I am a lower-class serf belonging to the noble family Blessed. Well, that is what they call themselves anyway. They have a rather different name among us of lowly birth, the Cursed is what we call them, not because they themselves carry any sort of curse, no! That would be much better.
They are called the cursed, especially by us serfs, for one reason and one alone: they abuse the immortality the Emperor granted his people, granted me! Yes, that is right, immortality, but the Blessed make this gift nothing but a curse.
You may wonder why I write this. After all, if this is ever found, I would be reassigned or even sold, but the future belongs to the next generations to come. I can only hope that by the time I am thrown into that hell, someone will set us free from either our torment or, better yet, our meaningless existence.
"An excerpt from a nameless slave's mad carvings" - A fool's rambling
"This novel is excellent. I wonder if mother and brother would like it?" Said a small boy, eyes wide with joy as a child would a new toy, "It has been so long since we had a slave who could write, I do wonder how long this one will last. Then again, he mentioned solitary, and it is ever so difficult to find anything in solitary, maybe I could ask father to fetch this one?" The boy looked less joyful this time, his eyes glancing down toward his leather shoes.
As the child looked towards the ground, steps approached, click clack, click clack. The boy, seemingly lost just moments ago, glanced up, seeming surprised at the approaching sound of steps, "Mother!" the boy cried out ", Why ever are you here? I had thought you disliked the paddock? Well, no matter really." The boy's eyes curved into crescents, his mouth stretched to a sickening degree into a smile that any person would find terrifying, from ear to ear, quite literally.
The woman approaching the child froze for but a moment at the look directed her way. This moment of hesitation did not escape the boy, and his smile, already enough to make a grown man cry in horror, grew even deeper, his eyes narrowing into slits curving almost as much as his smile. "Mother, I know you are new, but we have spoken about this. If you walk towards someone, you shouldn't stop. What if the person thinks they have some hair stuck out, or worse, that you are scared of something?" The boy's tone was rather cold, creating an illusion that the boy was no human, but a snake wearing a boy's skin.
Almost immediately, the woman known as 'mother' spoke in a rather hasty tone ", No Damien! Your hair is absolutely perfect, Rosalyn,"
The boy now known as Damien snapped back, hearing this name "Mother?! What have I told you about this?" The boy's smile disappeared into a heavy frown, his eyes widening just enough to see his pupils dilatate, 'Mother' responded rather quickly this time, her rushed movement as if trying to kneel obvious, but she knew she could not kneel "Damien, I do apologise for that. I meant your Mother Rosalyn, I know you hate us sounding distant, using just a name," The woman's voice trembling at her apparent mistake.
"I know, mother, I really do, but I still cannot forgive you, mother, you know the rules… But it just so happens I require a volunteer, shall I ask father to allow you to take this on?" The boys smile now, looking radiant. To a casual observer, he would look like a golden boy, but his mother knew better: "Damien, please allow me to correct my mistake, anything you wish for!" Damien's' smile deepened back to the inhuman levels of depth from before, "Anything you say?" sounding positively delighted at the prospect.
Mother affirmed, "Anything for you, Damien, anything", her eyes wet with moisture and her legs trembling. Mother was now on her knees, a position of servitude; this was a mistake on Mother's part, and she knew what was coming next, but after a few seconds, nothing happened, and Damien still wore his eerie smile. Damien pulled out his communication device from an apparent strap on his wrist and spoke: "Father, great news, Mother is going to do me a favour, an incredibly important favour!" After a second of silence, a deep voice replied, "That sounds rather interesting. What favour have you asked the woman for?"
The boy, not missing a beat, replied, "She is going to find the slave who can read and write for us, I suspect he may be in solitary"
All of a sudden, as soon as that word "solitary" was mentioned, Mother collapsed back to her knees, neither Damien nor the man Damien addressed as father seemingly interested in the puddle gathering at her knees or the fact that her tears had now turned red from her eyes widening with such force she tore a now visible stitch in the corner of her eye, now with her eye threatening to escape 'mother' screamed, not words and surprisingly not from pain either, this was an instinctive howl of terror and 'mother' knew she had no choice in the coming matter.
A moment later, Damien stood over the woman, now foaming at the mouth and bleeding from her right eye, "It is such a shame, I rather liked this one, but what can you do when they break and act spoiled? Mother! Mother!" the boy ended his musing with two calls confirming that 'mother' was now unconscious "Oh well!" lamented the boy "I really wanted to say goodbye, I suppose I shall have to leave you with a Blessing, sweet dreams 'mother' dearest whatever number you were, you tried… But please try harder for my favour, I really want a new reader, and you slaves are usually such bores."