Here's a thing. Three pages worth of a story that I want to write, but I keep getting distracted by school and other things.
A small island lay off the eastern coast of the kingdom. On the edge of that island was a small fishing village. A place that, seemingly, had always been there since the very first day of human existence. An unremarkable little place, the village, Alanya, managed to keep its economy afloat by trading their catch to the city of Remitia, which sat across the water on the mainland, connected to the island by a long stone bridge.
The people of Alanya led a fairly isolated life. They were but simple fishermen, living and dying in their village with hardly a word spoken to anybody but themselves. A few black sheep managed to escape the sleepy suburban place, never to be heard from again. The villagers tried to pretend that the so-called “deserters” had never existed. It was simpler that way.
A boy walked down the city's street, alone. And make no mistake, dear reader, the word street is accurate, for they had just the one, stretching and winding around the entire island, never branching off. The boy walked, idly kicking a small rock down the road as he headed toward his home. An unassuming boy, all things told. He looked to be in his late teens. Tall, with long, dark black hair and pale white skin. His hands stored in the pockets of his dark blue denim jeans as he walked. Arms covered by the long sleeves of his black jacket, laying unzipped over his vibrant red shirt. The boy smiled to himself, untroubled by the aura of strangeness that permeated the air around him. The villagers didn't care for him much. But he didn't expect them to, really. Because the boy had no name.
Not for lack of trying, though. The villagers had tried time and time again to name the boy, and they simply couldn't find one that stuck. Something about the names they tried to give him seemed... off. They called him Jack at first, but found that every time they referred to him by that name, somebody would fall extremely ill. Franky and Lewis had similar effects. Seth stuck a little longer, until a girl that he had taken a liking to said the name and was struck by lightning immediately afterward. She survived, but never talked to the boy again. So they tried again. And again. And then again.
The boy eventually found a solution. He started calling himself Nihil. He figured that if he couldn't be named, why not just call him 'nothing' ? The name still felt strange on their tongues, but speaking it no longer struck people down. So it was an improvement, at least.
The trouble that the villagers went through trying to name him had all ready soured his reputation at this point, though. The people feared him. Refused to associate with him at all, for the most part. Which was a shame, really. Because Nihil was actually a very nice boy. And he really did wish that he could make friends. But he understood where the people's fear came from. After all the trouble that he put them through, he didn't suppose he'd be too keen on making friends with himself, either if he'd been in their shoes. So he kept to himself and smiled, hoping somebody might pluck up the courage to give him a fair chance. Not that he expected them to or anything.
Nihil walked quietly, humming a tune to himself. His day at school had gone the same as it usually did, passing by uneventfully, keeping his head down and doing his best not to upset any of his five fellow classmates. And as he did everyday, he left quickly and headed for his adoptive father's home. He didn't run into anybody on his way there.
He opened the front door and walked inside. Nihil took a look around the front hallway. Two coats hung on the wall, neither of them his. A few pictures were framed and scattered around the hallway haphazardly. None of the lights were on. No noise could be heard in the house at all.
“Dad must be out fishing.” he muttered quietly. His dad was almost always out fishing. Nihil never seemed to see him around the house at all. Taking off his hoodie and tossing it onto the couch nearby, he made his way into the kitchen. Nihil rummaged around for a few minutes, searching for food. It appeared that his dad hadn't bought any groceries yet. The refrigerator stood empty, appearing almost as if it had never once had food placed inside of it since the dawn of man. He managed to find some bread in the pantry. He grabbed a few slices and walked toward his bedroom, chewing quietly.
Nihil ate his bread in silence, sitting on his bed with his back against the wall. He grabbed a book and started reading quietly. And with that act, he wasted away his day.
The morning came shrieking through his window like a banshee. With a groan, Nihil threw his hand up to the sky, shielding his face from the sun's angry rays. He let his pupils adjust to the light before getting up, heading down toward the kitchen as slowly as he could stand to get himself there.
“Hey there.” a cheerful voice rang loudly. “You're up late.” Nihil merely grunted unceremoniously, heading toward the kitchen to find something edible. Still no luck there. He sighed with frustration before turning to his father.
“Why don't we ever have any food?” he complained.
“It's just not that high on my list of priorities.” his dad answered, an almost irritating smile stretched across his face.
“Not high on....? Dad, we have to eat! To live!”
Nihil pinched the bridge of his nose gently between his fingers. He let out an irritated sigh.
“So what do you suggest I eat, then?”
His father gave a light-hearted shrug and turned away, still grinning in a way that only he could. Nihil often wished his father was capable of giving a damn, but it didn't seem to be an ability that would ever grace him with its presence. Nihil walked out of the room quietly, slipping into his shoes and walking out the front door, stomach still growling like a voracious beast. He turned and began to walk down the road.
