Journal Of Arlan Meynolt
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((The following is written on an old worn Journal, it seems to shift from timelines, some of it may be the writers past while others the writers present))
Its dark, the solid concrete floor is cold and all I have to keep myself warm is a worn fur cloak. My name is Arlan Meynolt, I used to be a private of the Troff Legion. Now I am Arlan Meynolt prisoner in the Legion’s Dungeons. I’m alone down here all I have to keep me company is a rat who I share half my food with and an old doll, I refuse to talk to the doll.
Sitting in this dark dank room made me think of how lucky I was up there, I always complained about the rain up top, now as I lay under the dripping water from the roof, not caring if its rain water or waste, I realize how much I miss the feeling of rain dripping down my body, I miss everything.Its dark, the soft worn mattress I sleep on is warm but the cold air keeps blowing in, to keep myself warm I have a large think blanket. My name is Arlan Meynolt, I’m an orphan by definition but I don’t really consider myself one. I look over to my side, my sister, Lyda is sleeping soundly, her little doll by her side I smile knowing that she is at peace. She always talks about how I was sent by Sune, Being a little girl she didn’t know any better but to an adolescent boy like me, I stare at her with disbelief in what she just implied, of course whoever is reading this, I am not that kind of person. What I think she refers to is how I protect her from all the “monsters”, Ha, these monsters are nothing more than rodents scampering in the farmhouse we call home. While we don’t have any good possessions to our name I think we live a perfect existence, I don’t care we don’t have parents, I never knew them, I don’t miss them at all.
