Tales of the Refugee (Pt. 1)
Sept 2, 2012 21:19:26 GMT -8
Post by The Dude on Sept 2, 2012 21:19:26 GMT -8
[/size]Ladies and Gentleman,
Tenzo Productions Proudly Presents
...
TALES OF THE REFUGEE
(A Flashback Saga of the life and times of Tenzo Kiyoshi)Part 1: Her
Chapter 1: Wild Fire
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Rain battered against the floors of a small run down house and strong winds made the walls creak and groan with every turn they made. The door opened suddenly and rain battered into the entrance way as Kiyoshi stepped through the doorway with heavy steps and an armful of logs that had been soaked through. He threw the wood haphazardly onto the floor before turning about and slamming the door shut on the elements that raged apathetic to his desire to stay dry. He turned removing his large coat and tossing it over the back of the only chair in the room, a worn and aged arm chair beguiling to it's true comfort. He took off his glasses and placed them carefully within the folds of the coat before he returned to the pile of logs strewn across the floor.
As he moved them to the small fireplace steam would rise from his frame drying him out and every log he held for a moment in his grip causing the rain to steam from inside before placing them gingerly into the pit. Once the pile of wood was built to his liking he held the last log in his hand a moment longer raising his own temperature until it blazed alive with fire before setting into the pit. He sat down in the arm chair weary holding his head in one hand while absent mindedly reaching for the books on the small table beside him. There were a few ideas buzzing around in his head that he wanted to get down on paper for future reference when he would consider writing an actual book again.
He opened the book only to find the paper was aged much like everything else in the house, but his eye lit up in recognition of what was written before slamming the book shut with a sharp snap. This was not the book he had been reaching for at all, but now that the familiar penmanship was before him he couldn't bring himself to put it back. Words that were written within he now wished only to forget. If he had had any proper sense he would have burned this book long ago for the danger it represented to him. But, the pain it wrought was to dear and close to his heart to be ignored and cast aside. He bit his lip and ran slightly trembling fingers across the surface of the book. No longer able to control himself, he slowly turned to the first page written in a code as familiar as the penmanship. To Kiyoshi, it was just a second language he wrote in and easily deciphered into plain text.
"Written word is a powerful medium. It can share inspiration and passion, raise or crumble nations, and leave a record of memories and events. With this in mind I've bought myself a journal in order that the world remember me and what I do with my life. No. That's not honest. I've thought about writing a journal a long time but never really followed through on that desire, but today was special. Today I know somethings should be preserved to the best of our ability..."
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