry, they would have to live off the ice that formed all over the place, in the mountainous heights of the village.

Simon then turned back to the door and opened it. As he did, a sudden wave of freezing air hit him in the face, and then he shivered and hurried outside. Simon did love the placement of his house. It gave him a very nice view of the village and wharf. Ah yes, the village. They called it Rumbleton, and for good reason. Every once in a while (which was not so rare), avalanches would show the village folk its disaster, and after it hit everyone spent a long time fixing everything back up. People would ask to move the town, but the Town Leaders said that this was one of the only places that were safe in the area, and there was no way that they could move on.

Simon thought it was a beautiful village, but he hadn’t seen what a city looked like. However, in a sense, he wasn’t wrong - it had everything one needed to live, and it was in a beautiful landscape. The village was built on the slope of a mountain, which was only one of many in the area… All the others surrounded the village like a castle, a fortress to protect them from invaders or raiders. The houses of the rich and wealthy were located at the higher ends of the mountain, and if one were to start from the top and walk all the way down, they could easily notice the difference in quality as they went down. At the bottom of the mountainside, there was a freshwater lake, and it led all the way into the ocean - which was only about a mile away. Of course, a mile was a long way for the fishermen who had to go down there, every day, in the freezing cold - but they were thankful that the lower they got, the warmer.

Simon continued down the path that led to the road that led to the shore. As he did, he waved or greeted all those he knew, and nodded to those he didn’t. There weren’t many he didn’t know, as travelers and merchants were the only strange faces in the village, and they seldom came any farther than the wharf. Everyone else he could name - Harry, the Village Butcher, John, the Blacksmith, Maya, the Market Clerk - all those faces were familiar to him. But as he passed, he turned to look at the houses before he left to the ocean shore. As he did, he saw the big house of the Village Leaders - or as some called them, the Village Supervisors, or as others called them, the Village Council - there were many names for them.

As he stared at their large council house, he noticed that it was finer, better built, then the other houses - even then those the wealthiest of the town presided in. Of course, he was expecting it to be - the Village Council seemed to be more greedy and arrogant than Isiah, and that was saying something. But, he knew that was the greed in the heart of men, and he wished to have no part in it. Then, as if the wind reminded him, it struck him with a very cold chill and he turned realizing he had to get back to work.

The time it took to get down there was maybe thirty minutes at most, but he was used to it - all the fishermen were. When he reached the bottom, he realized that he was late, once again, and that the carriage that took the fishermen to the wharf had left without him. He would have to walk. Again. But, all in all, Simon didn’t mind walking… It left him more time to his thoughts, to his dreams. His mother had always told him he would walk off the path if he didn’t pay attention, but just as if his mind knew what she was saying, he would barely pay attention to her, if he heard her at all. What he dreamed about, he would rarely remember - but all he knew is that it was better than the hard work they made him do on the fishing boat. But he also knew that his job brought him food, and that’s all that mattered. It took him roughly another thirty minutes to get to the shore, where he saw all the other fishermen - Finn, Gabriel, Abe, and the whole lot.

As he was about to go get some bait, he felt something on his shoulder which made him turn quickly. The feeling was a hand. The person who had tapped him on the shoulder was all but unfamiliar to him, and he couldn’t tell if he was some kind of relative of one of the other fishermen or just a beggar. If he was a beggar, he certainly knew how to beg.

He was a shorter man, at least shorter than Simon. From what it looked like, he could be in his late thirties. He had black hair and grey eyes, and his hair was a little long, and he had a beard which was a little uneven in places. He was only a little round, more of an average circumference. He was very broad… If he was a fisherman, he must have had a hard time going through all the small doors and hatches on the boats. 

He then stuck out his hand. “Hello!” he said. “I am new around these parts, and it so happens I was placed in this lovely group of fishermen to work with.” He said that sarcastically. Simon, quite confused, shook his hand and said “Hello there - I’m Simon. Can I help you?” The man stared at him for a second, as if he were contemplating what to say - then he said, “My name is Ishmael, and no, I need no help. I am only going around and introducing myself.” He stood there awkwardly, then said, “Actually, I was told to find a man named Simon, that I would be working with him. You seem to be the only Simon around, so I’m assuming you’re the one they wanted me to find.” He had more of a deep, rumbly voice… one you would expect from a dwarf. Simon then said, “Well, I was going to get some bait… You know how to fish, Ishmael?” Ishmael looked at Simon as if he were out of his right mind. “Of course I can!” He rumbled… “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t know, would I?”
Simon knew Ishmael had a point, and he hit his head in his mind for his stupidity. “Well, come on, Simon, let’s go get that bait.”

The bait shop was small, but not as small as his house. The Village Council knew that shops and other stores would have to be bigger so that they could hold more stock. Simon always thought what they thought of other people, and what they would do, if anything, if poor people had many family members living in their house… They probably wouldn’t even lift a finger to help them.

Ishmael's booming voice interrupted his thinking. “So, Simon, what bait do you usually get?” Simon then looked for the shelf with the bait that he always used. Live bait was what he preferred, but it was very expensive… But fishermen, fortunately, always got everything at a discount, if not free, at the fishing shop. The fishing shop was a peculiar place, even in its placement. It was the only shop that wasn’t near any other buildings, but the Village Council wanted it to be close to the ocean… So they made it a sort of beach shop. This did protect the shop from avalanches, but what the avalanches couldn’t do, the great big storms that sent waves crashing down on the shore did.

The inside was made of wood, as pretty much everything was. The main showroom was full of fishing items… Fishing rods, bait, oars, hooks, and everything else a fisherman might need. They even let people rent boats. Some shelves lined the walls on both the right and left side of the shop from the entrance had the contents of all that was mentioned above, but also had books on fishing, guides, and other articles a fisherman might find handy.

After Simon got his bait and other equipment he would need, he then headed out to the docks where the boats were held. Ishmael was following close behind him, ready to do the work he needed to.
 
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Simon walked home from work - he was exhausted. He could barely remember what he did today, but it didn’t matter - it was all the same. He managed to catch his fair share of fish, which he was quite happy about. Ishmael had taken part of his day except when they left, which is when Ishmael parted down the road towards some of the lower end houses - even lower-end than his own. That didn’t matter to Simon. Ishmael seemed to be a nice guy, always checking with Simon before he did something, and if Simon asked him to do something we wouldn’t talk back unless he asked a question about the task because he didn’t quite understand it. To be honest, Simon thought he was a very strange man - it was very rare to find help as a fisherman, and even rarer for that help to be willing, without question.

Simon was whistling... which is something he rarely did. He didn’t know why he did it, but he just kept on walking. Simon couldn’t determine the tune, as it was one of those tunes that just sounded good being whistled, and there was no specification to it. As he did this, he threw up the fish he had in his bag and did so again. Up and down they went, and they made a loud chinking noise as they rubbed against each other. 
It took a while for him to get back to his house, so he felt more tired then he was. After what felt like ages, he saw his house and gladly trotted towards it - still whistling. As he did, he remembered that Isiah was probably grumpy, as he always was in the evening - so suddenly he stopped his casual tune and the throwing of the fish and silence then filled the area - all except the slight, somewhat mystic howl of the wind. As Simon opened the door, it made a creak louder than usual - which, to be honest, was usual itself. Isiah was sitting on a stool and was resting his elbows on the table, and rested his head on his hands. Simon knew he was probably thinking. As he thought this, Isiah turned and looked at him.

“Have dinner?”

“Yes, quite a bit.”

“Good.” Isiah seemed tired - but then again, he was always in this mood in the evening. This was probably because he had nothing to eat until dinner - but to make up for it, the dinner was usually enough to feed them both. As they both knew, Simon was no amateur at fishing. 
That night they had fried fish - which was, of course, the only other option besides roasted fish. The only difference is that one was crispy, and the other was just warm. After dinner, Simon cleaned the table as Isiah went up to bed. After Simon was done, he quietly climbed the stairs to his bedroom - hoping that the floor wouldn’t make a noise loud enough to wake Isiah up. Isiah was one to fall asleep quickly, and one to get up early. Simon, however, was not.

As Simon went into his room, he silently closed the door - and then got undressed. After that, he lay down on his bed. For a little while he looked up at the moon and the stars - then he closed his eyes, and slept.  
 
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Ishmael walked for about ten minutes after he parted with Simon before he reached the inn. Ishmael thought it was very strange for this Village to have an inn, as Simon said there were rarely any visitors who stayed for more than a day - but then again, he knew that already. This fact didn't concern Ishmael, as he had more important issues to stretch his mind over. Before he entered the inn, he did a quick scan of the area around him to make sure that no one was watching him, and that no one could see him enter. After he was quite convinced that he was unseen, he entered the inn. 

Ishmael thought the inn was about as big as the fishing shop, but its inner design made it different in space to the human eye. There were several tables in no apparent order or pattern that crowded the floor in the main room, and there was some sort of counter at the back of the inn. To the right of that, there was a staircase that led to the bedrooms. Ishmael walked past the barkeeper and to the stairs, which he climbed quickly. At the top, he turned into the narrow corridor with all the doors on either side, signifying that there was a room there. Ishmael went into ways down and then turned to the door which belonged to his room, clicked the key in and unlocked it, and then entered. 
The room was quite small, the only furnishings of it being a bed in the top right corner, a closet beneath that, and a dresser which was in the middle of the left wall. At the end of the room, there was a window. As Ishmael started getting undressed, a voice behind him scared him and made him turn at a speed which would make someone flinch. The voice said; “Hello Ishmael - everything’s going according to plan, I hope?” The voice was deep and mysterious - as if the speaker was trying to muffle his true voice. 

“Of course,” Ishmael said.

“The fisherman?”

“Unsuspecting.”

“Excellent.” The voice sounded pleased. Then it asked, “Why a fisherman though? Why that one?” Ishmael hesitated for a moment, as if to wonder how he should answer that question - and then said, “I chose a fisherman because that is the main trade of this Village, and being a fisherman can get you almost anywhere here. As for that particular fisherman, I’m not quite sure - everyone said he was the most unquestionable.” As he said this, he could make out a dark figure sitting on his bed - presumably his employer. The figure was nodding his head. “Good.” It said. Then, “Well, I’ll leave you to it - you seem to know what you’re doing. But, you are clear about your job?” Ishmael said, “Yes, I am aware of the duties I must perform.” And with that, the figure swiftly leapt up and hastily exited the room. ‘What a strange job…’ Thought Ishmael.
 
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Simon was standing in the middle of a narrow stone corridor - lit by a few dismal torches. Simon looked around - this was a peculiar place. The stone was very old… He could tell by the misshapen mess they were, and he could tell because they were covered in some sort of slimy moss. As for the torches, they were a wonder themselves. The handles were made of some black wood, and the fire was green. Wherever Simon was, he didn’t like it - and he wanted to know where he was and if it was inhabited. 

As if something read his thoughts, a voice called him. It wasn’t a spoken voice, but a voice he heard in his head. It urged him to move forward. As if he had no control over his body, he moved forward against his own will - something Simon thought was very strange, and it scared him. He felt himself starting to sweat. As he moved forward, he saw a door - which he then opened. 

The door led into a small room, which was lit by the same gross torches in the hallway. Inside the room were two chairs, a table, and a fireplace at the end of the room - which was, again, the same intriguing green color of the other torches. The chairs were both facing the fireplace, at an angle - and the table was in between them. There was a hooded figure in one of the chairs - and it urged Simon to sit down. And again, like the voice, the gesture seemed to have some sort of authority over him, which he could only object to in his mind. After he sat, the figure looked at him and said, “Hello, Simon - I hope you are comfortable.” Simon blinked at the figure, and then asked “Who, or what, are you - and why am I here?” The figure stared for a brief moment as if to intimidate him. Then it said, “I am one who lives in shadows… One who lives unseen. I am he who humans fear, and he who humans praise.” Simon looked at the figure as if it were crazy. Then, as if the figure knew what he was thinking, it said; “I am more commonly known, throughout human history and religion, as Death.” 

Simon felt himself turn cold. ‘Death?’ He thought. ‘What business does Death have with me?’ But as he thought that, a sudden fear crept inside him. Death, intelligent as he was, answered his thoughts again. “I am here to warn you about the man, Ishmael - he is dangerous, and works with people who intend to harm your village, to receive the treasure which lies beneath it.” Simon was puzzled - he had no idea if this figure was really Death, or where he even was. Death just sat there, as if he were waiting for a response. Simon then said, “Well, what do you want me to do about it?” 

“I want you to stop him, at all costs.” Death replied.

“How would I do that?”

“Figure it out. You’re a smart man.”
“What is the treasure beneath the village?” Simon was desperate for answers now - he was shocked by the volume of his voice. Death simply responded, “A treasure that if a human gets, and uses for the wrong purpose, things will not end well.” 

“And why you? Out of all the people to tell me, why Death?”

“Because I will be doing most of the work.” Death responded. 

Simon had many more burning questions, like ‘What does this substance do?’ or ‘What work would you perform?’ But before he could open his mouth, everything disappeared - and he opened his eyes to find himself on the floor of his room, sweating.

‘What was that about?’ He thought - but he didn’t care enough to find out. He just wanted to forget all about it and just pretend it was a nightmare… But Simon knew it wasn’t a nightmare - at least it didn’t feel like it. It seemed so real… And what was so dangerous about Ishmael? He seemed to be very harmless, much less dangerous. ‘But, it’s the ones you don’t expect who back-stab you.’ Is what his mother would always say. And he knew that Mother was always right. In any case, he tried to forget it. He hurriedly got dressed, and didn’t even care to touch up his looks - he went straight out the door, to work, regardless of the shouts of confusion from Isiah.

About halfway through his trip, he was stopped by a crowd of people - and his footsteps were muffled in all their shouts and cries of confusion. Simon was quite confused, but he continued anyway. He pushed through the crowd, and reached the front of it - and what he saw was devastating. The entire wharf, along with all the ships, were burnt down. The Village Guard had created a barrier to prevent people from going any further, so people wouldn’t hurt themselves. 

“What happened here?” Simon asked.

“I don’t know - but no one is to come further, by order of the Council.” Replied one of the guards.

As he said this, a sudden boom which deafened and scared everyone came from behind. Everyone turned with horror to see that someone had blown up a giant portion of the mountain closest to the lake - and Simon realized the burning of the wharf was just a diversion so that the person or people who blew up the side of the mountain could work undisturbed. 

‘So this is what Death was talking about…’ Simon thought. 

But Simon had no intention of being a part of this, as the explosion had caused sparks of flame and giant pieces of burning rock to fall upon the village. With that, Simon saw that the group of people who blew up the mountain were struggling - it seemed that the explosion had caused an avalanche… How smart of them. Simon then saw them being crushed by their destruction, and he saw that the village wasn’t going to be a village much longer - so he turned and ran to his house to grab Isiah and leave. When he got to the house, he saw Isiah already packing up provisions for the trip, enough for the both of them for three days. After Isiah saw Simon, he quickly stuffed the last of the provisions and headed out. He and Simon then ran for the exit of the village, hoping it wasn’t blocked by the avalanche. After they ran for about two minutes, they saw the exit - and it wasn’t blocked by the avalanche. It was blocked, however, by people wearing the same uniform of the people who had caused this catastrophe, and they weren’t letting anyone through. Simon cursed bitterly. He stopped Isiah who looked as confused as he was, and then started searching for another way out - but to no avail. He then decided to run past the armed men, hoping they would be too fast for them to stop - but then he had an idea. He walked slowly, more of a casual speed, towards the armed guards, who looked anxious themselves. He knew they wanted to leave as badly as they did. But he just walked on normally.

The guards looked at him;

“Halt!” The big one in the front came forward. “No one passes.”

“We aren’t here to pass, but only to ask of you what events are happening to cause this commotion?”

The guard looked around, and Simon could see the sweat on his forehead.

“There was an explosion, as you may have heard - and it seems that the Village is being hammered with pieces of shrapnel from the event. However, no one will leave.” 

“Why not?”

“Well…” As the guard said this, Simon sprinted past him, Isiah trotting behind. The guard stood there for a second before he realized what was happening - and then he shouted, “Grab them!” The other guards turned and started to run after them, but as they did a giant boulder blocked them from the two running civilians. At least, Simon thought it blocked them - it may have come an inch closer than that. 

Simon kept on running, and he did so for what felt like hours. The Sun was hot on his back, which was a nice feeling compared to the bitter cold the climate of the mountainous village offered. “What will we do now? Where will we go?” Isiah sounded exhausted. But before Simon could answer, a voice that made him freeze came from behind him. 

“Leaving so soon?” Death asked.

“Oh no, we just didn’t want to live in a village of stone.” Simon croaked. As he said this, he saw the utter confusion in Isaiah's eyes - and he pitied him. He probably had no idea what was going on. 

“Seems reasonable… But unfortunately, you know of the secret underneath your ‘village of stone’. And for that, I cannot let you continue.”

As Death said this, Simon gulped. He turned slowly… as if he hoped it would delay Death from committing the action he so feared.

“Is there nothing I can do to evade my Fate?” Simon whispered.

“Nobody can evade their fate, Simon. People just have different fates. Yours has led you to your end, as everyone else’s will. Why are you so afraid - do you fear death?”

“No…” Replied Simon… “I just fear what lies beyond death.”

“Then you are wiser than most.” Simon saw that Death had what looked like an aged Scythe… Made out of that same ghastly black wood he saw in his strange vision. I seemed to be browner, in the light. 

“Your troubles are over, your Village is only but a ruin amongst the rubble. I think it is time to end our journey here.”

And as Death said this, he raised his scythe - and it was the last thing Simon ever saw.

[Person_Random 4,991]

Approved.

Great story! I loved the plot and the character development - there was so much to read I was a bit too absorbed to be paying attention to anything else happening. I'm really impressed with the plot line. It started so casual and chill until the end (I won't be spoiling it for anyone!) and the event lead up was amazing and suspenseful. I'm impressed by your story. Keep up the good work!

And of course, welcome to the AWS!

Edits:

Spoiler

- There were quite many comma mistakes that I fixed. As a general guideline, use commas before and after appositive (descriptive) phrases and name mentions and after the dependent clause in a dependent - independent clause sentence.
Ex. I am talking to you, Random.
She did not sue the dirty thief, a hardened hooligan who had spent many years in jail, for breaking into her car.

After I went to the doctor's office for an infection, I was given antibiotics.

- The rest were minor spelling and grammar mistakes, with a few rephrases here and there.

 

[foxer_XXX 135]

Also, sorry @Sacrifice, but I had to steal Reaper for this one... He seemed very enthusiastic to get some action, and I had the perfect offer... Also, no offense, but Reaper said that part-time pole dancing isn't exactly what he expected, and he wanted you to talk to him about that  :x

[Viking4s 10,791]

A lot of good idea and development in this story. It also raises a lot of questions that remains unanswered, the story is half told or half finished in my opinion. I can't pinpoint what the story is trying to tell the reader.

Death is a cunning folk, he told him about the treasure and then take his life because he knows about the treasure. If that secret is dangerous, then death should be happy, and will be expecting more customer in the future. 

[printing_now 59]

Wow, great story. Took a while to read, but it was definitely worth it!

[foxer_XXX 135]

2 hours ago, printing_now said:

Wow, great story. Took a while to read, but it was definitely worth it!

Thank you! I definitely enjoyed writing it

 

On 5/5/2020 at 3:39 AM, Viking4s said:

A lot of good idea and development in this story. It also raises a lot of questions that remains unanswered, the story is half told or half finished in my opinion. I can't pinpoint what the story is trying to tell the reader.

Death is a cunning folk, he told him about the treasure and then take his life because he knows about the treasure. If that secret is dangerous, then death should be happy, and will be expecting more customer in the future. 

I can understand your point - however just to make you aware this story is kind of mixed. It was not originally going to end like this, and I actually had three ideas I tried to write, and after all the others failed, I landed with this one. It was originally supposed to be about some really uneducated people wondering why gravity hadn't affected the moon, and I was supposed to be humorous - however, I wrote the beginning and I realized that it would never match up. I then tried to write it with a moral, about how everyone is equal, yet different, regardless of their race, skin color, eye color, and so forth (which is where Isaiah came from) but that didn't work either. I then tried to do it with the cautions of trust (thus introducing Ishmael), but I couldn't make that work up to a certain point. I then tried to add my own kind of twist, resulting in Death, the Treasure, and therefore the final version of The Village of Stone. I could always try writing a sequel, if you think that this story is missing something. But that is why there is really no point (or several points to choose from) to the story, at least in a moral point of view.

Edited May 20, 2020 by foxer_XXX