delcourt
As the stranger approached, the dark sandstone walls on each side seemed to get colder. A man had retreated to the alley way after a long hour of haggling the merchants for the various trinkets he'd bring home to his wife and children. The cranny shaded the light of the sun and there was a crate. "Probably empty," the man though, sitting down on the wooden resting place. And now, the stranger towered over him letting out a single command, "get up." He wished he'd chosen a different crate.
At the beginning of the climb the boy was sure that the top was close. He could just barely see it from the soft patch of grass where he stood. "It should be easy from here," he though. "If I fall, this soft grass will catch me." And as he climbed the boy could see the top clearer, if only a little. He fell once as the ground came nearer he wasn't worried. He knew that he would feel no pain when he landed; but as he ascended higher up the incline each fall greeted him with a harder and harder landing. Before long the boy was hunched over from the soreness of his back and even though he wanted to stop, he knew he was so close. So he continued until one day the boy forgot why he began the climb in the first place. No longer did he ache to reach the top and it was then that the now old man said, "I think I'll find myself a soft patch on which to rest."
He drew an arrow, placing it onto the bow. As he pulled the string he inhaled. His breath had never sounded so hoarse before. "This is it," he thought. "Just this last one and then I'll never have to kill again." He let go and collapsed, letting out a sickening wheeze as he hit the ground. He opened his eyes and saw blood. Someone approached and although he no longer had the strength to look up, he knew who it was.
She entered the room, looking like an entirely different person. The new dress and shoes were uncomfortable and she didn't like the way heels made her feel like she was leaning forward. "There," Ellis smiled. "Now isn't that nice? This has been a stunning success!" I would make some sort of commentary about the current delusion of uniformity in a "proper society," but when you choose such an over stated metaphor, what's the point?
The towns people let out a collective gasp of horror. "Who could be responsible for such misfortune in your humble town?," spoke a stranger. He was a tall man. The long brown duster and luggage at his side made it clear he had just rolled into town. Perhaps resting from a long journey. "It seems such silence could only be accounted for in guilt! So why does no one speak?"