Jonathan Clarke
Short Stories of July 2014
Short Stories of July 2014 – wersja pierwsza Copyright © 2014 Jonathan Clarke Wszystkie prawa zastrzeżone. Zabrania się kopiowania i rozpowszechniania bez zgody autora. Czcionka w tytule: Chunk Five Ex 80’ Czcionka w tytułach opowiadań: Mohave 26’ Czcionka w tekście zwykłym: Georgia 12’ Czcionka na stronie copyright: Calibri 12’ www.whatswrittenhere.wordpress.com www.anotherwordofrelief.wordpress.com www.writingobservations.wordpress.com
Once, there was a man with supernatural abilities. He was able to control all four elements of nature - water, air, stone and fire. Although he knew about these abilities, he hadn't done anything with them until he was eighteen years old. In July, while walking through garden, that lay by his house, he abruptly felt something overwhelming. Despite all his mental strength, he couldn't resist. His powers went out, destroying everything around him. All the things in his sight just disappeared, like they've never really existed before. Having destroyed his entire village, the man cried. But when the last tear sunk into the ground, he leaved and set his way to another kingdom, where he could start his whole life from the very beginning. After a journey that lasted two months, he finally reached his destination. He built a hut in dark forest, where no other people had lived before. He hunted down wild animals, with a bow made by himself, to get food. The man had been living like that for almost five years, when his real fate called him. He met an old man, who was passing through the forest. The old man was dying. But then something impossible happened and the old man became healthy. The man was a powerful wizard. He taught the man living in the woods how to use his powers properly. Soon the brand new mage of four elements went to university. After ten years of training he became the most powerful mage in the world and got the title of Archmage. He died in age of one hundred twenty five.
The empress ran through the main corridor, leading her way towards the throne chamber. She knew acting like that would be no good for her, but Arthakar, the Prince Heir of Kathair, was in danger and the empress was the only person, who could do something about that. Telling her ministers about it would be just too risky. Lies—that was the only thing stopping her from doing it. One unnecessary word would bring her son abrupt death and no one would know its cause. She omitted slaves and guards. None of them was capable of looking at her, but they couldn't hide shock and unbelievable gazes. Their ruler passing them in a run, like it was an ordinary thing to do for a person like that! Some of the guardsmen stayed alarmed for a moment, but without any orders they could do naught, but standing there and keeping watch. And the empress went farther, omitting fantasy tapestries and marble sculptures. She didn't notice Vienna, her housekeeper, who tried to make a proper salute.
The city looked so small from the spine of a dragon. People were like ants, armored and holding long swords. A dragon was worth a hundred man like that. But even a grown dragon needed its rider. Tarnak ought to be with his pals at the Great Keep of Ghyladan but instead he decided to help his people at the city gates. The situation there was critic while other two dragon riders of the army would certainly manage to get in the Great Keep. Their beasts were bigger and stronger than Tarnak’s and they would always treat him in an insolent way, even though he was of their age. The dragon fire was able to boil enemy’s soldiers in their armor. Still Tarnak had to watch for the archers. Their arrows could easily tear his mount’s thin wings. He rounded in the air, in one moment just above the ground and high among the grey clouds in another. No one could ever get accustomed to flying on such a great height; it was a shocking but pleasant experience. Flying a dragon had always been. While the other riders tried to get through the Great Keep’s walls, the soldiers at the gate had finally managed to break the second iron crate and started fighting the watchers off. The chances of both sides on the ground were equal, but three dragons would make the conquest as easy as breaking to a pantry. Nothing could stop these fierce beasts from destroying everything what stood on their way. The victory was just a matter of time. Of time and fire. Having the plaza behind the main gate cleaned from foes, Tarnak led his dragon high in the air, turning to the Keep. It was a great fortress, built hundreds of years ago, two hundred feet tall, with walls so thick that breaking them was a problem even for those two dragons. Tarnak was wrong – they would need him there. He commanded his dragon and soon a lance of fire was split in the hot air around the Keep. Dragon rider started sweating, barely bearing the overwhelming heat that punched his face like a strong fist. His companions apparently didn’t know what to do so Tarnak took the lead, gratefully thanking gods for this occasion to show them his real worth. He came closer to them and ordered them to center the fire of the three dragons in one place, not spread it all over the hard grey-stone walls. They obeyed with a lack of eager but still obeyed. Abruptly Tarnak noticed that the strength of three fire-lances combined made the hard stone melt like a block of ice. He felt the greatest of reliefs, sure about their win at the moment. Suddenly, he heard loud high squeak, tearing the heated air apart. Something bad was happening, he realized. One of the dragons had been hurt with an extremely long bolt, spear-like with a sharp blade on one end looking like teeth of some wild beast. They were shooting to them with an unknown weapon, deadly even for dragons. The green dragon fell to the ground.
Tarnak’s mount managed to dodge but the great spear still scratched its right side. “Retreat!” Tarnak screamed, pulling his dragon aback. “Retreat!” he shouted as the other remaining rider still tried to get into the Keep. He decided to hide behind green hills on the south of Ghyladan. He didn’t know, whether his dragon was going to live or not. And, in truth, he didn’t want to know. The buildings around her were burning with wild flames that no one was able to put out. Vel didn’t know where to go first. The gate still held but for how long? She saw a dragon rider above it and that wasn’t a good sign. In the next few hours Ghyladan was going to surrender, the girl was sure about it. What would be then, she hadn’t thought about it. Surely nothing good for her. The smoke made her eyes itch and the air was hard to breath with. At least the dragons were gone, only ashes left after their presence. She could see two of them aside the Great Keep. Vel saw the dragons for the first time in her life, but she certainly was not impressed, scared rather. Anxious about life her and her sister, Joyne. Her little sister could be dead already, buried among some ruined building or shot by a strayed arrow. The battle started so abrupt that Vel hadn’t managed to give her sister a shelter. She turned towards the Keep, the plaza beside it where she last saw Joyne. Finding her was all she thought about at the moment. She barely could walk among ruined houses and shops. Dead people lay all over the ground, their faces half-burned or smashed with stones falling from the sky as the edifices tumbled down. When she finally reached the plaza, she felt a shadow cast on her back. The third dragon joined the other two at the Great Keep to help them. She knew, what that meant: the work was done, the city gate had been broken and soon the soldiers would march towards the place where she was. Vel looked around, trying to find some safe place where no one would though somebody could hide in. But there were only ruins throughout and three fire beasts above her head. She wondered about their colorful scales for a moment, almost reconciled with a conviction about soon death. And that was when one of the dragons hit the ground right next to her.
Patrick gave me an accommodation on the day I arrived in Bullowsbury. I wasn't accustomed to living with other people in one room but I had to spare it with Patrick's little brother, John. John seemed to be a nice person: he even gave me his acquiescence to use his DVD player and to read his comic books. I was glad I would spend time with such a good roommate. The only thing that needed adjustment were all the black metal band posters hung on the room's walls. They were so distracting! I was very agitated before meeting Patrick's parents. I was anxious they would be offensive but they were as nice as rest of the family. But my mood had altered when I met his sister, Clara. She turned out to be an aloof person. Listening to her constant chitter was a real anguish. I would feel real apprehension every time I talked with her in the future. Her angular face and dark eyes always made me shiver, even when she tried to act nicely (which hadn't occurred many times, in fact). Anyway, everyone else just assented her to babble and blather, so I decided to do the same. That's the whole family of Westons: Patrick, his mother - Linda, his father Christopher, his sister Clara, and his brother John. And, of course, the family dog called Lucky. Lucky was a golden retriever, male, with beautiful yellow fur and big blue eyes. And in that chaos - me, Jonathan Clarke. Call me Jon, if you want. My parents decided I should attend the best High School and they sent me to Bullowsbury, where I was to learn and live with their friends for next three years.
The forest is haunted, she thought, it has to be haunted. Mary hid herself behind a huge moss-covered boulder, the only place in the bush where she could just feel safe. The sun was surely well above the horizon, but thousands of leaves and hundreds of thick trunks made the forest look like if it was midnight. Only a few gleams of sunlight sunk through the upper branches of old trees. Every tree cast a shadow and every shadow looked like a men’s silhouette, which made the little girl shiver. She tried telling herself that she was not scared, not at all. It didn’t work. Even the thinnest sound was like a groan to her. But silence was even worse. There were times when silence fell and abruptly a call of some wild animal emerged from it. Mary would always scream when that had happened. She didn’t knew where her parents were, neither did she knew where was her house. The only thing she knew was that she was lost. Lost and alone in a twilit forest. Vast forest. If she tried walking in a particular direction, it would take long hours for her to reach its end. They meant to gather mushrooms for the dinner and then Mary lost her parents from the eyesight. She would try to call them from time to time, but the answer never came. So she wandered for a moment, trying to find their car. After half an hour she realized she was lost. Mum always told her that if she was lost, she ought to stay in one place and wait for help. But help did not come. Mary felt hunger and anger, and fear. I can’t fear the forest, she thought for a hundredth time that day. It’s just a few trees and grass, and moss, and lots of birds in the air. The loud gasp came unexpected. Mary rose to her feet, not sure what to do. She heard another gasp and after it a loud, sharp roar. Every roar after it was getting closer and closer. The girl was reasonable enough to start running. She ran, and ran, and ran, changing the direction every few steps. She barely noticed what was under her feet in the overwhelming darkness and she would stumble many times. But she would also get up and run farther, trying not to thump into one of the trees’ trunks or get tangled into branches of a shrub. Somehow, she managed to run away from the roaring but nevertheless she ran farther and farther, half-wit from fear. When she at last stopped, breathless and extremely exhausted, she noticed that the trees in the place, where she was, were cramped tightly together. It must be the center of the forest, she thought with sudden despair. She was farther from any end of the bush than any time before. At least she knew where she should go – farther to the direction she had ran previously. She got upright. That was when she noticed the bear.
Danar tried to open the door but he didn’t succeed. The key was in the lord’s private chambers, guarded by two sentinels with spears in their hands. There was no way to pass them unseen, none that Danar would know. There were many secret corridors along the well-known ones, but they didn’t lead to any chambers of the house’s head nor to the rooms of his offspring or his lady wife. It wasn’t a good feature if they would have to run away while attacked by one of the kingdom’s enemies. “How do I get there…” he wondered aloud. It was his first mission here, in an enormous fortress called the Golden Tower. In truth, it was just one edifice, but big enough to give a place to sleep for hundreds of visitors. There was one advantage to its structure – it was almost impossible to be conquered. The disadvantage was that it was very easy to rob. Suddenly Danar heard sound of metal thumping against the floor and decided to flee. But it was too late for that now. He stood face to face with a well-armored guard, a long spear in his hand. “Who are you?” He heard harsh voice of the men. “Speak quickly or I’ll cut your throat!” Danar had promised his master…but in the moment he had no other choice. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, reaching towards his belt, where he had hidden a small glass bottle. “Wha-” he never finished the question. The thief threw the small bottle against his face and in one second it melted like an ice cube. Danar shivered. It was no good sight. Magic of alchemists. It was supposed to be used where there was no other way. The men knew that his master would be angry when he asks him to give the bottle back. He would need to convince him about the necessity. After a moment another sound had reached his ear, sound of four feet. Soon the castle would fill with warnings about a murderer. He didn’t waste his time and started running, changing the directions almost blindly. There was no time for reaching for his map – drawn by the Master of the Guild – and check the way. For a moment he was convinced he was lost in the maze of corridors, all looking the same. And then he saw a door, one of the entrances to the secret labyrinth. He gasped with relief. And then the door opened. The light made him blind for a while and after he got accustomed to it, he saw a knight. It was a knight, no doubt about it. His blonde hair gleamed in the soft light, his armor was gilded and covered with sculptures, the armlets two heads of wolves. The men’s crest was painted intricately on his shield – four white stars on the background of twilit sky, dark purple and light pink. It was the coat of arms of one of the ancient houses – house Arrynt. “Prepare for your death, thief,” the noble knight murmured.
The day had dawned hot and sunny for the first time in almost a fortnight. May was reaching its end while June approached – the last month of the school year. They met, as always, on the bus stop, sat on the wide bench and talked, waiting for their ride to come. There wasn’t much to speak about. No new marks, no new teachers – everything was literally still, like the air before a storm. That could mean something unexpected, abrupt and spectacular was going to happen but not this time – it was a peaceful time, teachers worried only about those who needed to improve their grades. The rest, in which Michael, Anne, Lukas and Martine belonged, could just rest now for merely three weeks until the closing day, the day on which they would become graduates of the secondary school. “Look,” Martine said without any emotion, “the bus is finally here.” “At last,” murmured her friends like one. It wasn’t an unusual thing that bus came too late, it had happened a lot in the past. In truth, it had happened almost always since the first year of their secondary school, since they were freshmen. But that was three years ago, long past, the days they had never forgotten, though. It was hard to forget the first day in your new school. The weather hadn’t changed much as they rode towards the school. The sky was cloudless, heat filling the air, making it hard to breath. In the weather forecasts they had said it would only get worse with every day. It was going to be an unbearable summer, a lot of ice cream and drinks needed to survive. After extremely cold and sunless winter it should be a great relief to see a clear sky again, but Michael would be grateful if some rain had fallen. Especially on that day. After around twenty minutes the school emerged from the rest of the town’s buildings. It was an enormous edifice, looming over small stadium built for the pupils, its walls painted light-green in the upper parts and navy blue in the lower parts. Even though it was big, it didn’t make the people feel impressed, mainly because it was ugly–badly painted and covered with vandals’ graffiti on one of the walls. But it was their school and they had to like it–if they didn’t, they would go mad there. Besides, it had some advantages, like the long alley with trees alongside it, which gave much shadow, protecting them from the sun after another exhausting PE lesson. And the playground where not only the kids from the elementary school had spent their time, to be honest. As soon as they got out from the bus, they ran towards the building, Lukas in the lead and Martine in the rear of the group. In half a minute they managed to reach the school and change their shoes. Then they left for the first lesson–physics. Their physics teacher, Mrs. Antoinette Levinsky wasn’t a good one–she could barely know something about subjects which their textbook spoke about, so every lesson she would just make them do some exercises and read a newspaper or cosmetics catalogue.
Elethyr rode through the city on his black destrier. Buildings around him burnt with wild, green-and-blue fire. That weren’t normal flames usually seen after a battle. Spells gave birth to that fire, spells and dark words. It digested both lumber and stone. No matter how much water was thrown in it, the fire only grew larger and larger, flames touching even the highest towers. People ran away from the green death, screaming and exclaiming the names of their lost relatives. They seemed not to notice a mysterious armor-clad man in the middle of the road. Elethyr wasn’t accustomed to missions like that, but his lord gave him orders and he had to obey. Although he was a member of the First Brotherhood – a sellswords’ company – he never really enjoyed their presence. When they had a job to be done, Elethyr would always find and join them, but when they were just wandering about, he would rather find a sack of gold for his own. It almost always meant killing some unpleasant thieves for a local farmer and a few pennies in exchange. Times were tough and even killing wasn’t worth much more and he knew he wouldn’t live any longer without money. Three days had passed between the battle and that day and still not every citizen had gone away. Some of them believed their lord would save them, some didn’t want to leave their property. The rest would rather die than abandon Liyria – the city of their ancestors. Three days had passed and the flames were still as bright as in the beginning, gleaming with dark-green light that didn’t make the night ant lighter. The sorcerer who kindled the flames was hiding in his tower. People believed he ate human flesh and killed virgins for his gods’ sake. And Elethyr was about to kill the man. When he finally found the tower, he abruptly felt swirling in his stomach. He barely stopped himself from vomiting and opened the tower’s door. The sorcerer was right behind it. “Tell who sent you here or you will never be able to say anything at all,” he said, showing his yellowed teeth off. “Lord Farlan, if it pleases you,” Elethyr replied, putting his hand on the hilt of his long sword. “I’m here to give you justice for what you’ve done with the city.” “You think you can just walk in here and kill me?” The sorcerer gave him a wry smile. “Then you are wrong, my lad. Or should I call you–sir?” “I am no knight.” “Then die, warrior,” the wizard exclaimed. Elethyr saw flickering whiteness and then he fell into overwhelming dark pit.
The physics lesson ended so quick they barely noticed when the bell rang. They took their gazes off the textbooks and started packing. After physics in their schedule there was PE – locally called ‘the classes for running’. The Physical Education teacher was as engaged in teaching as Mrs. Levinsky. Every lesson Mr. Martin would just tell them to run in circles around the stadium (in winter around the exercise room), while he would talk on phone with some of his friends or read sport newspapers. PE and physics were two most lazy lessons of all. But that day they decided not to change and told Mr. Martin they couldn’t take part in the classes because they were ill. “All of you?” the teacher wondered. “Well, okay, then sit under the trees and try not to interrupt me.” And so they did, like if there were many other things to do on the stadium. If Mr. Martin let them play a game or do something different than sprint, they would eagerly participate, but running all the time made them sick. “What are we going to do for the rest of today?” Martine asked as they sat in the cold shadow. “I don’t want to go on another boring lesson.” “Yes, but what’s next?” Lucas still didn’t know the lessons schedule, even though it was almost the end of the school year. “History,” answered Anne with a hint of a smile on her face. Lukas’ weak memory would always amuse her. “Oh no!” Michael exclaimed, and then gasped heavily. “I forgot to do the homework. If he checks it, I’m done. He can’t see me unprepared for his lesson, otherwise he won’t give me an A. Quick, let’s do it now. Will you help me, guys?” The rest of them had then realized they haven’t done their homework too. It was dangerous with Professor Jablecki – one mistake with him could easily mean big troubles. Some of the students would say he had once grounded a pupil for not calling him ‘Professor’ but ‘mister’. He was probably the strictest teacher in the whole school, but the rest of the educators respected him and so did the pupils’ parents. He had been the only professor in their school since Mrs. Freeman retired nine years before. He would always use his high position to execute his commands even if they were not intelligent or needed enough. So Michael, Martine, Anne and Lucas got to work. They hoped one hour would be enough to write two-pages-long composition about the Napoleonic Wars. In their textbooks they didn’t say much about this subject, but somehow they managed to write a short introduce showing the silhouette of Napoleon and a brief description of the wars he had fought. “So… I think we’re done,” Michael stated finally. “I hope our works aren’t much similar to one another, otherwise we’re going to have a bad time.” “So do I,” Martine gasped with relief. “And we still have five more minutes to spend.”
“Maybe we could go in the town when the PE is over,” Lukas proposed, hoping the rest would welcome his idea happily. “I’d like to buy some soda and crisps for tonight. I’m organizing a movie marathon with my brother. All the Star Wars movies in just one night. It’s going to be so cool.” “Why not,” Anne agreed. “I have some pocket money with me so it’s not a bad idea. Michael, Martine, we should get round after the school and play some video games at my house. I’ve bought the newest Elder Scrolls! It’s the best, I’ve been playing it for almost a fortnight and I’m still not tired with it.” “Yes, I’m free today, so it’s going for me,” announced Michael with a grin. “And I still haven’t seen the latest Elder Scrolls game so I’m eager to play it with you.” While he said his final words, the bell abruptly rang and they could finally return to the school. They changed their shoes as quick as they could and went to the town, turning towards one of the groceries shops. The break lasted for only ten minutes, so they had to do their shopping fast and return for the history lesson. In the end they had four bags of crisps and two large bottles of soda. They could barely fit it to their backpacks but somehow they managed to do it. When they returned to the school, the heard he bell ringing again. History was coming.
The Prince rode through the woods surrounding his castle on his black mare, as always after the supper. The sun was almost hidden behind the horizon, but trees in the forest didn’t grow dense together so a lot of twilit light could get there, among trunks thin and thick, old and young, trunks of pines, willows and birches. Somewhere in the distant a stream flew, the noise it produced heard even from a long distance. Even though there was a chilly wind, the day had been warm from the first. Gusts of wind emerging from time to time were the only things that kept Valinar from sweating his expensive, gold-embroidered shirt. The men pushed the mare to run faster. On the turning of the sandy way he almost trampled a man lying on the road. “What?” the Prince exclaimed, shocked. “Why are you here?” he asked involuntarily and right then realized the men was wounded. Blood welled from his arm. At first Valinar thought he had fainted but his eyes were still opened and he breathed. The Prince was about to get off his mount, when everything exploded at once. The ground started shaking so fiercely that his mare stumbled and fell, trapping its rider under itself. Valinar gasped, not knowing what to do. He saw darkness but somehow managed not to pass out. He didn’t know whether it was just a nightmare or truth but the sky abruptly reddened, black circles opening on it. The black pits in the heavens were rounded with fire. Whole world became still for a short moment and then everything started to happen faster. Mountains around his castle became dust, trees were torn out of the ground, their roots looking like men arms. Plastic bottles started falling from the skies but before they touched the soil they turned into water. Water so hot it seemed to be boiling. In one second the water became blood and right after that it disappeared, only the scent left after it. Valinar was already dead but he could see all of this. “This is,” the God of All said, “what happens to the worlds I’m tired with or those which people don’t believe in me. I boil them in blood, change the laws of physics…Oh, you don’t know what physics is, but don’t mind that. You were always faithful so I’m going to give you a new life in a different world, maybe I’ll even give you possibility of choosing your next world. There is a wide choice of places where you could live from now. Some of them can even give you endless life, some provide strange but useful powers, some make you look handsome, some are filled with women, all beautiful and kind. You do not have to thank me for all of these things, I’m a generous god, after all. Also, there is a lot of people who I’m going to give the same gift I gave you.” “Thank you, my Lord,” Valinar answered right after the god had stopped talking. “You are too good for me. I swear I’ll choose wisely.”
They sat by a long wooden table set in the throne chamber by the servants. It was the first day of summer month and the king's twenty-fifth birthday. The feast had been prepared for almost a fortnight. The cooks made twenty-five meals, each from different region of the kingdom. The castle's housekeeper had tens of called minstrels, fire-eaters and acrobats who were to amuse the guest. The guests themselves were high lords and ladies from all over the world. In the throne chamber gathered representatives of every kingdom of both the continents. There were highborn from north with pale skin and wolf skin cloaks, noblemen of the south with skin as dark as mahogany, clad in cloaks of colorful feathers and plaited grass. You could hear every language and every accent, one more strange from another. Some kings and queens were there, too. And even the High Emperor of Kathair had come to the city, even though there was no doubt he had other important things to do. He quickly became the most important and the most attention-gaining person in the room, but the king whose birthday it was couldn't brag - having a guest like that would be only good for him. 'May I ask for your attention,' the king exclaimed, standing up and putting his hands up. 'We've gathered here to celebrate and feast, but it's not the only reason of this meeting. I would like to thank you all, my lords and my ladies, for finding time to come. Tomorrow, I'm going to give you an interesting proposition. But now, let the feast begin. I'm sure you're all hungry for food and amusement after your journeys, both long and short. I shall speak again after the first meal.' The guests started talking again, barely noticing the servants, who put sweet red wine, ale and brandy. Most of the men soon began drinking, some of them only a sip from time to time, some one full cup from time to time. Many things were subjects of their conversations: politics, bandits, and - as always among the highborn - gold. Elen listened to all of them; some were interesting for her, some were not. She was an envoy from a small duchy, dominium of Kathair Empire. The Emperor was her senior, to be strict, but she hadn't come with entourage. After another few minutes the first meal finally approached. Many of the highborn had been already drunk by the time, which didn't mean they couldn't eat. The sausage of a wild boar disappeared as quickly as it came. When the celebrating king prepared for another short speech, and the roomed was filled with deep silence, gathered people abruptly heard fierce coughing. It came from the mouth of the Great Emperor, Elen realized. He is choking, she thought. People that sat near the Emperor seemed scared, but every one of them tried to help the Emperor, even though they apparently did not know, what was needed to be done. After a while the Emperor died, strangled by a piece of food. Or by a poison, Elen wondered.
The horse balked before it rode into a rock laying on the road. Its skin was covered with long, sharp barbs after a trip through a bosk next to the village. Smoke billowed from the chimney of the only one inn in the neighborhood, blurred by delicate gusts of wind. Two whores stood by the inn’s door, brazen about their nudeness. Tristain often brooded about himself not becoming a men despite his age but he had been too shy to buy himself a whore, too honorable. His older brother never stopped boasting about all the women he had but Tristain didn’t care after all. He met the men in the stables. He had been feeding his horse. “You’re finally here, my boy,” he noticed obviously. “As you can see,” Tristain answered briefly, anxious about the conversation. Although the men seemed decent, he had been widely deemed dangerous and tricky. People didn’t want to trust him and if they talked with him, it was because they had no other choice. “Why did you ask me to come here? I don’t often make businesses with younglings but you seemed desperate. How can I help you, my lad?” “I have a problem with…with…with my powers,” Tristain replied. “What ‘powers’ are you talking about? I don’t want to have anything in common with magic or witchcraft, boy. You better explain yourself now or I’ll go to the town’s major and tell him about you-” “Stop talking!” Tristain exclaimed abruptly, not willing to be patient anymore. “It’s not witchcraft, you idiot,” he spoke with confidence that didn’t match him. “And you won’t tell anything anyone, because you are too apprehended that you will be jailed for your dark secrets. You surely won’t let anyone from the town council know. So shut up, you stupid cunt, and listen to me!” The men seemed shocked but he finally shut his mouth, letting the guest talk. He wasn’t accommodated to such an insolence, but one word about his ‘dark secrets’ compared with ‘town council’ would always make him silent. “My problem is that I have…an ability to listen to people’s thoughts,’ he explained unwillingly. “At first, it was greatly pleasant for me but now it became a big problem. Sometimes, especially in night, I hear all the people’s minds at once. Thousands, millions of them, not letting me sleep. I haven’t slept for almost a fortnight, that makes me feel so tired I can barely walk or ride a horse. I thought you might have something to make me sleep and to stop these strange visions. I do not only hear people’s minds, I can also read in minds of animals or trees. I can see the present, the future and the past,” he shrieked fiercely, putting his hands on his head. “I always have a headache, which does not let me talk to the others or to think about simple things. I started killing those, who do not want leave me when it gives me pain. I don’t want to kill anymore!” he cried. “Please, help me!” That sounded like begging but: “Otherwise I’ll murder you and burn the body…” did not.