“Hero of Brightwall”

It was a cold, dark day in Albion: thousands of birds had flown away and many animals ran too. I was actually almost to Albion—a trip that took a full two hours from Aurora—-so I could watch such a sight, but to my dismay, I was too slow. Upon Albion, I saw munchkins running along, playing “Tag”, laughing jubilantly. Tailing such a group downtown, I found a tall, looming building: it had a light that spun around and around at night. Glass windows at it’s top, shining a variation of colors for all to watch. It’s job was to stand guard against stormy nights and watch out for nomads sailing across our boundary main.

Glacing at the curiosity, I found it alluring and fascinating. Who built such a thing? I thought, now walking away from it, and towards a road about a block down. Walking down it, I came upon a young girl who was small and had long, black hair—playing with a doll, wearing a hat, that also had torn arms and legs. “Hi.” I said, holding out my hand.

With a soft voice,“Yes, ma’m?”

“Which way to Brightwall?”

“You must go towards the mountains.”

“Mountains?” Looking up and out past Albion’s walls, I saw mounds of land itself, looming, casting it’s shadow on a small town within it’s grasp. “I have to walk through that?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.” I say, grabbing a coin from my pouch. “For your information. Also, what should I call you?”

“May,” May said, taking my coin and putting it inside a hat that sat atop soft, black hair on such an ugly doll; making both hat and hair contrast horribly.

Waving with a doll’s torn arm, May ran away with a grin.

Also with a grin, I turn around and walk away, laughing.