Archive for September, 2013


Sometimes I wonder what is in North Amara. Sometimes I know better then to wonder what’s out there.


Yesterday I was returning to my home in the Inn and I was paying attention to the folks in front of me as usual. Then I wondered why I pay so much attention to my world.

They all looked ordinary around me. But if you dig into their stories you will find that no one is ordinary.

For example the woman sitting on the door step of the red sandstone building.

Looking at her you see a common Toyfem of about thirty years. And you can see she is wearing leather shoes, a dress made of red and orange dyed wool of reasonable quality. The stitching shows common skills for a tailor who made it. Her hair is the common long black hair most likely longer than mid back. She appears reasonably clean. Her mannerisms and apparent emotional state indicate a woman happy with her life and not wanting for food or shelter.

Look again but this time look at her time line.

Not many can do that. There are a few Chronomages and a few Time Priests who can successfully prove they have the skills. But they will not admit to it publicly. The King may have one or two in his staff. The University might have one or two as perhaps does the Colleges of Priests. But I can bet the Watchers employ the most among their ranks.

I want to be a Watcher. But you can’t simply walk up to one and say you want to be a Watcher. They come to you when it is your time.

Now back to the woman. I do have a bit of time vision. I can look back three maybe four days maybe three days forward at best and I need to truly focus specially upon doing so. So I will sit on the low wall across from the Toyfem.

Looking back as far as I can then working forward. I see her at home with a male child of near five years age. They are eating mid day meal while she instructs the child in Toydon Scripting. The woman is the wife of a merchant in Tepton Square. They live in a modest stone two story home nestled among dozens of other lower homes. She is smiling as she instructs the child. I look down upon their practice slate. He is doing well. Already learning the third line stage of the script. I am able to scribe up to the fifth line stage. It gets hardest at fourth line stage of the script. The writing of the woman is meticulously neat. A professional scribe or lexigrapher perhaps.

I digress. They are happily teaching, practicing and learning. Then as the lad is eating a bite of fancy pastry he starts to turn very red of skin tone. He stops moving and stops breathing all the while getting redder of tone. He gasps and the woman looks up at him from her practice demonstration of the Tymore script. She had scribed the Tymore concept for water. Seeing his colour she panics and screams. Grabbing the child by his upper arms she shakes him all the while screaming in clear concise Toydon for help.

Her husband is working and three blocks away.

There is no one else home with the two of them. Tears begin rolling freely from her eyes as the boys eyes to start to water. The woman pulls him off the chair and lays the boy on the floor. She pushes on his chest as she tries to expel anything lodge in his throat but to no avail, the lungs do compress. Air does flow from his mouth. Yet he show no other responses. The screaming stop as she cries loudly. Not knowing what to do.

Suddenly a black smoke emits from his nostrils. The smoke wriggles and twists wildly going upwards.

Some may claim it was a spirit escaping the body. I am not sure. I watch them longer. The lad starts to breath normally. Then coughs. He moans then goes totally limp. Obviously dead now. Again the moaning and screaming of the woman is heard as she knows the boy has died. But does not know why he died. She sits with him to his left side. Until her husband returns home. The man walks in and see the grieving wife holding the dead boys hand and she is softly moaning in grief still. We know it has been more than six hours she has been like this. He doesn’t, but upon seeing the dead boy the man goes into a rage beyond acceptable. As he rushes forward and pushes the Toyfem away from the dead boy. The black smoke rushes in and goes into his open mouth. Disappearing from visual sight. The man starts roaring angrily at the shrivelled woman. He instructs her to leave the house and never return. Screaming that she has killed their only child while knowing he can never father another.

Slowly the Toyfem stands while crying freely. Asking him to reconsider as she didn’t kill the boy. They were working on his script lesson and he just died. She could not help him no matter how hard she tried. He had simply bit into the pastry then before she knew what happen he stopped breathing. The man stood angrily and looked at the table. Picking up the pastry he bit into it. Then threw down the pastry onto the table. Screaming at her why she put the Walnuts into the pastry when she knew they made him sick. She replied his sister had brought the pastries earlier. The woman had assumed that they would be safe as his sister knows about the danger to the boy. The man struck the woman and pushed her out of their home saying she was lying about it. His sister would never put walnuts into a pastry for his son.

As the woman looked at the house’s front there was an observer across the road watching. The Toyfem observing the woman smiled, nodded to no one in particular and walked back into the shadows between the two building she had been standing in front of.

My thoughts are varied on what actually happened.

But I do know by following the time thread for her, she is homeless and hasn’t eaten for about a full day. She has had the well to do commoner appearance for the whole time since eviction from her home.

But following forward, she will die in two days of wounds suffered while attempting to gain access to her home.

Is this ordinary appearing woman really ordinary?

You tell me.

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