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Trace - Miscr3ant - 12-22-2020
My favorite time of day...night. I can watch them all pass by, the sheep...but they do not see me. Was I ever like them? Not likely. They are blind as well as stupid. People are that way, oblivious to their surroundings. You would think they would pay more attention, but they don't...and for that folly, they shall pay. Nothing is sacred, nothing is safe. There is an old saying; "what's mine is mine, and what's yours is mine". True words that. I walk through alleyways, staying to the shadows, my robes blending with the walls, with the darkness...for I have made my mark. A fat man, obviously successful, obviously drunk, with a whore on each arm. More the fool he, for she is as much as a thief as I...but I am the more dangerous, for from her at least he will receive fair trade for his valuables, whereas I will just steal what I wish, and make no trade, unless it be steel for foolishness on his part. Watching him stumble along, I am reminded of my father...another fat man, another fool. He thought he could make a merchant out of me, but I knew from the start his life was not mine. At least I am honest in my thievery, I make no pretentions. But he had hopes, hopes I dashed at every turn, learning my trade on the streets of the city. Oh he tried...tried in vain. "Where did that boy get to? I swear, he can disappear without a trace when he wants to!" The only thing he gave me that I kept; I needed nothing from him, for all else I shall take as I see fit.
Trace...as for names, it will do well enough.
The clouds thicken, the night deepens, the mark turns down a side street...
I move in.