This is a very short story that was created around 1998. It should be stated that the goal is not proper writing technique but to create a story in as few words as possible that delivers enough info to make it an interesting story. This would make an interesting series, following this guy around to see how he lives his life. This story will be used as a test story from time to time. Maybe it can be edited and expanded within the Myth Syndicate system.
- An Angel of Sorts -
I am a citizen unlike any other. I partake in my community with a caring and pride unparalleled by none such as I. I am an angel of sorts, procuring responsibility and dispensing my opinion in the form of wrath. Ah yes, my opinion – justice – right – good. I believe myself to be good and yes others of high moral fiber and standing would agree. My means of employment is of no concern to you, my goal though is. I wish to make all purified of evil. Dispense with the formality, I am as I say and angel of sorts. Mind you angel is quite a powerful word but provocative and at some level useful. How could I call myself anything but an angel of sorts, maybe keeper of good, or protector of right, or hammer of virtue. No, no, angel of sorts is as I see it. Ah! Needless rambling, I continue – …sorts?, what does it mean, less than, diverging from, bastardization of, Ah! Needless rambling, I continue once again. Uncompromising in my beliefs my creator has seen it that I have the will and the means to dispense my opinion in the form of wrath. I have a collection of prophecies ancient and modern and I believe I have been prophesized. What burden do these shoulders bare, I am sick with it. Although sick would not be the best choice of words, maybe topped, full, overflowing. Ah! Needless rambling. I will continue once again and will not deviate again. Double use of one word, that is incorrect and unsatisfactory, I must think of a replacement, and will not deviate further, forthmore, farther (a scream is heard) Dear god man! What have you done now, how did you remove your bindings, for this offense you must pay. Why can not the captured submit to their fate. (Grabbing a meat cleaver while forcing the man down to his knees, causing him to stretch out his arm flat on a small table, spreading out the mans index finger while curling under the other four) WAK!
Ah yes, one index finger of an evil scourge who was set to coerce the minds of the multitude but for me. A comely sight, virtue buttressed with the tiny digit and the crimson pool only a testament to my willingness to achieve an end and proof that this demon is but mortal.
Dear god where was I in this story anyway? Oh yes! An angel of sorts, keeper of good, protector of right, hammer of virtue. Have I lost so much dexterity in my middle years that I can no longer tie a knot? I think not, here this should be better. (retying knots).
As I was saying, I am highly respected although my good deeds go unnoticed, at least as of my doing. As by stealth do I go and cunning instincts do guide, as of yet unseen my own law abide. A witticism I have come to appreciate of my own making. My life absent recognition for deeds done in defense of good, an angel of sorts am I and an angel is not known as its past or future only its present, its now and so am I.
