Today, my readers, will be reading a short story, made by me, for the book of Necromancers’ Pride.
Here we go: enjoy. *******************
A lone merchant had been traveling a road for days, looking for merchandise to sell. He came across abandon towns, run down castles and huge mountains, but they had all been cleared out and looted.
One day, this merchant came to a huge, tumbling hill, looking as if it had been shaken up and placed down again; for the ancient earthen walls of the trench looked fragile.
The lone, tired merchant saw opportunity in those cracked walls and walked straight up to them, climbing over rocks and plants, of course.
The merchant licked his dry, cracked lips as he carefully began to move the large rocks and shifting soil.
After about an hour of digging, the merchant began to give up, but a slight area of dirt moved, exposing him to an old, wooden door.
The merchant, being excited, quickly began to move the rocks in his way, but in his haste, neglected to remember the unstable area of land he disrupted. The walls shifted and started to collapse as the merchant quickly opened the old door and slipped inside, just as the rocks tumbled in front of the door from the outside.
Inside this chamber, a sickly glowing bluish light emerged from the darkness, leading the man to his prize.
The merchant, being curious and greedy, hastily follow the lights until he reached another door, which was locked. The merchant picked up a large stone and banged on the lock until it creaked open.
Inside, he found a small wooden desk, a wooden chair, and a Marlendale feather bed, a now extinct and ferocious bird species. There was a huge, bear-like creature rug on the floor, and on the desk was a small box with a lock and a key next to it. The blue lights hovered above these items.
The merchant unlocked the box and discovered an old diary. It read in neat, flawless handwriting:
Whoever you are, how ever you got this. You will be cursed if you take this from the place it is in right now. Take my warning, for since I am not physically anymore, I am always around. Of course, I am not going to waste an entire diary for just one page, for if you be worthy, shall read it.
That was all in the diary, for the merchant was not worthy. But the merchant, who didn’t believe in superstition, took the diary anyway, for he figured whoever could read the ‘worthy’ script would pay a high price.
The merchant walked away with his prize, only to be struck down by the bear-like creature, who was awakened by his treachery.
Now the bear-like creature, the bed, and the journal are back in their proper places to be found by the worthy one.
There you go! I love leaving cliff-hangers! First of all, you get mad at the writer for doing that, second of all, you know there’s a sequel!
Well, see you soon!