Hey guys incase you were wondering Hassins's name is pronounced Has-Sins a little genius part of my brain came up with that and I really liked the name, like a lot. (Notice I said LITTLE genius part of my brain.) -Scar
'Warren' she questioned
'Dead.' was all he answered.
-Robert Frost
Hassins turned down on me with a smile of sadness. He was wearing a long sleeved shirt and dress pants. On his shoulder were long thin slice marks scabbed over. Some scarred some new. He caught me looking and pulled up his sweater until it was no longer visible.
"You're not supposed to be here," I said looking back at his face.
"Who's to say that?"
"Who's to say you are welcome?" He smiled. His teeth were pure white like a silk dress-
"We have to go. You may grab your friends but we must go." His smile faded.
"I don't have many friends, you've killed one of two." He looked taken aback.
"That was an accident-" I held up a hand.
"Doesn't matter. I'm not going with you." He shrugged. With one swift movement he brought out a long birch branch. The top set itself on fire in black flames. Touching the tip of the flames to the wall he began to burn a circle. Standing to curious to move I stared at the circle that had turned red when he connected the lines. But it wasn't a circle he was drawing but a heart with three distinct lines going through it. It was the same heart that was branded onto my mother's arm. Walking up to Hassins I tapped him on the shoulders. Before I knew what to do he turned around. Feeling fire of pain go up into my hand as I connected it with his jaw.
"Why Mr. Hassins I thought you were on our side, if I were you I be hoping someone doesn't tell your daddy." Aragorn smiled. Or I did. But I wouldn't know because the world went black.
+
A little girl in a white dress danced around the field, her dress snagging on wheat. She skipped up to me. Only then did I realize it was me. The difference was she had opaque gray eyes. She shook a finger at me beckoning. Against my better judgement I followed the younger ombre me.
The fields immediately changed to an old wooden village. Log tents draped in fabric dotted the sides of a rode along with a few cabins. At the end of the rode was steel evergreens with silver flakes as the needles and gold as the pine cones. People stood outside their houses staring. Dark scorch marks went from their right eyebrow to the top of their cheek bone, sending a black over their eye. The clothes they wore were mostly triangles packed onto triangles fabric patterned; shawls, t-shirts, even boots. But the pants were all the same: black leggings or black sweatpants.
"This is were you will live when you're ours." She spoke, pointing to a log cabin.
"When?" I questioned.
"Death." Was all she answered.
+
The air around me was colder then possible. White dots passed over the black of my eyelids.
"Raven," Someone whispered. I wanted to say it was Cyrus but last time I assumed that it was Hassins. Hassins.
"Hassins," I bolted upward. This time it was Cyrus and he looked hurt, more hurt then usual.
YOU ARE READING
Scrolled Fire (ON HOLD)
Science Fiction"You are told to follow one rule that had been written in Eason's Articles for hundreds of years when you enter Eason, our wonderful country of peace and one rule to punish you not doing so. 1) Because looks do not matter in Eason, all Citizens mus...
