Heavy Clouds

The subject of time is often spoken of by men with either too little or too much time on their hands. It’s virtue or curse molds each of us in intricate ways normally unbeknownst until we pause long enough to look back. Only then are the rivers and gorges that have been carved in our wake most obvious and appreciable. As I sit now beneath this tree that has withstood the test of time for more than a century I look back in awe at all that has happened in the last several years. As the breeze dances with the hair on my forehead and I brush it aside, I fondly recall the curly blonde locks on my own son’s head and how even those fine strands have given me cause to think.

My apparent wandering on Gor hasn’t been of my own design and has caused me to even doubt myself but to not learn from it would be most neglectful. Being accepted and trained as a Scribe has been a source of pride and has benefitted me well. A glance at my house beside the river, the bosk vulos outside and alluring bells of my slave as she tends to them attest to that truth. Even my recent companionship would likely had not happened without the good fortunes of my Caste. And yet, my education has created more questions for me than answers.

A man clings to his Home Stone with great vigor and gives his all to it and yet sometimes it is not enough. Cities fall and with them, they take a piece of you. For better or worse, some men find a new home and hardly miss a step while others struggle…searching. I have been in the latter group since the fall of Midas. The subsequent questioning and searching I’ve done since then has only created larger questions. I look in the mirror..and at my son…and I see how others look at me and I doubt even what I once knew to be true about my own past. Perhaps my childhood memories were but dreams or even fantasies.

Whatever the truth may be, this hiatus in my own duties while my companion is away on her own endeavors has given me the needed time to pour through the pile of scrolls left to me…though I do of course wonder how she is as I’ve not heard from her in over a month.

The Lock is Broken

Standing up and stretching my legs for what seemed like hours, I brushed the dead leaves and dust from the seat of my kilt and from beneath the laces of my sandals that ran up my calves. As I walked through the market, the aroma of fresh baked goods, ripe fruit and and steaming vegetables pulled at me but there was only one thing on my mind at the moment. Even the allure of the coin girls failed to register with me. Today and perhaps tomorrow, would be a turning point of which I was quite uncertain of where it might lead.

One Book Closes

Though I had given it a lot of thought, now that the collar was ready for me to pick up the clarity I had this morning had fleeted. I raised what little bit of the red fruit still remained of my lunch for the blacksmith to see and yelled back to let him know I’d be there as soon as I finished eating. I don’t know if heard me but he casually shook his head and waved back as he turned around and went back inside.

Karissa’s Story

CAPTURED

My head reeled with the rush of sensation as I came to and sat up quickly, looking around in wonder. The sound of voices speaking in a tongue I did not know assailed me. Taking deep breathes to stave off a return to unconsciousness, my nose twitched at the unfamiliar, spicy scent of the air. Attempting to raise myself from my position on the cold stone floor, I felt the unfamiliar weight of the heavy chain around my neck.

(more…)

Accidental Master

The afternoon sun fell quickly and with it darkness and cold moved in. Be11a was mostly quiet and moved very little after I ordered her to keep her weight off her ankle. She leaned up against a tree, seemingly relaxed though she would jump at the slightest rustling in the brush and look expectantly. I guessed that she was anticipating the familiar face of her Master and I hoped for the same thing but with each passing moment as darkness moved in I started losing faith.

Be11a

Brushing the fly away from the red fruit in my hand, I took the last bite and savored the sweetness that the fruit brings to your tongue after the initial sourness when the fruit is picked a bit early, not unlike the last two weeks with Be11a.

Awakening

The rhythmic pounding of the blacksmith’s hammer in the distance faded farther into the background with each gentle breeze that danced across my face. Even the unusually strong sun that brought drops of perspiration to the temples of the bloated figure selling red fruit from beneath the weathered canvas seemed to fade away beneath the solitary kalana tree that propped me up.