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7/25

Character Development/Short Story of Ludwig van Deor

The light filters through the windows and envelops anyone sprawled under it. It feels good to bask in the light and forget about your misgivings. “Ludwig, I have errands to run and won’t have time to go into town. Here’s the list; I expect you to be back by dusk.”

It was such a simple errand as well—just picking up milk and eggs, the usual. Nothing strange, nothing different; it was commonplace and mum had always asked me to do it. The main road takes a large bend to town, and it is much quicker to cut through the dense wood. ‘I know it like the back of my hand!’ was a small lie, but everyone had faith in what I pretended to know.

As usual the family from up the road was out hunting, in which they would skin for quite a large sum. It was usually bear or rabbit, but upon further inspection they had shot and dragged a large deer. Of course I ate meat, but seeing it barely dead or alive right in front of me always made me jumpy. It must have been those terrifying glass-like eyes. I had a firm hold of the trunk, watching them slice the doe open. Taking a deep breath I started to move on, slowly, not to direct any attention to myself. I was always afraid I would step on a branch and jolt; they’d chase with guns thinking I was game.

I believe I woke up on the wrong side of the bed.

They didn’t give chase with gun in hand necessarily. It was more like a quick glance and quick fire. I honestly don’t know why I began to run. Maybe if I stopped and waved, yelled ‘I’m your neighbour Ludwig, how are you?’ the whole ordeal would have worked out better. But I kept running, or, trying to run would have been a better descriptor. I had never been shot before, and I never imagined it to hurt like it did—the folk in movies looked nonchalant about it and continued fighting. I couldn’t stay calm or casual about it and attempted to grapple at my thigh hoping the bullet would turn up in my palms. He must have hit a good vein, as it was only a short period of time before I was lightheaded and gone.

I had a strange dream—there was a deep, thick voice speaking to me. He scolded me with reasons, and if I tried to rebuttal he would yell. He called himself the King of the Forest. Each bellow shook the ground with formality and a small amount of grace. The posture his voice had was definitely royalty, but what kind of appointment did he have with me? In my dreams I’m much more poignant and confident in my dreams, and answered with sass that did not end in approval. I’m going to note: never talk with a sharp tongue during dreams. It seems whatever I did, did not please him very much.

And that’s how I woke up looking like this.
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Appendix

★☆★

Due to my hereditary lack of energy, I have been hibernating since childhood.
Hi, I'm mx! I go to college for Graphic Design because I am a smart kid! I love to draw animu and I like food and video games. I talk about stupid personal things that no one cares about!! I'm gay for space.

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