Tales from Drunswick

[Yukki Kazuto]

I examined the list that I was slowly working my way through. I had already finished the first two tasks, to fetch the daily bucket of water, and to repair a tear in the screen of our screen door. My third task was to sweep the sand that was all over the house out of it. After rummaging around in the living room closet for a while, I found the old broom that we kept for sweeping.


I started in the back rooms first, so, my bedroom and my grandfather’s bedroom. As these rooms were further away from the source of the sand entering the house, there was only a small pile of sand in each room. THey were both swept into the hallway, which was quickly swept as well. At this point, the pile was of a moderate size, and I swept it up into a dustpan and dumped it outside.


I continued my sweeping, cleaning the bathroom, kitchen, living room, guest room, and for good measure, the basement. After making sure I hadn’t missed anything, my trusty pen created a mark next to the third item on my list. I was over halfway done!


The fourth task on my list was the hardest one I had dealt with yet. That was typically how they go. The easiest tasks first, with the more time consuming ones later in the day. That way, if I ran out of daylight to do my work, I had still done at least a few of the chores.


The fourth responsibility that I had been tasked with was to fix a hole in the ceiling of the house. It wasn’t a huge problem right now, but we were worried that if a sandstorm kicked up, it would cover the entire interior of the house in a compressing layer of sand. I made sure my remaining coin was in my pocket, and went back out to the market.


At this point it was a little later in the day, and it was nearing sunset. The market was half closed, and the people still there were desperately trying to rid themselves of their material wares. It took a little bit of searching, and after a few failed bargains, I found someone willing to sell me a handful of ceiling tiles for my remaining coin.


By the time I return to my dusty, but sand free, house, it was very late in the sun’s cycle. Over the horizon of sand dunes the sun sat, lowering slowly behind the distance, turning the sky different shades of scarlets and oranges. I watched in earnest as the sun disappeared. I noticed as a black figure seemed to come out of the sun.

Confused, I leaned forward, hanging off the room to try to get a better look. That’s when several more figures appeared, and I understood what was happening. I jumped off the roof, and landed on the sand hard. “Ring the bell! Bandits incoming from the west!” I began limping into the house, seemingly having injured my leg. In the center of town, a bell began ringing in panic, and the town began mustering their weapons. My grandfather rushed in the door, wheezing, trying to catch his breath.


“Damien! Get the rifle!” My grandfather wheezed at me. I stopped where I stood.

“Grandfather, I’ve never shot the rifle in a combat situation before!” It was true, I had only shot it a few times at still targets.


“Well I can’t shoot the damned thing! Get up to the roof with it! Go!” He yelled at me before collapsing on the floor. In a frenzied panic, I grabbed the rifle off the wall and the little box next to it, and scrambled up the ladder to the roof.

What ever happened to just doing my chores peacefully?