Chapter 3 - BrokenThe world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places.
-Ernest Hemingway The golden rays of sunlight rose over the town surrounding the castle of Locum Populo as a new day dawned. The world was cleansed after the rainstorm, but Vastius was anything but clean. His eyes fluttered awake as the warm beams of sunlight hit his face. He felt empty, alone, and broken. He sat up, exhaling dramatically. Vastius banged his head against the side of the building behind him, causing his head to ache. “I thought this was all a bad dream.” He said, groaning. “But alas! My fate is still the same.” Standing up, Vastius began to wander the streets, searching for something, anything to eat. As he walked up and down the streets, he observed the people he once ruled over. If anyone even looked at him, they glared. A few people even called out at him, calling him rude names and cursing at him. Vastius finally sat down, leaning against a worn down wooden shack. A small girl played nearby, playing with a corn husk doll. The tiny doll was simple, made of only a corn husk and a scrap of fabric. The girl had nothing but the small doll, yet she was happy, cheerily playing in the sunshine. It was a sweet sight, and Vastius couldn't help but smile at the little girl's happiness. The girl noticed Vastius staring at her, and walked up to him. “Are you ok?” she asked him. “You look hungry. Do you want some food?” “Yes, I would like that,” he said. “What is your name?” “Charity.” The girl said. “I’ll go get you some bread.” Charity entered the worn down shack, skipping into the tiny building. She soon emerged with a piece of bread, fresh out of the oven. Walking back over to Vastius, she handed the bread to him. “What happened to you?” She asked him. “A lot has happened to me,” Vastius said. “My family disowned me, left me on my own.” “That's so sad.” Charity said. “Do you need someone to help you?” “Probably,” he said. “Well, I heard my mommy and daddy talking about a guy over in the next town. They said he helps anyone who needs it. You should go visit him.” Charity said. “I bet he would love to help you!” “How can I find this man?” he asked. “My parents said he finds you.” Charity responded. “Alright then, I shall seek out this man. Thank you Charity, for your kindness. I shan't forget you.” Vastius said, standing up. “I hope you find him, mister!” Charity said as he started down the road. The sun was hot as Vastius traveled the road to the next town. As the rays of light beat down on him, Vastius’s skin started to burn. Fields of golden grain sprawled across the landscape, stretching for miles in every direction. There were rows of bushes lining the road, and the occasional tree providing shade. As Vastius journeyed on, he heard a rustle in the bushes. Vastius came to a stop, cautiously looking around for what caused the noise to the side of the stone paved road. “Who’s there?” He called out. He thought he heard voices whispering from the bushes. Walking closer to the sound, Vastius peered into a nearby bush. A set of eyes stared back. Before he could even react, men dressed in tattered clothes surrounded him. They all held a variety of weapons, from clubs to daggers, they were all armed. “Well, what have we here? A royal out all on his own?” The words came from a taller man. He wore some slightly nicer clothes than the other men, but he was equally dirty. A wave of chatter moved amongst the men. A few began to make threatening gestures towards Vastius. “Now hold on, I’m sure we can settle this peacefully,” Vastius said. “What do you want? Food? A pardon?” “Nah, we don't need any of that. We want everything you got, ain't that right boys?” The leader said. In response, the men chattered excitedly. “I don’t have anything you could want. I’m not even royalty anymore.” Vastius said desperately. “Do you think we’re blind, huh? Think we can’t see those fancy clothes and rings on your fingers?” The tall man said. “Get him, boys. Take everything he’s got.” The men converged on Vastius. They started to hit him with the clubs, beating his flesh with the blunt sticks. A few men ripped his rings off his fingers, pulling until they came off. They stripped Vastius down to his underwear, continuing to beat him violently. Someone punched him in the eye, knocking the Ex-prince out cold. Once they were done, the men left Vastius on the side of the road. Exposed to the burning sun, bruised, battered, and possessionless, Vastius was left for dead.
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Chapter 2 - Refused“I’m a true believer in karma. You get what you give, whether its bad or good”
-Sandra Bullock Ex-prince Vastius sat against the wall of the castle, his head in his hands, crying. He was alone, hungry, and deeply shaken. He was so mad at his father, the King, for throwing him out. What had he done to deserve this? It was all that dumb Blacksmith’s fault! Eventually, Vastius ran out of tears to cry. He laid his head against the cold stone wall of his father's castle. As he sat, his stomach began to grumble, and pangs of hunger ran through Vastius. “I must have something to eat,” Vastius said to no one in particular. Vastius stood up and looked around. He had been on this street earlier in the day, and it had been crowded. Now, hardly anybody was on the street. Vastius started down the street, looking for someone with food. Soon, he could smell the delicious scent of freshly baked bread. He followed the sweet smell to a small house halfway down the street. The home was simple, made of stacked stone bricks and a thatch roof. Vastius knocked on the simple wooden door. It opened and an elderly woman opened the door. “Can I help you?” the woman asked. “Yes, you can,” Vastius said. “I simply must have some of that delicious smelling bread you are making.” “Are you hungry you poor boy? Here, let me get you some.” the woman said as she turned back into the house. As she left the doorway, Vastius could see into the room. There, sitting in a chair, was the Beggar Vastius had met earlier in the day. The Beggar instantly recognized Vastius. He stood up and walked over to the elderly woman. “Ma’am, if I may, I must tell you something.” the Beggar said. “What is it dearie?” the woman asked. “You should not give that man any food.” the Beggar said. “Why? Should I not help those in need?” the woman said. “That man has no need. He is Prince Vastius, the Kings spoiled son. He has not a need in the world that is not taken care of.” the Beggar said. The elderly woman furrowed her brow as she considered this information. She turned back to the door and walked up to Vastius. “I am sorry, but I don’t have enough food for you.” the woman said to Vastius. “What do you mean you don’t have any food for me?” Vastius said. “I can see the loaf of bread right there behind you! And I see you, Beggar! What lies have you told this woman?” The Beggar walked up to the door. “I told her no lies, only the truth. That you are a selfish, narcissistic, and spoiled little brat.” the Beggar said. “Lies!” Vastius exclaimed. “I am so hungry, you must give me food!” “If you are going to act like this, you can leave.” the woman said. “Goodbye.” The elderly woman slammed the door shut in Vastius’s face. “You will pay for this!” Vastius cried. “You will all pay for this! Now somebody give me some food!” People emerged from their homes, curious at what was causing all the ruckus. Vastius began to yell at them, telling the people to get him food. One by one, the people recognized him for doing one thing or another to them. The children who's ball he’d thrown on the roof told their parents not to give him anything. The Blacksmith and his apprentice turned away and told their neighbors to leave him alone. Eventually, no one was left, leaving Vastius alone once more in the streets. Vastius threw himself to the ground and started to wail and cry out. He rolled around in the street, begging for food. In the distance, there was a loud thunderclap and a flash of light. The dark clouds lit up with lightning. Water began to pour down on the town surrounding the castle. The rain drenched Vastius, and the dirt road turned to mud beneath him. Once again, Vastius was left alone. Vastius wallowed in self-pity as he lay in the street. He crawled over to a nearby overhang, trying to get out of the cold rain. The Ex-prince slumped against the side of a building. Tired and hungry, he began to shiver from the cold. He began to cry for the second time that day, mad at the world for shutting him out. Why did people have to be so cruel? What had he ever done to them? Vastius fell asleep wondering what was wrong with all the other people of the world. Chapter 1 - Outcast“The poison of selfishness destroys the world.” -Catherine of Siena Vastius, the son of the great king of Locum Populo walked down the streets of the castle city. He was on his way to see the finest blacksmith around to get the best sword money could buy. The buildings of the town were simple compared to the castle. They were simple, made from stones shaped to fit together perfectly. Each building was made of wood, with a basic functional design and hay thatch roofs to provide cover against rain. As Vastius walked, he passed a beggar laying against a wall in the street. He wore nothing but rags, and his face was covered in scruff. The man was absolutely pitiful. “Please sir, could you spare a little change for a poor man?” The beggar pleaded as Vastius passed by. “Why would I give anything to a lowlife street urchin like you?” Vastius said, his voice shrill. “What have you done to earn it? Have you done anything but beg in the streets?” “I have no home, and no one will hire me, sir.” The beggar said. “I have no way to make ends meet. Please, I am starving.” “Get off your lazy butt and go do something to earn it. You will not have any of my money.” Vastius sneered. “If anything you owe me money for taking up my valuable time.” Vastius turned from the beggar and continued on his way. Soon he came upon the finest blacksmith shop in the country. He entered into the simple workshop. It was very basic, with nothing but a forge, an anvil, and a quench bucket. The forge was comprised of a bed of flaming hot coals, with massive leather billows pumping air into the flames. A young apprentice stood pumping the billows while the master blacksmith ran about working on various projects and orders. “Blacksmith, I must speak with you at once.” Vastius demanded. “It is of the utmost importance.” The Blacksmith wiped his hands on the apron across his chest and walked over to where Vastius stood waiting impatiently. “What can I do for you Prince Vastius?” The Blacksmith said, his voice tired. “I simply must have the finest sword you can forge immediately,” Vastius said. “Now chop chop, hurry up.” The Blacksmith glared at Vastius as he got to work. He had dealt with Vastius before and was sick of the royal prince's vanity and entitlement. Constantly he would be interrupted by the prince, who would demand some huge order or another. He thought about how nice it would be to throw a lump of hot coal at the prince as he shoved a piece of iron into the burning hot forge. After a few minutes of working on hammering the blade, which was extremely difficult work, Vastius spoke. “Is it ready yet smithy?” Vastius demanded. “No, Prince Vastius.” the Blacksmith replied. “It takes time to provide you with a great sword.” “I demand you give it to me this instant!” Vastius said. “Give it to me now!” The Blacksmith finally had enough. He’d been dealing with the selfish prince for years now, and he was sick of it. “I quit!” The Blacksmith said. “I have dealt with your hogwash for far to long! Make the darned sword yourself you selfish whiny little twirp!” The Blacksmith threw the half-finished sword to the ground, the heated metal scorching the dirt floor. He stormed out the back door of the workshop, leaving Vastius alone with the apprentice. “Well, what are you waiting for?” Vastius said. “Finish the sword you little low life.” The apprentice didn’t say a single word. He turned and followed the master blacksmith out the back door. “Both of you, get back here this instant!” Vastiuses face went beet red as he yelled into the back door of the shop. “Finish my sword!” “Finish it yourself!” The Blacksmith yelled from outside. Extremely upset and swordless, Vastius stormed out of the blacksmith's workshop and back into the street. He was in an extremely sour mood as he walked home to his father's castle. In the road were several kids playing with a makeshift ball. They kicked it around, trying to hit it into doors on opposing sides of the street. As Vastius approached them, the ball rolled up to his feet. He looked down, picked the ball up, and threw it on the nearest roof. “Watch where you kick the ball you street urchins,” Vastius said. He continued up the road. He entered into the castle through the massive gates, complaining to the guards as he walked in. Vastius stormed into his room and flopped onto his massive king-sized bed. He fell asleep despite his furious anger at the smithy and his apprentice. Prince Vastius was soon woken up by his father the King entering his room. The King was a portly man, and his brown hair was greying. He wore a crown bedazzled in jewels on top of his rather round head. The Kings face was contorted into a scowl as he entered the room. “Vastius, what have you done this time?!” The King said, waking Vastius from his slumber. “You drove off our finest Blacksmith, and for what, a sword?” “It was all the smithies fault father,” Vastius complained. “He couldn’t make my sword fast enough so he quit. I had nothing to do with it.” “I have had enough of your lies Vastius!” The King bellowed. “I thought I raised you better than this.” “I told you, I had nothing to do with it!” Vastius said. “LIES! You have forced my hand my boy. I cannot bear to call you my son any longer. Until you can show kindness, humility, and selflessness, you are no longer my son!” “Wha-what do you mean?” Vastius said. “You can’t do that! I am the prince!” “And I am the King. I am truly sorry I did not raise you better Vastius. Guards! Remove this man from the castle at once. Throw him out to the street!” Two guards entered the room. They were both very buff and covered with armor. Each grabbed one of Vastiuses arms. They dragged him kicking and screaming through the castle halls. As they approached the gates, Vastius started to cry and beg with the guards. The gates opened as the guards threw Vastius into the street outside the gate. As the gate closed, the ex-prince huddled up against the castle wall. He was all alone, without power, without riches, and without food. His stomach growled as he bent his head between his legs. Vastius cried, wishing his father had not left him, hoping he would change his mind. He was on his own. Tell me what you think!Hey all you beautiful people! So that was the first chapter of a story I plan on continuing. The plan is for this to be a kind of weekly or so short story type thing. I hope you enjoyed it, and tell me what you guys think! Comment down below about where you think this is going, and what you think of Vastius. Until next time, keep on writing!
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Welcome to The Writers Block!AuthorKen Mears is a new 17 year old author, here to share his wisdom, advice, and experiences with you, the reader! Archives
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