I am a thirty something year old that's had the same story playing in his head since I was a child. Let's see what happens, I guess.
Hurrying back to my apartment, I noticed that my commotion had alerted some nearby guards. They didn’t seem entirely interested in what was going on, just mildly curious. Whatever the case, I used the fact that they seemed distracted to get away. Nothing fancy here, just a power walk over the terrace and into my home. Upon entering my residence, I noticed a letter that had been slipped under the door. I pick it up and place it on my dresser for now and began to remove some of my clothing that had been torn because of that beast. The potion was beginning to wear off and the wound was starting to better, but the pain was still there whenever I walked. I couldn’t do anything myself, but Delilah could. What would I tell her?
Memoirs of a Political Dissident
Growing up in a poverty-stricken country like the Dominican Republic, you learn to appreciate a lot of things about life. Being an immigrant in a foreign land that does not make you feel welcome causes such deep seeded trauma that even in adulthood, I find myself talking to my therapist about this issue. Truth is, even at thirty, I still sometimes do not feel like this country welcomes me, and the caveat? I’m a middle of the road conservative, a “Trader Joe” republican; defined as someone who is fiscally conservative and liberal on certain issues. For some people, this is shocking to hear, and it’s even more shocking when the people who make you feel less welcome are the same people who fight for equality and acceptance.
I’ve always felt guilty for not being truthful to Delilah. She believes I make all my income from the shop, but the truth is Thom pays me very little – not because he doesn’t want to pay more, but because business has been slow. With Castegar taking over the forge without compensating Thom, whatever money can be made because of these expeditions is no longer an opportunity for him. While I hunt down my next potential whale, Roger of the Adventurer’s Guild is going to have to make do.
The two soldiers standing guard barely made eye contact with me, as if the approval from Thom was the authority, they needed to let me pass. Walking inside, I noticed the forge was occupied by two individuals I did not recognize, while Thom was standing off to the side speaking to another gentleman, sweat running down his face. The constant rubbing of his palms gave me the insight that Thom was not only uncomfortable, but nervous. One of the men standing by the forge looked familiar, but he was certainly not from Isledon. Eventually, Thom took to my surprise and motioned me hurriedly to a corner by the forge and began to whisper.
It’s been about four years now, but I am as much of a disappointment to my parents today than I was then. I came to Isledon after being offered a rather illustrious internship to become a blacksmith. Jumping on the offer without doing a bit of research, I would later come to regret it. Shocking, I know. Thom’s an honest man, and I can’t fault him if I’m going to be fair. Blacksmithing just isn’t my passion. Truthfully, it never was. I came here to escape the growing grip of responsibility being bestowed upon me primarily by my father.
“What about this one, dear?” I’m sure she meant well, but I was not one for pomp and circumstance. And she knew this, but my mother was insistent. My mother also married when she was young, albeit too young in my opinion. Sometimes she feels the need to live through me vicariously, and I, the ever-doting daughter, allow her this fantasy.