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The Architect - Chapter 2
Wraithmasrsh
Series Moments in Time - Fable Stories by Ben McQueeney (Teethman, Wes Green)
Chapter 2
Writer Wes Green
Chapter Chronology
Previous The Architect
Next The Architect - Chapter 1
The Architect Chapter Chronology The Architect - Chapter 1

Chapter 2. The end chapter of the Architect. The reason the end comes before the middle is because the impact of understanding the story mid way through after you know the end is a lot better. That's why the architect should be read Chapter 0-->2-->1. Enjoy!!

The Architect Chapter 2Edit

He sat there thinking. It felt like he’d been there forever. Day after day after day.

I’m like a glorified guard.

Still, it was better then some of the others he’d heard about. At least here he got some passing trade every once and a while.

So to speak.

It was gloomy and cold. Like it always was everyday. He could remember when it used to be warm and bright. He could still hear the laughter from the children and smell the roasted hog on a nearby fire. They were great times. It was always busy always full of life.

All gone now.

A loud croak could be heard nearby.

There does seem to be a lot of toads recently. I must do something about that. I don’t want toads on the path. Could put the punters off.

“Shuuue, you vile creatures” he said with a forceful tone.

He heard another croak.

Is this what I’ve become? Resorting to shouting at toads? How humiliating.

He was silent which felt like two or three days.

It possibly was.

Time moved fast for him. It was raining again and the gloom and fog was particularly bad today.

What I would give to see loads of people here again. Like old times. It would be so great 1, 2….no 10 at least that would be amazing.

“Instead I have you lot” he said into the darkness. He didn’t hear any croaks in reply.

“Bugger you then” he said as if he’d expected a response from a group of frogs.

“Bugger who?” a voice said in return.

He recognised the voice instantly. One of his regular punters. Regular was anything from 1 to 10 years. He was relived that he had a “Punter” it had been such a long time even if it was this one who he was never fond of. The punter was holding a massive bunch of fresh flowers and wearing his massive distinct smirk.

“Well? Bugger who old chap?” the punter said.

“The toads” he replied.

The punter started laughing as he did he flicked a few loose black haisr back that had fallen over his face

“Are you serious? You lot get stranger and stranger over the years. It’s all terribly worrying really”

“Why are you here again B…?”

The punter interrupted abruptly.

“Now Now….I have a new name and don’t respond to the old one now. Terribly boring. You surely know that by now?”

“You’re looking old.” He said to the punter with an air of humour knowing it would irritate him.

“You think so? Well I will have to address that then wont I?”

The punter patted some dust off what looked like a very expensive pair of trousers.

“I don’t care for this place.” The punter said whilst continuing to pat off the remaining marks.

“You don’t? That’s funny you must have a short memory, you posh bugger”

“That’s quite enough of that old boy I don’t care for your tone either. This hell hole technically isn’t my fault after all” The punter started to arrange the flowers he was holding happily.

Before he had a chance to reply the punter spoke softly

“Of course I’m here to pay my respects, such a lady deserves it I think it may be time to get her a new gravestone, the flowers keep falling over whenever I visit.””

“You can’t visit her not this time” he said loud and clear.

I’m like a glorified guard.

“I can and I will. Move aside or our three mutual friends may have to get involved. You know exactly what they’re capable of” the punters face was contoured into a twist of annoyance.

He did know exactly what they were capable of and it scared him.

“Very well, but only 5 minutes” he said defeated.

“Thank you kind sir, I just want to give her these lovely flowers and then I’ll be on my way.”

Aye….. I bet you will…. to go find the next poor soul.

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