The Troupe of Shattered Creations: Part one

October 3, 2010
By Anonymous

Ireland, 1832, at a well known pub, a waitress runs to the back of the store room and searches the floor for the latch she thought she'd never have to use. The others should be behind her shortly, but for now, she needed to find the latch to the tunnel that had worked as an escape route for so many of their more troubled customers. She would have cried out with joy when she finally found the latch, but she knew she must stay quiet. She quickly lifted the latch and slid down into the small crawl space and let the door fall back into place, leaving her in complete darkness. She crawled through the tunnel by feel alone. When the ground beneath her began to slope up, she began to crawl faster with hope that the end was close. Finally, she came to the opening in the shelter of the trees. She turned and watched the pub, telling herself that they would be coming out of the tunnel any minute now. She lost track of how much time had past, but still she waited and watched with hope.Much time later, movement outside the pub made her fly flat against the ground. Heart pounding, she watched as her family filed out, followed by what looked to be a wealthy noble in the dying light. A debt slaver. Her world crashed down around her as her family was taken away. She wept silently for the last time as she watched the pub, her home, catch fire.

The author's comments:
This is the first of 3 parts in a background story for a character I act out in a street performing group called The Troupe of Shattered Creations.

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