Blind Dove in a Basin

Entry 1

As every proper story needs an equally proper beginning, our story will start in the duchy of Densworth.

I was born on a farm in the small village of Dinselwood, eight miles out of the borough of Pissio where the wealthy Von Peepee family dwelt. My parents were yeomen and owned a small piece of land where they grew crops and herded cattle. My family was by no means well-off, however, life on the farm was quite peaceful, and we made ends meet.

My father was an amazing man. Although we had employed the services of a dozen peasants to labour on the fields, he had still brought it upon himself to inspect the soil every day, sowing the seeds and reaping in the week's yields. He paid his workers a beyond fair share of earnings and made sure their families would not have to worry about limited rations. Aside from his duties on the farm, he was also a well-respected man within the village, having served as the former chief of enforcement within Dinselwood, and was responsible for training the village guards.

Mother was just as remarkable. She was not born in Densworth but came from a well-educated background in a foreign land. Dad always referred to her as Princess, despite the fact we were not of noble blood. She worked as a tutor to the dukedom of Dalennvale and had to leave home often. When my mother did come home, she would bring back many stories: tales she heard from the locals or interesting encounters during her employment at the royal house. My mother would recite these stories to me before bed, and I recall her sweet voice echoing through the shabby lodge as if she were singing verses from a ballad.

My parents loved each other deeply, and they were not afraid to show it. Once, when I was still a toddler, I went looking for my parents after finishing the Epic of the Poopman. My mom had just returned from her work trip to enjoy a rare break with the whole family, so she and Dad were enthusiastic to see each other.

I had heard loud creaking sounds coming from upstairs, and it led me to their bedroom door. However, just before I could enter, one of the maidservants patrolling the upper floors hurried me back downstairs, rescuing my childhood innocence. Despite my curiosity, I trusted my intuition and did not squeak a word about what I'd heard from my parents. Naturally, once I entered my rebellious teenage years, I came to understand exactly what sort of joyous activities my parents had been up to in their room.

My childhood was a cheerful one, quite rare for the kids in the village. Despite how busy my parents were, I was often accompanied by servants who fed, clothed, and oversaw my education within the farm estate. My mother was good friends with a portly scholar named Henson who owned a small bochord within Dinselwood. It was here that I would spend the early portion of my youth in solitude, reading all about the magical travels of Lacus the mage, studying ancient history, and most importantly, analysing the magic tomes stolen from Henson's locked cellar. Due to my parents' frequent absence, I never had a person I could truly call my mentor, but thinking back now my one true mentor was the reading sanctuary I had confined myself to as a young tyke.

After turning 7, I got sent to a school inside the village as the servant who had been my tutor had to leave for his pregnant wife, to which my father was sure to compensate him well.

School life was tough. I had trouble adjusting to the loud, bustling environment, and my relationship with the teachers grew foul as I found their useless obsession with obedience annoying.

I hated one teacher in particular, Mr. Durnen. He was by no means a bad teacher, far from it. His classes were quite extensive—although looking back now, they were much too advanced for any regular 7-year-old—he held an inviting yet stubborn attitude in ensuring every student was taking his classes seriously. His over-enthusiasm with getting our focus conflicted with my passion for reading, and his obnoxiously loud prating diverted my attention from the books I borrowed at Henson's bochord. More often than not, I would find myself clenching my adolescent gnashers as I watched him walk away with my confiscated books.

The teachers weren't the only thing I hated about school, however. I was not a social child, and I had very few people I could consider friends throughout most of my youth. Occasionally, Mr. Durnen would call upon a worthy student to re-explain the contents of the day's class. Uncoincidentally, I turned out to be his favourite student, and he was not unwilling to shower me with gratitude in the form of a representative speech. And so I would be brought up to the scaffold awaiting my execution under the prying gaze of the spectators below. Sneering looks and taunting remarks catapulted my way as I stood there in shame, desperately scavenging for memories of the day's lesson.

During recess, I would be picked on by a group of boys led by the feared Paul the Pantshitter. He was infamous within the community for defecating in his pants after ruthlessly beating up his victims in a fist-to-fist fight. His brawn was as tactile as his farts were smelly, and he had already become the king of the school, with even the older grades fearing his mighty faeces slam.

I had made the grand mistake of ignoring him on the first day, and since then on, I became his toilet flusher and was tasked with the dishonourable duty of cleaning the poop stains off the toilet bowl after his explosive shits. They gave me the nickname of "Vindick Pottymer" because of this.

Paul and his gang were unrelenting, and they made my school life hell. Paul had two generals, Kris Patty and Clara Bollocks, and they were his most trusted aides. Every day after school, Clara would send her lackeys to retrieve me from the classroom, escorting me to the schoolyard. There, I was subject to countless beatings, and sometimes, the general would personally take it upon herself to spank me with a stick in front of the gang to see. It was one of the most humiliating experiences of my life, and it quickly grew into a routine.

Entry 1 end.

I know the ending seems a bit abrupt, it was getting too long and I couldn't foresee a proper ending occurring any time soon. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this week's (month's???) chapter, I don't want to write anymore for at least another week, c u all whenever!!!
P.S. will anyone even read my work lmfao