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Blue Boy

By @giannu


It’s early in the morning. Its a new day.

Blue boy is leaving the cottage.

“Well this is it, boy…” said the old drifter.

The snow fell softly around them.

“So one more time you’re gonna go east, and the…” he said.

“There will be the stone walls to the city, ‘I can’t miss em’, yeah, I know.” I interrupted.

“…Thanks again, Vega.”

“Ah you don’t gotta thank me.”

A silent understanding fell over us.

“I’ll be off, then.”

Vega watched the blue boy for only a few seconds before receding back into his home. The old drifter stood behind his door looking at his empty home. He walked into his room going straight to the drawer beside his bed. He picks up a picture frame, its a photo containing a younger Vega, his hand on the head of a young boy. Vega observes the young boy’s serious expression. And just like that, you’re gone again.

I felt ready. This was something else. I traverse the forest and look back. The cabin is far from my view, hidden behind rows of white trees, the ones which you can’t see the tops. It’s time to push forward.

It’s still early in the morning, a light fog covers the area. The air is fresh. I climb over logs, bridge over a river, then sit on a rock to enjoy my lunch. I packed black tea in a thermos and numerous waffle sandwiches, pork and maple syrup between two waffles, which is my creation (Vega’s mind was blown). I had a light chuckle and stared at the clouds for a bit, taking my time on a sandwich.

I take my leave continuing east. As the forest starts to clear up, I find several large chunks of cracked stone with symbols carved into them. I’m getting near to the city. Many ancient pieces from rusty man-made machines to curious relics are left behind, scattered along the path. 

As I get near, I notice that the wall is not very tall and the gate is old. A tired pike guard is posted on the wall looks down towards me. I’m not too sure what I hope to find in this town but I know it starts here. 

“What’s yer business ‘ere?” the guard yells from the wall.

“I’m just passing through!”

“We don’t get too many visitors, ya know? RAISE THE GATE! Don’t cause us trouble, boy. I’ll have yer head on this ‘ere pointy stick!” he shows me his old wooden pike.

“Oh, and welcome, kid”

The town is relatively large. The smell of warm bread fills the air. It’s lunchtime. I scan the nearby apartment buildings. It’s livelier then I expected. I head over to the opposite side of the buildings and manage to find myself in the marketplace. 

The marketplace lines two sides of a small street, its filled with locals, its busy, but not crowded. Children are running after each other, mothers carry their fat toddlers as they buy tonights dinner, workers lug bags of produce. I toss a quarter at the fruit vendor and grab myself an apple. I take a big bite.

“Oi kid. You from around here?” the elderly vendor asks.

“No, just passing through,” I say still chewing.

“Nice day, ain’t it?”

The sun feels good. I spend a few minutes enjoying my apple, watching the crowds go by.

He’s right it is a nice day.

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