Short excerpt from a story that kind of came to mind. Feedback is welcome, as writing is a skill that is never truly mastered.





	I lay on the ground in a pool of my own blood, my body broken. My sight was fading from this world and into the next when I saw it all again. I was a confused child, not fully understanding what was going on. My family was negotiating a price on me to get enough silver for their ether. Before I knew it, the man they had been talking to grabbed my wrist as he tossed a pouch of coins on the floor. I was led outside to a sickly looking horse, where the man grabbed a length of rope and tightly bound my hands and feet. “Your first test”, he said with a wicked smirk on his face, “is to survive back to my house.”
	Only then did I notice the other end of the rope at my feet tied to his saddle. I instinctively tried to run, but fell flat on my face. I heard the click of the man's tongue and was starting to be drug across the dirt path out of my village. I could feel the ground grinding away parts of my skin as I slid across. A rock caught my left arm and left a good gash, creating a small trail of blood as we headed on. [i]Maybe someone will follow it and take me back[/i], I thought to myself. 'Twas a fool's folly however, no one ever dared to rescue a slave. Those who normally purchase them have private armies, or the powers of magic to be able to afford them. Another rock slammed into my head and my vision began to fade. If I had been more lucky, the concussion from that blow would have made sure I never woke. Lady Luck rarely chooses who to give her blessing to though, and I would soon learn exactly how much she had turned her back on me.