Tala

Chapter Two Part One

How I visualize Jakins’ blacksmith shop, though with a little less modern-day equipment. Fendt in German apparently has something to do with agriculture.

“Jakin!”

He reached out his hand toward the shadowy figures, grasping at air.

“Mother! Father!” he screamed.

A Skazic dragged away the figures. Jakin fought hopelessly against the one holding him. But he was so small, and the Skazic was too strong.

“No! Please!”

Tears streamed down his face. It was too late. Too late for any of them.

“Jakin!” This second voice sounded too real and too high-pitched to be his mother.

He sat up, rubbing his eyes. I hate that nightmare, he thought.

Someone pounded at the door. Like most shop owners, his living quarters were above the blacksmith forge below. Looking out the window, he saw that the night was still pitch black. Flipping to the side, he intended to go back to sleep, forcing the customer to come back in the morning.

“Jakin, please!” A female voice echoed. “I need your help!”