story part i

In the drawback is lithuania. closely connected to the far part scandanvian provinces, and the eastern byzanitine empire, the southern roman, the western british, french and spanish influences. the isles to south , are the greco-empires expanding from the meditterean to the caspian sea. beyond that are large provinces, and vast empires that are beyond this travellers knowledge. this is the articles of Jean Sebastian Madurasatha. My ancenstry is unknown to my fellow inhabitants. and in fact, my place in this part of the world is a mystery. i shall tell you why.

Seven and half years ago, i started a pilgrimage with my fellow brethern monks. we left from the isles east of our homeland. very far east. how we ended up there is another tale. Only three of us made the voyage. it was not an honest one. One man was stabbed to death for his food, and both of them were thrown in to the water by another who found it profitable to take two shares. Three others were raped, robbed, and killed- one of them was a girl, i think she must have been younger than 10. she didnt speak, thats why. the ones who survived- me, how did i make it. well the ship capsized. the waves were going to sink all the slaves anyway. they knew it thats why they sent out all the weak , sick women and girls and men who were problematic to the ship. they wanted to poke fingers and laugh. i still remember the sweat that fell of my beard . it was sticky , red, not mine.

her blood reminded me of the purple onions i loved to sizzle in my home. it was a small clay pot we used, and brushed green leaves, from tender coconut palms. it sticked to my hands. i think the sailor with the ugly mark , like a left hoofed horse - he sent the girl coarsing on her way up. her head was tied up to a board i think , so she failed to move her gums or jaws.i dont remember much. i remember a knife going deep somewhere, watching her mouth affixiate with pain, and eyes like talons, or so i thought but a bird had came closer smelling the musk of the young girls aroma probablly, trying to see the pillaged feast for itself. the knife was mine, but it was not going into the gruesome man . he was too big for me, even if i pited in the girl, there were waves, me , and goons, and women whose destiny would not extend beyond my own. we were all wicked. there was no pity now or before. the girl who died before us, she extended her arms almost to forgive me. but as her head lay down on the wood planks, i dont think i ever thought that i did anything. maybe thats why i felt a hot surge inside my shoulder.