After stacking the last piece of wood into a neat pile, I placed the pack against the wall of the house. I walked back to the front door silently, at least I still have my father and friends who support me. This clearly is not the worst situation I could ever be in, yet it feels like I'm missing a part of my heart. It's just, gone hollowed out leaving an empty void in its place that can only be covered not filled.
Once again I placed my hands on the door, with a heave it creaked open to unveil the world I live in now. The bakery is at the edge of town so the rent was cheaper, but we also had a decent income from our earnings. The floorboards creaked as I trotted over them, dad really needed to get new floorboards. These seem as if they could break at any moment, at least upstairs was better.
I looked over to the counter, father and his friends were still busy so I better leave them be. I marched up the stairs silently yet as stiff as a wooden plank, the lamp casting a warm glow over my skin. I pushed the tattered wooden door to my 'room' open and closed it behind my back. I didn't have much but it's all I needed, a bed in a corner made of hay and a pillow also made of hay. The sword my mother gave me was hanging up above my bed, a desk where I draw scenery and creatures.
It was said there were other places like this but nowhere we could get close to without being mauled by the Voidborn when they awake at night. On the right side of the desk I had pens, the left was a wooden pot with a moonglow flower given to me by my mother. There was also a crude but usable training dummy and a window that overlooks the rest of the town. On the wall opposite me hung the medal given to her, for her bravery and skills in battle for defeating a brute classed Voidborn single handedly.
I sat down on the bed staring at the dummy me and my mother had made from what little we had at that time. I untied my laces once again drifting off into the spiderweb of my mind. Mothers' voices, guiding me in swordplay and teaching me how to read and write all were memories of the happy past. After some minor labour I heaved my legs out of my combat boots from mother and plopped onto the bed. It creaked slightly under me as usual, I folded my arms over the back of my head laying down. A sad sigh escaped my lips looking up to the thatch roof of my building engraved with stars by me and my mother.
I laid there in complete silence listening to the bustle under me and the whistle of the wind clinging onto the thatch. The sound of walking over the cobblestone path echoing throughout my room. There was a creak from somewhere outside the window, definitely not the normal I was used to hearing.