Tragedies

One thing Loren Ausel learned early was that everyone had their own tragedies. If yours hadn't come yet, it was coming, and when it did, it would shatter the world you used to live in, twist everything into unrecognizable half-memories and throw you onto a new path, with an unknown, veiled destination. The horrible new reality would sink its teeth into you and never let go. Each tragedy seemed to branch out into smaller ones, touching every person in some different way.

It was because of his father's tragedy that Loren was inside the wall-- he called it his father's not because it did not affect his own life, but because it twisted his father's life far more mercilessly, and besides, Loren's tragedy had already happened.

Loren was starting to wonder how many tragedies could belong to a person.

If Arydain's death had been his first plunge into darkness, and his mother's final words his last flickering spark of light, coming to this place... this shore, this... this horror was a glimpse into an even blacker night, and the putting-out of that final candle.

There was nothing right about this. There was nothing right about life-- especially here. It took Loren less than one day to learn that one thing drove the people here: selfishness.

How many tragedies would happen here? How many would he witness? How many would he feel?

Would he be a part of one? The cause?

Loren tossed a pebble out into the surging waves, watching it disappear from view before he could see it hit the water.

"Loren!" Kol shouted from the yard. "It's almost curfew!"

Loren looked at his watch.

"We're still five minutes away."

"Five minutes away from a lashing, you mean." Kol retorted.

Loren turned away from the sea, picking a careless path across the stony ground. He stepped onto the brown grass yard and past Kol, who trailed behind him as they returned to the building.

"What would I do without you, Kol?"

"I don't know," he said quietly, "Die, probably. Or kill someone."

"Shut up."

He skipped around to face Loren, walking backwards.

"You might smile less." He said with a grin.

"Might?"

"Might. You never know."

Author Notes: Not proud of this, but I'm leaving it up for now.

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