Hounds Of Hell

cнαpтer 1

I was born at 8 pounds and 8 ounces. Black haired, brown eyed, and the mirrored son of my mother. My mother was a kind-hearted woman, soft spoken in conversation and fierce in her ambition. She was guided by her morals and held true to the upbringing her parents dedicated their lives to impress upon her. My first cry was strong, my heartbeat rhythmic.

I was the final son of my father, King Mareth of West Worcester Ending.

The kingdom of which I drew my first breath was the shining testament to mankind's endurance. A phoenix born from the ashes of the war that caused drought, famine, destruction, death, and the end of modern society and the technologies that came with it. Our kingdom was advanced. It's culture as rich as it's heritage of blended races and ethnicitys. We celebrated our differences and lived as one through our uniqueness. 

All of that changed when my uncle decided he'd acquire the throne........

A Lonely Shopkeeper

"That'll be $3.95." I say. The poor old woman looks through her purse digging in it for whatever money she has. "I'm sorry, I think I left my money at home." She says returning her eyes to me through her bifocals. "Well since I already cut the slices I'll let you have them on credit. You can pay me when you can" I reply. I wrap the ham slices in parchment and saran wrap before handing them off to her. "Thank you young man, I'll never forget you." She says bowing and cupping my hand in hers. I smile as she rushes away to return home. I write down the potential sale in my records. One potential sale is all I've had in the last two days. Sure sales have always been abysmal but I'm barely even making enough to buy livestock at this point. Speaking of.....

"I'll take this one." I say patting the pig. "Just one today, not your usual 3?" Farmer Dave asks. An honest man never to be seen without a stick of hay in the corner of his mouth, and sporting one of his many pairs of overalls and flannel shirts. "I can't afford two more." I reply. He looks at me with an expression I'm all too used to. "Things bad down there?" He asks. "No sales." I answer. "You know there's always room for a strong young fella like you on my farm." He offers. I laugh and stuff my hands in my pockets, "Maybe one day Dave, maybe one day." I say. "Suit yourself." He replies. He puts a collar on the pig and I pay him the $100 dollars I bargained. "Thank ya, come back soon." He says counting the money. "I'll try." I reply. I follow the forested path home and usher the pig into the pen with the other 2 I have left. $100 is fairly steep but I can profit $300 off each if they don't go bad before I can sell them. That includes my occasional ham sandwich. I have a fairly good amount of animals on my farm. 10 goats, 3 pigs, 2 cows, 12 chickens. No horses. I can't make money off selling horse meat in my deli, though I've gotten requests. Being a butcher and merchant isn't an easy job but it's amongst the best since the war ended.

I take the rest of the groceries inside and sit the fresh eggs in the container I fashioned, adjusting them for presentation in the process. "Hey can I get aaaaa...." A woman says squinting to read my sign. "Pack of swiss equal parts ham." She eventually says. "Coming right up." I reply. I start preping the order whilst catching glances at her. "What?" She asks noticing. "I haven't seen pink hair before." I say light heartedly. "It's natural. Runs in my family I guess. Is your food organic?" She asks. "Nope, I got it fresh from the factory." I joke. She laughs, "I like you. I'm Sasha, Banks." She introduces. I shake her hand, "Tyler, Black." I answer. "Cool." She says. "So you own this place by yourself?" She asks. "Yup, its just me." I answer slicing the ham. "No Mrs. Black?" She asks. "Not getting flirty or anything." She clarifies. I shrug, "Dating isn't really my thing." I reply. I wrap the ham and swiss cheese separately and weigh them. "That'll be $7.99." I say. She hands me a $10 bill and I give her change. "You don't sell sliced bread?" She asks scanning the shelves. "I did until they expired, now I don't have the resources to make more." I answer. "I got some full loaves I could slice for extra." I offer. "How much?" She asks. "$5 for a sliced loaf, of course it would cost more if you bought buttermilk. It's really popular." I explain. "I kinda only have $2 left, what can I get for that?" She asks. I look around, "A half loaf I guess, it's fresh but it's been sitting around for a while." I answer. "Sliced?" She asks. "I don't know....." I say in consideration.

"Mmm this is so good. I haven't had ham and cheese sandwiches in years." Sasha says wiping her mouth. I smile and fold my arms. Another happy customer. "You know you don't look like the guys around here, you from somewhere else?" She asks. "Capital City." I answer. "Oooh see I could've guess that." She says. "How?" I ask curiously. "It's the only city in America with running power and actual water sources. No offense but it's kinda bourgie up there." She answers. "I guess that's true compared to everywhere else I've been." I reply. I think back to my travels, specifically how decimated everything was.

"Whoa, space out much?" Sasha says. "Just thinking about some things." I reply. "A butcher and a deep thinker. You're just a basket of contradictions." She says. "How?" I ask. "I'm sure you already know." She answers. The town church bell sounds signaling dusk. "And that's my cue to get my butt home." She says. She rewraps her ham and cheese and slides her arms into her jacket. "Don't you have to get home too?" She asks. "Gotta close up, I'm sure there's not much out there I can't deal with." I answer with an honest smirk. "Brave man." She says.

"Thanks for coming in." I say as she leaves. She smiles and salutes.