SCARRED; The Dark Tower

Chapter One: The Cloaked Men

News spread fast in Largone of the child born with the scar. Everyone had a different opinion on what the scar meant. Some believed that it meant the child was a witch; some thought that it meant that the child was cursed; and some thought it had something do with some sort of legend that had spread to their town long ago. 

Jerrick grew up with eyes following him suspiciously, whispers speaking secretly as he passed by, and children treating him strangely. The scar grew all the more visible as Jerrick grew older, and by the time he was twelve, he could hardly even hide his scar behind his hair.  

Jerrick's parents didn't have any other children. Jerrick's mother told him that it was because he was such a handful; and Jerrick believed her. He never meant to get into trouuble, but trouble always seemed to find him. For instance, when he was four and his mother had taken her eyes off him for just a minute, he had run across the road and had nearly been killed by some stampeding cows. "It was a surprise you made it out of there," His mother said when recounting the incident to Jerrick years later. 

Another time, when Jerrick was seven, he had been cleaning his father's horse and when his mother had come outside, she had found him up on the roof of the house. Jerrick could not remember how and why he had done this. He did recall, however, seeing a glimpse of something up there that he could not name.

Some other incidents that convinced Jerrick's parents that one child was enough was all the times he had gotten into trouble with other children, and all the times he had disappeared for hours at a time - once even a full day! - just to show up again unharmed. 

Jerrick himself could not explain all these incidents. In fact, he could not remember half of the incidents that his mother told him about. He never told his mother that he remembered none of the stories she recounted to him, however. Whenever she asked him whether he remembered something, he would simply nod; whenever she asked him how he had gotten up onto the roof, he would simply say he climbed; and whenever she asked him where he had gone all those times that he had disappeared, he would just tell her that he had gotten lost while wandering around in the forest near town.  

The only thing that troubled Jerrick more than the strange stories his mother told him about was his scar. Jerrick spent a lot of time looking in the mirror in his bedroom and staring at his scar. His scar cause him many troubles and he knew that his parents were slightly ashamed by his scar - although they tried to hide it. Their reputation in the town had faltered when he had been born, and he knew it. Jerrick knew that the people of Largone were extremely superstitious and gullible, and believed that he was some witch child or something of the sort. And he could not help but hate them for it. 

Nearly everyone around Jerrick watched him as he made his way across the road toward his father's stables. He tried to ignore their stares, but he felt his face burning as he passed. 

"Did you bring the saddle?" His father asked as soon as Jerrick entered the stables. He had his back facing toward Jerrick, and was hanging up a feed sack for his horse, Stevius. 

"Yes," Jerrick replied, holding up the saddle and walking toward his father. 

"Thank you, Jerrick," His father said as he took the saddle from Jerrick and put it up on the wall of Stevius's stall. He had sent Jerrick to pick up the saddle from Styrus, who he had payed to make it. His father was often sending Jerrick to run errands. But Jerrick did not mind, for it helped him get things off his mind. 

Jerrick was now fifteen and his father was always laying responsibilities on him.  

"Did Styrus give you any trouble?" Asked his father, getting out his horse brush and combing his horse.