Our Pitiful Existance | Teen Ink

Our Pitiful Existance

February 17, 2015
By cchez_mix BRONZE, Fort Wayne, Indiana
cchez_mix BRONZE, Fort Wayne, Indiana
2 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
Two roads diverged in a wood and I-I took the one less traveled by, and that...has made all the difference.


The smell of burning flesh assaulted my nose as I stood in the town square with the other townspeople. It had been a girl I knew this time. She lived next door; I’d known her all my life. Despite the accusations, I couldn’t believe she was a witch. It just didn’t seem right, none of it did. I don’t usually care for others, but burning a person alive seems truly inhumane.

It’d been 6 months since my brother Antonio left. 6 long, boring months. Everyone in town talks about him like he’s an idiot. They think he scorned our family, leaving to be a pirate and all. The people of Massachusetts hate pirates. They lie, they steal, and they break the law, but Antonio has done that since the day he was born.

I’d wanted to come with him, the day that he left. I remember the day. The enormous lump of wood floating close enough to shore that you could see it, but far enough away that you had to row a boat to get to it. I watched him sail away from my sight, leaving me in this godforsaken town filled with crazies.

I removed myself from the scene, slinking moodily towards the woods. The screams of terror and pain rang loud and clear, drowning out every other sound. I immersed myself in the smell the trees and the familiar surroundings. The sun hung low in the sky, creeping lower and lower behind the trees.

I saw Mr. Linden walking a few feet in front of me. How peculiar. I stood from a distance and watched him, not feeling the need to hide. He grunted as he dragged a brown sack and a shovel behind him. I leaned against a tree and wondered what the crazy old hoot was doing. He was known around town for doing odd things like attacking family pets and stealing pigs. The wretched old goat.

He had a scraggly, white beard that touched his stomach. A sickly old man he was. His beady eyes as dark as the bottom of a well. His skin was wrinkled and dirty and his back was forever hunched. This man was the worst kind of disgusting.

I watched as he stuck his shovel in the ground and began to dig. He dug a shallow hole and threw the bag in it. If he was looking to hide something, he didn’t do a very good job of it. Made my job a little easier I suppose. I turned away and started to head back towards town. I’d have my friends dig it up tomorrow. It would make for something interesting to do.

I strolled through town, not paying any attention to the aftermath of the latest witch trial. I opened the door of my house and stepped into a war zone. It was worse than the time my father found out about my brother selling tobacco. I side stepped a flying glass and made my way over to where my sister Alessandra was standing in a corner. I grunted to make my presence known.

“Father got a letter in the mail and then he went into one of his fits. He won’t tell us what is says,” she explained. I realized I had to do something before things got out of hand.

“Father!” I yelled over the sound of his Italian rambling. He paid me no mind, only continued to stomp and yell. Since that didn’t work, I decided to think of another idea. When my father was in this state, he might as well be the town fool.

So, I did the smartest thing I could at the moment. I went and grabbed the letter to determine what he was on about.

I left the room before he could realize that I had snatched it. My body went rigid as my eyes raked over the crumpled piece of parchment. It was written in commoners style. I could hardly understand the handwriting that resembled chicken scratch, but my eyes caught onto words like:

sorry to explain

raid in Africa

Antonio

lost at sea

deepest condolences

My blood ran cold as my mind worked to process this newfound information. Antonio…. Lost at sea? How does this happen? Do people usually just lose track of enormous boats?

“What does it say?” Alessandra asked from behind me. I didn’t answer her, just stood rigid in the same spot, unmoving. When she realized I wasn’t going to say anything, she struggled to take the letter from my clenched fists.

I didn’t see her look it over, but I heard her begin to cry.

My family was relatively inconsolable for the next week. They hadn’t told anyone about what had happened to Antonio, and they did not plan to. My family cried together every day, while I sat in another room. I was deemed heartless, that I didn’t care enough to grieve my own brother. But  they didn’t understand, I cared for him the most, more than they could ever understand. They hated him when he shamed our family name by selling tobacco and running off to be a pirate. I admired him for it, I’ve looked up to him for years, the way he never let father control him inspired me. I always took his side no matter what he did, he could do no wrong in my eyes.

He was smarter than anyone his age and older, he was no fool. That was why I believed he was alive. While my family believed him dead, I knew he was too smart to lay dead somewhere in the bottom of the ocean.

I needed to get out of the house. The atmosphere was thick and miserable. I was numb, void of any emotions, gliding over the ground like a ghost who did not realize he was no longer alive. My dark, empty eye glided over the neighborhood boys I call my friends as I approached them. They turned to me in interest, wondering why I hadn’t left the house in days. I tried to convince myself that they were the pitiful ones and not I.

“Let’s go do something,” I said, looking at my friends. It was silent for a moment as they stared at me, heads tilted and eyebrows raised in confusion and surprise.

“But we are doing something,” Donnie spoke up. That brat. Never quite liked him. I raised an eyebrow at him, sticking my hands in my pockets.

“What do you have in mind?” Jackson, one of my more loyal friends, asked. I internally snickered at his name. Son of Jack? How ordinary and lame. I relied on making up silent jokes to keep me from going completely insane. A lamentable attempt, I realized.

“Old Mr. Linden’s hiding something interesting,” I said as a smirk graced my features.

Smiles grew on my friends faces as they realized what I was saying. They loved harassing the old man. We were a bit sick, in a sense.

“Sounds interesting,” Daniel said, walking towards me. I turned and made my way towards the woods, knowing my friends were following. We reached Mr. Linden’s house faster than I had earlier, since the sun was still bright in the sky.

I grabbed the shovel discarded on the ground and tossed it to Donnie, “Edward and Donnie, you can stay out here and dig up whatever he was burying. Jackson and I will scout the premises,” Edward sent me a look of gratefulness, while the latter protested.

“Why do we have to stay out here?” I pinched the bridge of my nose. He was older than I was, but he never acted like it.

“Then why don’t you come in with us, you annoyance to society?” I asked exasperated. I was a hair away from clocking him in the head.

My reply was dead silence. I smirked as Jackson and I proceeded to enter Mr. Linden’s overly humble abode. It was dark, dour, and disgusting, but that didn’t hinder our exploration. The sunlight could hardly breach the darkness and I watched the specks of dust swirling around the room.

“Does he ever clean this place?” Jackson coughed, kicking  a door open. After peering in a realizing there was nothing to see, we made our way towards the basement door and attempted to open it. The door was locked, more locked than the front door. The realization only egged us on.

It was a thick wooden door, bolted shut. I ran my fingers along the door, examining it and trying to find a way to open it.

“This door was made recently,” I said, “And from a young tree.”

“There’s no door knob,” Jackson said in a harsh whisper.

“Interesting,” I said, “But there has to be a key somewhere.”  Where would a creepy old man leave the key to his deepest darkest secret? My eye caught on a slightly raised floorboard. Bingo.

“Help me,” I said as I gestured to the floorboard. I smirked as I realized the board wasn’t even nailed down. How pathetic.

I slipped my hand inside as Jackson struggled to lift the board. I wrapped my fingers around the key, slipping it out of it’s hiding place.

I was quick to unlock the door and slide it open, slipping into the darkness of Mr. Linden’s basement. The adrenaline of our adventure pumping through my veins, I ventured deeper and deeper into the unknown. With Jackson close on my heels, our breathing hard and uneven, we reached the floor of Mr. Linden’s basement. I immediately wanted to leave. There was a rancid smell filling the room, it was cold and I could feel the gooseflesh raise on my skin.

“There’s a dead fox in the corner,” Jackson stated, dumbly. I suspected that that was not the  cause of the horrid smell. My eyes scanned the dank room, processing it in my mind. My eyes locked in on a glass case filled with books in the corner of the room. Before I realized it, I was walking towards it with the intention to take something. I suppose there was a name for this, the need to take things that don’t belong to you simply because you want to. Kleptomania.

The glass case was completely clean, not a single speck of dust in sight. There were large books sitting inside the case, stacked on shelves. A certain book caught my eye, black with gold writing on the spine. Had I found this book anywhere else, I would have passed it by, but seeing as it was so treasured, it must have some value.

“This place is creeping me out. What’s so interesting about a dirty basement,” Jackson whined from the other side of the room. I really should have gone by myself, these peons are of no use to me.

I ignored him and continued as I was doing. I heard him grunt in response.

I opened the case and slid the book off the shelf carefully, as if it was going to break. I nearly flung it to the floor as I realized it was completely blank. Not a word, nor picture on any page. The more reasonable part of me decided that I should just take it, as I didn’t break into a house for nothing.

“Let’s….” the words died on my lips as I spied a gleam coming from a closet near me. With the book shoved under my arm, I made my way towards it. I flung the closet open to reveal a shiny sword in it's scabbard laid glimmering though there was no light coming into the room. I smiled as I realized this was the best thing I’ve even stolen, the book was…. A bonus.

I grabbed the sword and made my way to the stairs. I nearly dragged it, as it was quite heavy. Jackson was already slinking up behind me.

“That was a bust. You got all the good stuff,” he complained. I felt my intelligence declining as I spent more time with the neighborhood boys.

Donnie and Edward had already finished digging when Jackson and I reached them. They were sitting in the grass, pulling at the wild flowers. They looked like complete pansies.

“What’d you find?” I asked.

“Just a book,” Edward said, standing up and dusting off his pants.

“We didn’t get anything good,” Donnie said huffing. He was such a child. We began making our way back to town.

“You didn’t want to go in, so you can’t complain,” I said. The trees began to thin and soon we reached the outskirts of town. I waved them off and headed towards my house. I slipped into the house, the silence thick and heavy.

I made my way up towards my room and dropped the book off on my bed. I turned to see my sister leaning against my doorway. I raised an eyebrow at her, questioning her presence.

She stared hard at me, a little too hard for a girl her age. "What is that? Father will have a fit if he sees that," she said, giving me a look that only mothers should use.

"Mind your business Alessa. You're not my mother," I said, glaring at her. This is why my sister irritates me. I'm five years older than her, yet she treats me like a child.

"You cannot tell me to mind my business when you bring dangerous weapons into the house! Where did you find it?" she's such a pest, always inquiring and picking in things she shouldn't.

When I chose not to answer her, she continued with her interrogation, "You're not  stealing again, are you? You really have no sense at all. One day you will steal the wrong thing or from the wrong person and you will regret it. I'm warning you now Adriano Benedetto Sabini, one day you'll regret your idiotic, childish actions,” I couldn’t sit there and get lectured by a twelve year old girl, so I took the sword in my hand and tried to push past her.

She stood steadfast in my path. “One day you’ll have to grow up, Adriano. You are no longer a child. You should be married by now,“ I gave her a dramatic eye roll.

“The day I grow up, is the day you act like a child for once,” I said finally pushing past her.

“And don’t touch that book, Alessa. I want you to leave it alone. You may not treat me like an older brother, but you still have to listen to me,” I warned as I say her eyeing the book on my bed. I heard her humph behind me. That was her biggest character flaw, Alessa was headstrong and stubborn, but she would swear up and down that I was the same way.

I made my way to the wide field behind our house, the sunlight dancing on my skin as the sun dodged the clouds. I quickly unsheathed the sword, watching as it glimmered in the sunlight. I was completely speechless at the sight of it, it was like nothing I’d ever seen before. It didn’t even look like it was made of any rock I’d known about. It was completely unique in every way, from the sharp pointed double blade to the unique design on the handle. Even the blade shape was unique.

It was similar to the medieval great swords I had learned about, but it was better. I read the inscription written on the face of the sword. Sword of Splendor was written completely in Latin and I wondered who made it.

I would say that it felt like it was made just for me, but that would have been a lie. I had no idea how I had carried it out of the woods, as it was the heaviest thing I have ever held in my entire existence. I was holding it with both arms, but I nearly toppled over. I wondered how long I have to work to be able to hold it properly, or even swing it without it flying ten feet in another direction.

I was out there for hours, attempting to use that sword. I was sweaty and disgusting, but I was thoroughly satisfied, though that only lasted for a second.

There was a commotion going on as I made my way to the front of my house. There was screaming, crying, and curses flying around.

I grabbed the person closest to me and asked them what this was about. The woman’s eyes widened as she saw me, “Witch,” was the only word that passed through her lips. Something in the way she looked at me told me that something was very, very wrong.

I made my way to the middle of the crowd and nearly had a stroke. Alessa was on the ground convulsing and throwing up. Only this was not normal, Alessa was throwing up something that was not native to a human’s body. It was black and murky, moving and bubbling as it reached the floor. Her eyes were completely black, cornea and all. I needed to do something.

I calculated the situation. I had to think quickly or they would kill her, so I did the only thing I could at that moment. I grabbed her and dragged her into the house while the townspeople were still stunned. I proceeded to barricade our door, they would stay stund forever. No sooner than as I put our kitchen table in front of the door, that they began to bang and scream. I put more and more furniture in front of the door, until there was nothing left.

By that time Alessandra had come to and was sitting on the floor in a daze. I approached her cautiously, “Alessa, what is wrong with you?”

She looked up at me with a dazed expression, her eyes gradually returning to normal. She shook her head as if to tell me she didn’t know.

Before I could question her more, my parents came running into the room, late as they were.

“What is the meaning of this commotion?” My father screeched loudly over the sound of the mob.

“They think Alessa’s a witch! They want to kill her!” I said. There was a moment of complete silence despite the crazies outside banging and yelling. Their eyes were wide and their mouths opened like gaping fish. This lasted for what felt like hours. It felt like time had frozen with my parents staring at me in horror and disbelief, Alessa sitting on the floor, not quite comprehending the situation, and our so called neighbors shaking our house and screaming for my sister.

My mother was the first to speak, “You have to go.” I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. Go where?

“No. Absolutely not. I am not sending my children off anywhere. Have you forgotten Antonio so quickly?” My father protested.

My mother shook her head. “You cannot stay here, they will surely kill you both. You have to go, run! I won’t stand to lose any more of my children. I won’t stand to see them murder my children in their horrid ways!”

“Mother, where are we to go?” Alessa asked as she stood up, finally coming to terms with the current situation.

“An old friend of mine has come to town, down by the docks, with his boat. Go there, tell him I sent you, but be careful, as he’s not to be trusted. I want you to protect your sister, I want you to take care of each other. And don’t you ever, ever come back here, understood?”  She said grabbing my face.

I couldn’t do anything, but nod. I was shocked into silence. This morning I woke up thinking I would just be another mischievous kid doing idiotic things, but the future is always unknown.

“We need to pack,”Alessa said quietly, pulling me up the stairs. I blindly followed after her.

“We need to hurry,” I yelled to her as I shoved things into my satchel. I eyed the book that was previously lying on my bed, as it was now laying open in the middle of my room. I felt a slight chill as I shoved it into my bag.

With a frown on my face I entered my sister’s room, “Alessa, don't lie to me. Did you touch my book?”

I got my answer from her downcast eyes and the stiffness of her shoulders.

“I told you not to touch it, didn’t I?” I asked in a low voice. My jaw was taut and my fists were clenched tightly.

“Let’s go,” I said before angrily making my way downstairs.

I made my way downstairs, ignoring the chants of “Give us the Witch!”

“Here,” mother said, handing me a bag filled with bread and dried foods, “Move quickly, you don’t have time to rest.” I nodded before she pulled me into a lingering hug.

“Be safe,” she whispered in my ear. She pulled Alessa in and did the same. My father brought us in for a stiflingly tight, bone crushing hug before pushing us out the back door.

“Now run,” he whispered, watching us leave his sight and knowing he’d never see us again.

We ran like mad, chests heaving, hearts going into overdrive. Our feet pounded the ground faster and faster, for fear that we were being followed. We ran even as the sun left our sight and no longer guided our feet. I held tight to my sister’s hand nearly dragging her behind me. she constantly begged for me to slow down, but I couldn’t, she didn’t know. She didn’t know what they would do to her if they caught us, my mother always shielded her from the horrors of the witch trials. I wanted to preserve such innocence.

The sword on my hip was slowing me down, heavily slapping against my leg, but I knew I couldn’t leave it. We ran until the sun went down and our legs were burning. I eventually had to carry Alessa on my back and I nearly passed out from the weight, but I kept moving. I didn’t want them to find us, so I decided to I’d rest later, when we were far, far away.

I walked all through the night and into the morning. I watched as the sun found the sky again and the stars faded away. I breathed a sigh of relief when the trees began to thin out and I could see the sea in the horizon. That thought alone kept me going until we reached the docks.

It was a bustling little strip, emphasis on the word little. There were only three stores, but there were so many people, all of them pirates. They were dirty and grimy. I cringed. Mother could have told us her old friend was a pirate.

I felt Alessa stir on my back and I immediately put her down. I stretched my back, feeling that it was forever hunched.

“You're welcome,” I grumbled. I grabbed her hand and led her towards the boat, we were halfway down the dock when we heard a deep gruff voice from behind us.

“Wer do ya think yer goin,” he said. I was irritated by his lack of knowledge of the language called English.

“Are you the owner of this boat?” I asked, gesturing to the floating lump of wood.

“I am,” he answered.

“ We’re Sabinis, my mother said you’d take us with you,” I said giving him a leveled gaze. I refused to show him any fear. Alessa, on the other hand, didn’t share my train of thought.

“Why would I take a couple a runaways on me boat?” He asked, as he spoke his beard stirred. I could help, but think there was something living in there.

“If we go back, we’ll be killed. I won’t hand over my sister and I know you know what it feels like to not have a home to go back to,” I answered, tightening my hold on my sister’s hand.

“A’righty then,” he said, giving me a hard stare, “Right this way.”


We followed him onto the ship. It was exactly as I had expected, dirty. He leads us down into the cellar and into a tiny room.

“Her ya ar then,” he said still giving me a look. I didn’t trust him, I had reason not to. I closed the door after he walked out, turning to Alessa.

“Look, we’re not safe, you know that. So stick with me at all times, never leave my side. I don’t trust any of these men, you should do the same. We’re all we have now,” I told her, my hands on her shoulders.

“We’ll contact mother and father, right?” she asked, I nodded. I was thinking the same thing.

I sat on the small hard bed, remembering the book and slipping it out of my bag and onto my lap. Alessa sat down next to me, interested in what I was doing. The chill I had felt before returned as I opened the book. I felt as if there was more to it than what meets the eye, I was right, obviously.

A ghostly blue figure emerged from the book, my eyes went wide and I nearly dropped it. Luckily Alessa took the book from my hands and laid it on the floor, as if she had done it before.

“Hello again,” the figure spoke to my sister as I was too stunned to speak. Alessa waved as if she was an old friend.

“You brought the brat,” I was entirely offended by that statement.

“Who's a brat?” I sneered.

“And he speaks!” Alessa laughed and I gave her a heated glare.

“Why was I summoned?” the figure asked.

“You weren’t,” I said in a highly annoying way.

“You opened the book,” he said snidely.

“I opened the book before and nothing came out,” I said, confused.

“The book’s powers don’t work in that basement,” he explained as if I should have already known the answer. He was already on my bad side.

“Who are you? What are you? Why were you in that man’s basement?” I asked, shooting him rapid fire questions.

“I’m Erra, lord of the dark realm and the god of death of disaster. That old man was my keeper, who was given the book to make sure I didn’t do anything ‘bad’ per say,” he answered.

“At least you grabbed something of value,” Erra said, gesturing to the sword on my hip, “You’ll need it for your conquests.”

“Conquests?” I asked.

“You have to do something for me and I’ll do something for you,” he said, “If you do conquests for me, I’ll give you something in return.”

“What will you do for me?,”I asked, not believing a word he said.

“Something,” he said in such an irritating way I almost shut the book.

“I’m not doing any conquests,” I said.

“Hey, you begin to die the day you are born, you just don’t know it yet. Might as well live while you’ve got time,” he said, uncharacteristically wise words coming from his mouth.

“You mean die,” I said, correcting him.

“I’ll tell you where your brother is, if you do,” Erra negotiated.

“How?” I asked, with my eyebrow cocked.

“I know where he is, simple. He’s not dead, as you probably assumed, I would know,” he said nodding to me.

“I’m not agreeing to anything, but I’ll see where this goes,” I said, a ghost of a smile on my face.

All I knew was, if there was a chance that I could reunite my siblings and I, I would take it. I might as well live before I die, quoting Erra.


The author's comments:

I had originally written this as a story behind the picture Mr. Linden's Library from the book The Mysteries of Harris Burdick.


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