Fragments Gallery
Choices
Thwack. Thwack.
The sound echoed down the valley, startling a flock of birds from a tall stand of trees.
The noise repeated. The solid thwack of metal on wood cutting through the otherwise silence of the early morning. The birds swirled for a moment and then resettled into the trees on the valley floor. After a short time the noise echoed again and the birds once more took flight until silence reigned once more, then they settled again when the dawn grew calm once more. It was routine.
The greying man swung the axe once more, slamming the axe into the stump in front of him. Releasing his grip on the axe he left it embedded in the stump as he knelt down to gather up the fallen pieces of wood. He stacked the splintered and shattered wood carefully, neatly piling it by the door to his home. This being done he straightened, groaning as he pushed the stiffness from his back. For a moment he didn't move and instead stood quietly staring towards the distant horizon. The sun was rising above the distant mountains. Its rays of light illuminating the valley as the dawn broke and the valley came to life after the long night.
The man's breath misted in the air before him as he watched the distant sunrise. He'd walked this valley since he was a young man and before that he'd lived in one of the great cities on the plain. For all his time spent in the same valley he still found great beauty in a thing as simple as the rising of the sun.
It was the simple things.
"Oh Corin," he murmured to himself, "Let the past remain in the past."
But he couldn't.
As was his custom he stood and watched the sun rise to brush the tips of the mountains and then he turned away. As he turned a thought occurred to him and it darkened his morning. His feet were heavy he walked back towards his old cabin. This was his routine. In recent years there had been that small voice in the back of his head asking him if he had chosen the right path, asking him if he'd made the right choices all those years ago. When he'd originally made the choice there had been no doubt in his mind. He'd acted as he felt was right. But now... after so many years he was no longer sure. He'd had to make a choice all those years ago; he had been in a… unique position.
When he had been a child a fortune teller had come to the city. It had been foretold that he would be the bringer of wars, because of him war would rage across the lands, but also because of him there would eventually be peace. At first no one had believed the prophecy, but then other things that the fortune teller had foretold began to happen. Crops failed. The granaries had burned 2 consecutive years in a row. The worst winter in memory had passed. The fortune teller had given many prophecies in his short time in the city and every single prophecy came true. So when Corin turned sixteen he had made a choice. He had left civilized lands so that he could cause no wars. He had been happy for a time. He built his cabin, wrought a life out of the valley.
However in recent years the occasional traveller that ventured to the valley brought word that wars had come to the known lands. It made him wonder, had he made the right choice? Was this the war that had been foretold? Had he been blame for it because he hadn't been there to stop it somehow? Was it his fault because he had walked away from his responsibilities?
He couldn't say. But now he had another choice. Should he leave the valley and try to bring an end to this war? Could he end the war where no one else could? Would it even make a difference if he left?
He had no answers; all he had to go off of was that old prophecy.
He sighed and shook his head as he reached the cabin door.
Choices.