Sweet Torment (boyxboy)

Chapter 12: To what do I owe

----------------------------Hey guys. Comment if you will, vote if you think it is deserving. Enjoii if you can. Constructive criticism welcomed. This chapter dedicated to kraziigurl for being my first official commenter. Other than my best friend. :*)---------------------------------------------------------

The Middle Ages is the period of European history encompassing the 5th to the 15th centuries, normally marked from the collapse of the Western Roman Empire until the beginning of the Renaissance and the Age of Discovery, the periods which ushered in the Modern Era. The medieval period thus is the mid-time of the traditional division of Western history into Classical, Medieval, and Modern periods; moreover, the Middle Ages usually is divided into the Early Middle Ages, the High Middle Ages, and the Late Middle Ages. Our beloved Choriandus(Chory) happens to be from the Early Middle Ages, to help better your understanding of the chapters to come. So please, do continue.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\Flashback. Early Middle Ages. Chory's untimely death./\/\/\/\//\\/\/\/\/\/\/\

I watched with many emotions coursing through me, from the faces of my family, and then a drastic change to the faces of the ridiculously enraged townspeople. I was currently bound by rope soaked in flammable substance, tied around my middle, neck, arms and finally feet. Pale and shaking, I did my best to send a comforting facial expression to my family, but what means could comfort them now? My dearest mother had tears running uncontrolled down her face. A sight that i did not wish to see just before i die.

Though I am grateful that I am able to see them at all, that the village elders are discussing matters before I was set to fire. I looked from my mother to my siblings, seeing the longing in their faces, wishing to somehow convince the elders of my innocence, trying to form a plan as the young so often do. I myself longed to see my youngest siblings, yet I was joyous that they did not have to witness such gruesome pastimes, and therefore hold gruesome memories.  I do not wish this on any of my family, but find solace in their presence. Lastly I set my eyes upon my father's face. The unmistakable grief in his gaze drew out the long-awaited tears.

My father, the strength of my family now looking stricken. I tore my gaze away and cried out with inner pain. I then felt a sharp pain in my abdomen, and decided it was a swell time to recognize the  vicious people throwing equally vicious words my way. I turn my teary gaze to the rest of the throng, and see rocks in their clutches. Does music truly make so many hate me so much? It was they who were enthralled by that which they now condemn. I cannot blame them for believing the elders on a whim. We all do. In my and most definitely my family's case, DID. That witch......this is her doing. No fault rests with any other but her. She confronted me just before I was accused of witchcraft myself! Little do these fools know how close they were to a real witch.

This 'Thelda' seems to have a grudge against me for my talent alone. It also seems that she has never grown mentally. I know her name because when a witch uses his/her magic for personal selfish gain, you are immediately informed in your mind of his/her identity. I have not the most minimal idea of what it is she has done, but i fear not only the worst, but i fear when i will find out. May it be that this violent death is her curse upon me? I clench my eyes and fists in pain as another stone connected with the sensitive flesh of my ear. I felt the slow trickle of blood down my throat, and opened my eyes with a hasty breath through gritted teeth.

I heard more commotion to my right, and looked in that direction, for my neck was immobile due to the bindings. I see the elders have finished. Soon they are in front of me, and at least I have the satisfaction of looking down on their pitiful selves from my post. I can not respect those who kill what they enjoy simply because they enjoyed it too much. My attention is drawn by the aforementioned as they glare one last time before calling out to the crowd, now quieted in order to listen.