Chopping trees, living life. open.
Jul 8, 2010 18:57:43 GMT -5
Post by vividwriter on Jul 8, 2010 18:57:43 GMT -5
Birch.
I reach fell the last tree of my day, and watch with great satisfaction as it fall with a crash. That one should give good wood at around fourty three feet tall.
I wipe my brow and sigh. Time to go to town and buy cloth. It was considerably cheaper than already made gloves and other clothes.
I am still learning to make clothes, so my clothes are crude at best. but they serve their purpose.
I turn in my axe reluctantly. I feel at home with an axe in my hand, I only wish they let me keep it. But that would be arming the population.
I feel anger rise in my chest as I walk past the first few shacks down a dirt road. The world is so unreasonable. So evil. I walk into the leaning store and the store keeper must have seen my grimace.
"The usual?" He asks.
"Yes. The cheapest." I grumble.
"It's gone up." The storekeeper warns.
I almost fly int a fit of rage. It's ALWAYS going up. "How much?"
"plus tax?"
"You know what? I can wear my old thread bare clothing. I don't need it." I grumble and leave the store.
I slam the door and stalk towards home. The hard ground under my feet is the only unmoving thing in my world. everything is always changing.
I walk grimly down the street, until I see a bench. Upset, and tired, I huff down onto it, and slam my head against the wall of the pub/hotel the bench was seated against. My eyes close to the dark world, and I wipe my mind clean of problems-which was very hard.
I reach fell the last tree of my day, and watch with great satisfaction as it fall with a crash. That one should give good wood at around fourty three feet tall.
I wipe my brow and sigh. Time to go to town and buy cloth. It was considerably cheaper than already made gloves and other clothes.
I am still learning to make clothes, so my clothes are crude at best. but they serve their purpose.
I turn in my axe reluctantly. I feel at home with an axe in my hand, I only wish they let me keep it. But that would be arming the population.
I feel anger rise in my chest as I walk past the first few shacks down a dirt road. The world is so unreasonable. So evil. I walk into the leaning store and the store keeper must have seen my grimace.
"The usual?" He asks.
"Yes. The cheapest." I grumble.
"It's gone up." The storekeeper warns.
I almost fly int a fit of rage. It's ALWAYS going up. "How much?"
"plus tax?"
"You know what? I can wear my old thread bare clothing. I don't need it." I grumble and leave the store.
I slam the door and stalk towards home. The hard ground under my feet is the only unmoving thing in my world. everything is always changing.
I walk grimly down the street, until I see a bench. Upset, and tired, I huff down onto it, and slam my head against the wall of the pub/hotel the bench was seated against. My eyes close to the dark world, and I wipe my mind clean of problems-which was very hard.
