For anybody else, a typical day probably wouldn't start off with fencing; especially not in an antique shop.
I stood facing my opponent, the shop owner. A thin, black clad man in his twenties. His brown hair was pulled into a ponytail behind him. It almost matched the small beard on his chin. Or it would if you could see it. Right now, his face was covered with a mesh mask and he held a long, thin sword out in front of him.
Most people knew him as Folklore, that creepy guy with the pawn shop filled with odd little trinkets.
To us, he was Drew Knowles. That insanely cool guy with a store full of priceless treasures. The best part? He let you play with them.
If he liked you.
My uncle is part of an archaeology organization, Mystech. He even owns the Museum of magical history in town, a place Folklore often sells or trades to. Being his nephew, he often gives me the grand tour whenever something new comes in. Granted the whole; 'you break it, you buy it" thing still comes into play, especially if Chikara tags along. I'm guessing that was why he moved us to the front of the store.
"Rule one of Folklore's fencing guide;" He started. "always stay alert."
No sooner than he finished his sentence, he lashed out, causing me to jump back. Our swords met, the metallic clang echoing through the room. I hardly seemed to notice the noise. My focus was on Folklore, tracking every move he made, trying to predict them. We had fenced before and he won every time! He was not going to get me this time.
That was the plan. Or it was until Chikara decided we needed dramatic background music and turned on the radio. One of Three Days Grace's finest came on and my head snapped that way instantly, trying to find the source of the distraction. I paused just long enough for Folklore to whip his sword out, stabbing me in the chest.
I turned back to him, letting out a breath. He only stood there, spinning the sword in mid-air until it rested at his side. I wasn't so much surprised as I was frustrated. This was, what, our sixth time fencing? And I still hadn't got him.
I now lifted up my own mask and shot a glare Chikara's way. In one fluid movement the radio snapped off and the blame game started.
"It was Demetri's fault!" He accused, and pointed toward him.
I looked toward my twin brother. Just moments before he had been sitting there, so absorbed in the book he was reading he had no idea Chikara was accusing him of something. Now, he looked up, a curious expression on his face.
"Sorry," He apologized. "What happened?"
I caught Chikara's gaze again. The look on the long haired, Asian boy's face showed that we both didn't believe him.
"I'm sure it was." I muttered, then slid my mask back on.
I got into position again. One hand behind my back and my sword (which was really called a foil) held out. The three of us had stopped by unexpected, so he didn't really have time to dig out both of his uniforms. All we had now were the swords and mask. Something that doesn't really happen often with how sharp the foils are.
A small cut could be explained by the stray dog that bit me when we leave here. A poked out eye, on the other hand was a lawsuit waiting to happen. Even if he was the Museum's best customer. Good thing there was a button on the end of these thins.
"Rule two of Folklore's fencing guide," He went on. "Never let your enemy catch you off guard."
Our blades met again. The clang filled the room, yet again. At this point, Chikara had left the far end of the room and walked over to the table next to the display case. He leaned against it, watching us.
"Why does Folklore keep referring to himself in the third person?" He asked.
Shoving my foil out of the way he lifted his mask up, making sure Chikara saw the brown of his eyes. His signature sunglasses sat on the table beside the cash register. He hardly ever took them off.
I'm guessing it had something to do with the intimidation factor. Something I read about in one of Demetri's psychology books.
Folklore was weird but he was possibly one of the nicest guys you would ever meet. The glasses were suppose to make him look intimidating. Like, he was ready to drop kick you out of his store in a second if you didn't buy something. Personally, I thought they made him look like a Beatnik. Which, honestly, he kind of was.
"Folklore would appreciate it if Chikara would stop talking while he was fencing." He said flatly.
I saw my chance.
"Bane wouldn't!"
My foil shot out, hoping to get him while he wasn't looking. I never got the chance. He spun around, using his own foil to whip mine out of my hands. It pulled me forward, then went flying and landed by the front door.
For a second, I just lay there and stared at it; trying to process what happened. Only one thought came to my mind.
The guy was a fuck'in ninja. I sware!
I could now see his face as he towered over me. I sat up and took his hand when he offered it out.
"Never attack somebody when their mask isn't on. Had this been a real match, you'd be disqualified." He explained, his eyes narrowing.
"Yeah. But it wasn't a meal match." I said, matter-of-factly. "And you said yourself, never let your enemy catch you off guard."
He rubbed his beard, pondering this.
"Touche." He quipped. "Now!" He struck a dramatic pose. "Come on! I have something to show you three!"
Hearing him utter those words, I knew it was official. We were done from the day. Folklore walked toward the back; placing the sword against the wall, the mask on the shelf above it, and his sunglasses back on his face.
Demetri got up and followed him, a bookmark now marking the page he had left off on. I soon followed behind, pausing long enough to put my own stuff up.
"I think he wanted to poke your chest." Chikara smirked on the way by.
"Yes, Chick. He's the patron of pedo's everywhere." I said, rolling my eyes.
I stood facing my opponent, the shop owner. A thin, black clad man in his twenties. His brown hair was pulled into a ponytail behind him. It almost matched the small beard on his chin. Or it would if you could see it. Right now, his face was covered with a mesh mask and he held a long, thin sword out in front of him.
Most people knew him as Folklore, that creepy guy with the pawn shop filled with odd little trinkets.
To us, he was Drew Knowles. That insanely cool guy with a store full of priceless treasures. The best part? He let you play with them.
If he liked you.
My uncle is part of an archaeology organization, Mystech. He even owns the Museum of magical history in town, a place Folklore often sells or trades to. Being his nephew, he often gives me the grand tour whenever something new comes in. Granted the whole; 'you break it, you buy it" thing still comes into play, especially if Chikara tags along. I'm guessing that was why he moved us to the front of the store.
"Rule one of Folklore's fencing guide;" He started. "always stay alert."
No sooner than he finished his sentence, he lashed out, causing me to jump back. Our swords met, the metallic clang echoing through the room. I hardly seemed to notice the noise. My focus was on Folklore, tracking every move he made, trying to predict them. We had fenced before and he won every time! He was not going to get me this time.
That was the plan. Or it was until Chikara decided we needed dramatic background music and turned on the radio. One of Three Days Grace's finest came on and my head snapped that way instantly, trying to find the source of the distraction. I paused just long enough for Folklore to whip his sword out, stabbing me in the chest.
I turned back to him, letting out a breath. He only stood there, spinning the sword in mid-air until it rested at his side. I wasn't so much surprised as I was frustrated. This was, what, our sixth time fencing? And I still hadn't got him.
I now lifted up my own mask and shot a glare Chikara's way. In one fluid movement the radio snapped off and the blame game started.
"It was Demetri's fault!" He accused, and pointed toward him.
I looked toward my twin brother. Just moments before he had been sitting there, so absorbed in the book he was reading he had no idea Chikara was accusing him of something. Now, he looked up, a curious expression on his face.
"Sorry," He apologized. "What happened?"
I caught Chikara's gaze again. The look on the long haired, Asian boy's face showed that we both didn't believe him.
"I'm sure it was." I muttered, then slid my mask back on.
I got into position again. One hand behind my back and my sword (which was really called a foil) held out. The three of us had stopped by unexpected, so he didn't really have time to dig out both of his uniforms. All we had now were the swords and mask. Something that doesn't really happen often with how sharp the foils are.
A small cut could be explained by the stray dog that bit me when we leave here. A poked out eye, on the other hand was a lawsuit waiting to happen. Even if he was the Museum's best customer. Good thing there was a button on the end of these thins.
"Rule two of Folklore's fencing guide," He went on. "Never let your enemy catch you off guard."
Our blades met again. The clang filled the room, yet again. At this point, Chikara had left the far end of the room and walked over to the table next to the display case. He leaned against it, watching us.
"Why does Folklore keep referring to himself in the third person?" He asked.
Shoving my foil out of the way he lifted his mask up, making sure Chikara saw the brown of his eyes. His signature sunglasses sat on the table beside the cash register. He hardly ever took them off.
I'm guessing it had something to do with the intimidation factor. Something I read about in one of Demetri's psychology books.
Folklore was weird but he was possibly one of the nicest guys you would ever meet. The glasses were suppose to make him look intimidating. Like, he was ready to drop kick you out of his store in a second if you didn't buy something. Personally, I thought they made him look like a Beatnik. Which, honestly, he kind of was.
"Folklore would appreciate it if Chikara would stop talking while he was fencing." He said flatly.
I saw my chance.
"Bane wouldn't!"
My foil shot out, hoping to get him while he wasn't looking. I never got the chance. He spun around, using his own foil to whip mine out of my hands. It pulled me forward, then went flying and landed by the front door.
For a second, I just lay there and stared at it; trying to process what happened. Only one thought came to my mind.
The guy was a fuck'in ninja. I sware!
I could now see his face as he towered over me. I sat up and took his hand when he offered it out.
"Never attack somebody when their mask isn't on. Had this been a real match, you'd be disqualified." He explained, his eyes narrowing.
"Yeah. But it wasn't a meal match." I said, matter-of-factly. "And you said yourself, never let your enemy catch you off guard."
He rubbed his beard, pondering this.
"Touche." He quipped. "Now!" He struck a dramatic pose. "Come on! I have something to show you three!"
Hearing him utter those words, I knew it was official. We were done from the day. Folklore walked toward the back; placing the sword against the wall, the mask on the shelf above it, and his sunglasses back on his face.
Demetri got up and followed him, a bookmark now marking the page he had left off on. I soon followed behind, pausing long enough to put my own stuff up.
"I think he wanted to poke your chest." Chikara smirked on the way by.
"Yes, Chick. He's the patron of pedo's everywhere." I said, rolling my eyes.
All i know is that i am falling.
I try desperately to save myself, but it's just so dark and dreary...i'm not even completely aware of my body anymore. I just continue spiralling down into this dark oblivion..
Suddenly, there isa small glowing light only about four feet below me. I reach out. I cannot grasp it, though. If i wait long enough, though,i'll tumble right into it.
Only, i dont. Because, right when i am about to make contact i slip away. My eyes open and the only light is the one streaming through my window...
I try desperately to save myself, but it's just so dark and dreary...i'm not even completely aware of my body anymore. I just continue spiralling down into this dark oblivion..
Suddenly, there isa small glowing light only about four feet below me. I reach out. I cannot grasp it, though. If i wait long enough, though,i'll tumble right into it.
Only, i dont. Because, right when i am about to make contact i slip away. My eyes open and the only light is the one streaming through my window...
The words made my breath fall short in my throat, a small whimpering sound went up through my chest. I slowly rose my watch, exactly the time I was to be doomed. The part of the wall carrying the dread words burst open and rats started to crawl in, immediatly gnawing at my flesh, I tried to back away, but the part i had opened up suddenly closes and i was trapped in darkness, I was trapped, I was trapped with no hope off escape and a thousand beady eyes crawling all over my body, wrigglin down my chest and making their way towards my heart. I spun and rolled around as much as I could in the small space, but the rats were persistent, and my blood trickeld all around me, forming in a pool under me. After a while a finally gave up. For all I had done i was payed with my own dead, locked in a narrow passage with rats all around me, the last living things i would ever interact with. I began to sob softly and my final breath flew from my body, I was a limp, lifeless corpse.....