Second Point of View

You walk into the building, avoiding the glances of others. You understand completely what they want and you don’t want to get caught up in their problems. You’ve mingled with them once, and you were completely disappointed in them.

Money. Power. Money.

These go on in your head and you understand that having one, earns the other.

You walk within the crowd. You don’t want to leave, even though you know that these kind of people can destroy you within a snap of their manicured little fingers. You know that they can, but you also know that they won’t, for they are cowards and wouldn’t attack on someone, until they have completely gotten them under their control.

You continue walking, noticing how many people were in the building. You decide to blend in and eavesdrop on some strangers’ conversations, because you know that there is always a good story when large masses of people get together.

You press your weight on the wall and laugh inwardly at the fact that a group of high-class civilians happen to have no intention of concealing their conversation. You notice that they not speaking in full sentences.

One of them is named Histrey and you take joy that there is someone in the world that is cursed with such a name as that. Another one is named Fram and he appears to be the father of the one they were talking about. You take note that Fram doesn’t seem to care for his son very well.

You take your leave just as the father says “Not anymore” and proceed to find another theater to amuse you. You walk slowly, for you know that you may pick up something realistically ludicrous that it may be enough to sell.

You hear a rumor about a witch in the neighboring town and you laugh at them inwardly. You ask yourself how simply shallow people can be when they are trying to snag lots of attention.  You know that this rumor might have been just a hypothesis a few minutes ago, about a young girl with black hair, black eyes and a queer mysterious attitude.

You smile and you know that you will be richer once again.

You walk out of the building, not bothering to look back, knowing that you have gotten what you want and won’t be coming back for a long, long time.

Good Bye.

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First Point of View

First Point of View

I walk into the building, not bothering to look at the other guests. I know that they will have their fake smiles and their well-practiced, phony expressions on their faces. I haven’t been living under a cave for the last sixteen years of my life and I know quite well the extent people stretch to get what they want.

Money. Power. Money.

I don’t get why people strive to get both at the same time, for you get the other automatically when you get one. When you have money, you get power. When you have power, you get money.

Still, I walk within the crowd. I have no intention of leaving, despite knowing the fact that any of these frauds could destroy my well-maintained reputation in one petty little second. Yes they could, but they wouldn’t.

And so, I continue walking, engulfed by the masses of people inside the building. Blending in, I decide to eavesdrop, for it is always good to know something only a select number of people know.

I lean against the wall, listening as a group of apparently high class dukes and duchesses mutter discreetly to each other. Unbeknownst to them, I could hear them loud and clear.

“Unacceptable!” One of them says, articulating each syllable with obvious bitterness.

“Histrey!” Another scolds him, “He’s still a relative.” Apparently ‘Histrey’ is a name.

A man speaks up, “The disown him, I say! Nothing’s worse than an ungrateful—“

“Fram, he’s your son!” I can sense the obvious disgust on Histrey’s voice as he cut Fram off.

“Not anymore, he’s not!”

I get tired of the heated conversation and walk again. I decide to walk very slowly, in case I hear an interesting exchange of words amidst the whispers and murmurs around the room. I didn’t find anything I was interested in, but I overheard some rumors about a witch in the village. Obviously, it isn’t real and was just made up by some middle-class civilian, yearning for some attention from the higher classes, but she was quite a good storyteller.

I smile. This would make for a very good article.

I walk out of the building, not bothering to look back. I know that I have succeeded in accomplishing my mission and I feel pretty contented. I have been living among these people for almost two decades and it still amazes me how they are very legitimate rumor-starters.
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First Point of View.

This is part of an exercise wherein I am supposed to write a single piece in numerous points of view. 

Second Point of View