Execrable - An Original Story (Chapter 3!!)

My first story ever to be on Quibblo!! :D

Chapter 1

Truth

I didn't want to believe the truth, even though I knew it was true. It seemed like it was all over for me. I didn't have anything left. Wasn't I old enough to fend for myself?

I sat on the upholstery couch that was no longer mine, fingering the loose threads on the armrest. I looked around at the home I used to have. The smooth wooden countertops were littered with crumbs from this mornings breakfast of toast, topped with butter and strawberry preservatives. The table stood in the small dining area, the chairs wobbly and unstable. Our beds were on the other corner of the small house, the sheets ripped and yellowed from age. This was all I had. It was an old house with nothing worth any value in it. Yet I loved it. This is where I had spent my days with my mother. And now, it was gone. My mother had disappeared at eight o'clock this morning, and left me with nothing. Not a single coin. There was no food in the bare cupboards. There hadn't been for a long time.

I left the small abandoned house and made my way through the empty streets. Exact copies of my house outlined the street. None of them were unique or special. Same two windows on both sides of the small door. Same straw roof and wooden chimney. Your basic, one room house. Yet, it was a home. A home to live and grow in. A home to sleep in after a long hard day working. A home where you could cherish in and call your own. The memories flooded back to me all at once.

I remembered learning to read in that same small house, sitting on the chair near the table and struggling to read the word 'fox', my legs swinging under the table. My mother would come near me every once and a while, wiping her hands covered with flour from making bread to sell. We would go through the words together, her saying the word slowly and then me repeating it. After a long day of learning, she would carry me to my little bed and tuck me in.

"You're going to be such a smart young man," she would say, kissing my forehead softly.

I would stare up at her, my blue eyes widening; "Are you sure I can do it?"

"Don't ever regret yourself," she would say, "Nothing's impossible if you tell yourself you can do it."

"I can do it," I whispered out loud. I could live without her if I tried. I was a young man now at sixteen years old. I should be done relying on other people to help me. Yet a part of me ached for someone I could trust. I didn't have any other friends. I was a hard worker, strict and serious. For some reason, that didn't appeal to other people my age.

It was a sunny morning. The weather was cool, yet not too cold and the wind was blowing softly. I should be trying to find a job by now, or doing something productive. Yet, I walked without any direction or a place to go.

Before I knew it, I was in the bustling market place. Children ran around freely, no one to tell them what to do or where to go. A small old lady sold fresh mangoes and berries at a booth nearby. My mouth watered at the sight of them. I hadn't eaten all morning. But what would I pay the lady? I had nothing.

I walked along. The small inns and shops stood outside of the market, warm and welcoming. What was I doing here? I was nothing but a peasant. I didn't have a rank or reputation. Strong young man and wealthy ladies brushed past me as if I were invisible. I might as well have been.

My life was slow but calm. I wasn't a daredevil who did reckless things without thought. The worst I had ever done before was swipe a small piece of bread from a booth when my mother and I hadn't had a bite to eat in three days. At only seven, I had been ashamed of myself for days because my mother always told me that stealing was an unforgivable crime.

I walked along, lost in thought. Could I return home? My own mother had abandoned me. Our monthly rent was almost due. No, I decided. I couldn't. For the rest of the afternoon, I walked around the market place, begging and searching for a coin someone had dropped. It wasn't long before night fell, and I decided to sleep at a cheap inn. The price was only three coins a night. I had eight.

I walked inside, the murky smell of ale in the air. The reception area was dimly lit and poorly cleaned. There were stains on the walls and smoke from cigars floating around. Thieves and drunk men were seated at tables. I rented my room and made my way up the stairs. As soon as I had unlocked the door, I collapsed on the uncomfortable, creaky bed. It wasn't long before I feel asleep.

I woke up to the sound of shouting. I looked around me, panicked. I could see nothing but darkness. Suddenly, I felt a cold metal touching my hand. I looked down. A knife splattered with fresh blood lay beside me, the blade just touching my hand. My eyes finally adjusted to the darkness. That's when I saw the body.

Laying a few feet away from me was my mother, dead. It took a second for my mind to work. Then it was all clear. The knife in my hand. My mother's body only feet away from me. Had I killed her?

Something banged on my door. My heart beat wildly. The door flew open and revealed four or five guards, their weapons out. They looked deadly in their fine armor.

"Richard Callisino?" A guard asked, his voice tense.

I could barely speak. The question rang in my head over and over. Had I killed her?

"Yes," I whispered.

"Richard Callisino, you're under arrest for murder."

Thank you for reading!! Constructive criticism is highly appreciated!!

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