《Sanguine Paradise》Chapter 72 – [Day 24] – “Worry”
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∼ Day 24 ∼
‹ Mia ›
Sitting on the most recently finished building, I overlooked the large-scale construction process that had hundreds of goblins and hobgoblins scurrying around like headless chickens. But I barely registered any of it.
Over the last few days, a seed of worry and sadness had been planted deep within my heart. I kept looking to the horizon, in hopes that I'd see his figure come flying returning home, but alas, there's been no sign of him ever since he was taking by that horrifying monster.
I gave a start as I suddenly felt a large and rough hand touch my shoulder. I hadn't even realized that huge and lumbering form of Bob that had sat himself down next to me. He was looking at me with a smile on his stupid but funny-looking mug while holding out a roasted rock beetle leg in an attempt to console me.
Ever since returning and hearing the news, Bob had desperately tried to make sure I wasn't sad or depressed for all this time. But his smile was obviously forced as he himself couldn't hide the worry that had engulfed the both of us ever since the abduction of Master.
Returning a genuine but weak smile, I took the offered roasted leg from the overly protective Bob and began slowly nibbling on it. Knowing that I had become Master's woman, Bob had taken it upon himself to act as a big brother and make sure I wasn't feeling down.
My mind had been constantly occupied by the worry of what might happen to Master, so I hadn't even the slightest energy to care or do something about the lecherous stares of the disgusting goblins and hobs that had recently joined the tribe. They had all yet to respect or recognize Master, and with my recent evolution, it had only gotten worse.
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But Bob had been more than willing on his own accord to thoroughly punish the offenders as now the whole tribe dared not even be in the vicinity of me, let alone look my way.
Bob had truly become something like a big brother, even though I didn't exactly know what that is. It was apparently something that Master had told Bob about, and he was more than happy to fill that role when he thought it might be able to cheer me up.
"Bob, do you think he will return?" - Me
Looking up from his own leg of roasted beetle, he met my gaze with an unfamiliar steely and resolute look on the seemingly always goofy Bob.
"Masta will return because he said so." - Bob
I couldn't help but let out a chuckle as the simple giant's answer was all too honest. After I finished the roasted beetle leg, I nimbly made my way down from the wooden building. Darkan had beckoned me over apparently wanting to talk about some matter that he was fussing over with a group of hobgoblins. But while moving through the streams of hastily evading greenskins I suddenly stopped as icy chills of horror ran down my back.
It felt as if my world was crumbling. The one thing that had given me solace these last few days had begun to wane. Through the soothing stream of consciousness coming from the other end of the connection between Master and me that had formed once he took me as his, I felt it suddenly fade.
As if dying...
Worry, panic, and dread all collectively assaulted my mind as red-tinged crystalline tears began running down my cheeks. While the fading of the connection between Master and I didn't actually have any physical harm or detriment to my body, but it was like my heart had been gripped in the vice of Murlok, the god of misery and despair, himself.
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Although it had only been a handful of moons ever since Master entered my life, I've never felt so happy and fulfilled as I was now, and it's only because of him. He's shown me the possibility of the future, and what it meant to love. Before I was just some hobgoblin girl that lived. That's it, I simply existed. No ambition, no future, no love, only survival.
It's like a haze had been lifted from my mind, and I could finally see the world around me. My fate as a hobgoblin would've been like every single other greenskin.
He did this, he gave me life.
Suddenly, I lost track of the connection with it fully slipping from my grasp. With my body petrified and a look that told of utter desolation on my face, I could only stare with an empty gaze at the muddied ground beneath my hands.
I barely registered Bob placing his trembling hand on my shoulder. Turning me around, I was met with a horrified and trembling Bob, but who to my surprise actually forced a desperate but consoling smile.
"F-feel, he's still there. Masta is alive." - Bob
With the gears suddenly churning in my head once again, my mind turned inward to desperately search for any and all signs of my love.
-There... i-it's still there...
Faint, almost imperceptible, a weak and thin strand of consciousness of a connection still held together within my mind.
"Master is still alive..." - Me
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Old Riding Author Lunatic Asylum
Just off the A19, in the dark, incomprehensible lands known as Yorkshire, there lies a town. A town where shadow-silent alleys glint with the secret hunger of knives. Where blood soaks the chipboard window shutters of forsaken terraces stretching off into the night. Where the smog-choked air rattles with the depraved laughter echoing out from clubs that can only generously be described as post-apocalyptic. Well, that’s Middlesbrough. But down the A19 a bit (an impossibly long way down, actually) there lies another town: Raughnen, in the ancient, forgotten Old Riding. It is an equal match in muggery and thuggery alike. It also has magic spells and pointy wizard hats. And now, across the miles and across all sensibilities, a pretty nasty power (a magic one) calls out for its pretty nasty counterpart (a decidedly unmagic one): a proper sound Boro lad. Nothing good can come of it. This is a collection of one novella and four connected short stories: I. A Yorkshire Summoning II. Old Riding Day Trip (the novella) III. Heaven is a Parmo IV. Death on the 66 V. Death on the 257 In total, this comprises 34 chapters totalling around 35,000 words, so try not to worry. It will be over relatively quickly. There are three more short stories with more tenuous links to the core collection: Rush, Paper Round and Scenario 79: Sausage Fingers, all of which can be found in my collection Short Records of Misadventure. Reading these may allow you to make more sense of certain parts of the story, if any sense is to be made at all. NOTE: There are instances of prejudice and discrimination within these stories, including elements of sexism and ageism, which are purely the thoughts and actions of the characters involved and which certainly do not reflect my own views on these matters. ANOTHER NOTE; A WARNING, PERHAPS: This can get a bit weird. In less than 150 pages, we have four viewpoints, first and third person narratives, and a completely disjointed plot with lots of gaps, dead ends and no real resolution. Also ZERO lunatic asylums. It's all a bit odd. If that sort of thing isn't your cup of tea, which it most likely isn't, it might be best to move on now.
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