An Old Man's Story

Fantasy written by Crimson Sky on Friday 18, November %4

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An old man tries to help his granddaughter by telling her a story

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The night was quiet, except for the rustling of leaves and the crackling of the campfire. An old man sat on a log near his fire, a long pipe in his hand. Shadows dance across his wrinkled face, his long grayed beard, and flowing robes of purple and orange. An ornate staff rests next to him; the blue gem that sits atop it casts odd shades of blue to flicker with the shifting of the flames. “Grandpa? Why are you still awake? You need to get your rest, we have a big day tomorrow.” A young woman, no older than 20, comes out of the tent nestled a few feet from the campfire. “I hope I didn't wake you. It seems sleeping gets harder as you get older.” The old man said with a small chuckle. He wiped his eyes and sat up a little straighter, clearing his throat. “And what about you? Plagued by the burden of excitement, are we?” Another chuckle. This one was accompanied by a bright smile. The woman sat down next to her grandfather, reaching down and retrieving a flask from the bag that lay next to the log. “You could say that. I’m just…I’m not sure what I’m doing.” She pulls the cork from the flask and takes a quick swig. Her face immediately twists as the harsh liquid inside hits her taste buds. She holds out the flask as she attempts to blink away the bitterly sour taste of the drink. Her grandfather takes it and has a sip himself. He too makes a face at the taste, but still brings the flask back to his lips for a second sip. “I just want to run away, leave everything behind. For the last week I’ve woken up every morning feeling like there’s a countdown on my life.” She takes the flask back and attempts to drownd her anxiety. “Do you know what will happen once this countdown hits 0?” The woman takes a breath, finally bringing the flask down; but she doesn’t answer. She stares at the fire and her eyes drift. Her grandfather could tell by her expression that whatever she was going through weighed heavy on her thoughts and her heart. After several seconds of silence, he spoke. “You know, I ran away once.” (This was just some random writing i did before bed. But I like were it is going and want some opinions even though it is very short. )
   

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  • Well, it is very short. However, it seems as if it begging to make it longer. Why not do so?

    You have some mixed tenses in here. You need to clean that up. On the plus, very good imagery.
    - November 30 2022 23:27:30