A Short Story (part 1)

While waiting for the dishwasher to finish cleaning every singly glass so that I can get one to fill with some water, I’ve decided to type out an improved short story.

Once upon a time, there was Frank. Frank wasn’t too bright, but he knew wrong from right. Frank wasn’t too strong, but he could pull his own weight along. The villagers he lived with called him “the average Frank,” but he didn’t mind. He didn’t care what others thought about him, because he knew something none of them did. He knew he was special.

He could feel something special coursing through him, but he didn’t know what it was. He could feel it through the hot days and the cool nights. He could feel it in his fingers and toes. Yes, there was indeed something very special about Frank. He wanted to ask somebody about this feeling, but he never knew his parents, and was born an only child.

He was raised by a peasant that had found him by the village well. They were kind to him, teaching him everything they knew (which wasn’t a lot), and made sure he knew how to work. Finally when Frank became an adult, Hank (the peasant) told him about his mysterious origins, and also told him that there was a world to be discovered if only he dared to venture into the unknown. Frank decided he must do so in order to discover his own unknown past, and so left the village with nothing but a knife, three days worth of food, a small tent, and a tiny set of flint and steel for fire.

There was only one road out of the village, but nobody dared to go down that road in fear of the thick forest that surrounded it for many miles, blocking out the sunlight. Death’s Trail it was called, and if anybody went down that road, they never came back. They tried making other paths through the forest, and everybody but a brave few ever was swallowed by the overwhelming forest. Only a brave few have ever made it through to the outer world and back again, but those men are too old to travel anymore, and so the little village has rested in the middle of the forest, living off of it and each other.

Death’s Trail had always spiked Frank’s curiousity, and he wasn’t known to be afraid of anything (except for spiders….he absolutely hated spiders), so he began his journey through Grim’s Gate and onto Death’s Trail.

Well the dishwasher is done now, so I have to get off. I’ll continue this another day.