The Pillar of Adam

Chapter 1

Dear diary,

Today was a long and grueling day, much like every other day in our small village of Sheebsville. As I sat at the kitchen table with my parents, I couldn't help but feel a deep sadness for our circumstances. My mother and father work tirelessly to make ends meet, but no matter how hard they try, it never seems to be enough. I often go to bed hungry, my stomach growling in protest, and I can see the same hunger reflected in my parents' eyes.

But despite the hardships, I am a dreamer. I have big plans for my future and I dream of a life of wealth and adventure, far away from the poverty that has plagued us for as long as I can remember. I have heard tales of great heroes who have left their humble beginnings behind and become powerful warriors and mages, and I long to be like them. To escape the oppression of poverty and forge my own path in the world.

As I finished my meager meal and said goodbye to my parents, I stepped out into the busy streets of Sheebsville. The sun was setting and the sky was painted with brilliant hues of orange and pink. I wandered aimlessly, lost in thought, taking in the sights and sounds of the village. Children were playing in the streets, laughing and shouting as they chased each other in a game of tag. The smell of roasted meats and fresh bread wafted through the air, making my empty stomach growl with hunger.

But my peaceful musings were soon interrupted. I heard a strange noise coming from a dark alleyway, and I felt a prickling sensation at the back of my neck. Curiosity getting the better of me, I stepped into the alley, only to come face to face with a hooded figure.

The figure was tall and shrouded in a dark cloak, with a hood that obscured its face. It stood still and silent, its eyes hidden in the shadows. I felt a chill run down my spine as I took a step back, my heart pounding in my chest. Suddenly, the figure spoke, its voice low and menacing. "Those who tread in the way of Adam shall follow" it said.

I was frightened by such cryptic words, but I stood my ground, determined not to show it. I asked the figure who it was, but it didn't answer. Instead, it stepped forward, its cloak rustling ominously, and I took off, running back towards my home.

Now, as I lay in the straw pile in my humble home, I am filled with fear and unease. I cannot shake the feeling that I am being watched and that my encounter in the alleyway was only the beginning of something much more sinister. Who was that hooded figure? Why did it seem so threatening?

These questions haunt me as I try to fall asleep. I fear for what the future may bring, but I also hold onto the hope that one day I will find the answers and escape the poverty that surrounds me.

The early morning sun filters through the cracks in our cottage's wooden shutters, illuminating the small room I share with my parents. I rise from my bed and make my way over to the kitchen, the worn wooden floorboards creaking beneath my feet.

I start a fire in the stove and begin to make breakfast for my family, trying my best not to disturb my mother's peaceful slumber. My thoughts wander to my parents and their stories, the memories of my childhood woven within theirs.

My father, a rugged man with calloused hands from years of working at the blacksmith's forge, grew up in Sheebsville. He was raised in poverty, just like the rest of us in this town. Despite the hardships he faced, he was determined to make a better life for himself and for his future family. He started as a young apprentice at the forge, working long hours to hone his skills. Eventually, he became an assistant blacksmith and provided for our family.

My mother, on the other hand, was a foreigner. She came from a distant land, seeking refuge from an unknown conflict. She settled in Sheebsville, where she met my father. Despite the language barrier and cultural differences, they fell in love and started a family together. Her exotic features and gentle demeanor stood out in our town, but she was accepted and loved by all who knew her.

Just as I finish making breakfast, there's a firm knock on our front door. I quickly make my way to answer it, my heart racing with excitement and a hint of nervousness. I wonder who it could be, visiting us so early in the morning. As I pull the door open, I'm met by a tall figure, dressed in the uniform of the Kingdom's army.

Yours,

Thomas ▇▇▇