Creative Writing: Empire Island

Valx dried himself and changed into clean clothes. He dumped the water out the back door then headed to the dining room. The auburn floors groaned as he stepped through his dark, cozy house. Valx entered the dining room where bread and fish waited for him on a plate with an apple and cup of water on the side. He slipped over to a cabinet where he found a small knife. Valx tucked the knife into the back of his trousers and pulled his linen shirt over it before he sat to eat.

Valx eyed the katana on the wall. As a child, he thought the old weapon was only a decoration but sometimes he walked into the room and caught his mother transfixed by the sword. Amikah had told Valx that she and his father, Iximir Delgard, used to travel with a caravan when they were younger, trading goods from town to town. Valx assumed they had carried the sword for self-defense. Amikah also told Valx his father had died in the same bandit attack where she lost her arm but never gave more than vague details.

The young man was nearly finished eating when his mother entered the room. “You better not sleep that late tomorrow,” she said. “We have to get to the shop early.”

“Don’t worry,” Valx grumbled. His plate was empty but the apple remained untouched. “I’m leaving now. Roz and Xulthen are probably waiting for me.” He stood from the table and slipped on his sandals by the front door.

“Hold on.” Amikah snatched the apple off the table. “Can you stop by the market and check on the shop? A few of nearby stores were broken into the other night and I’m worried about ours.”

“I guess.” Valx grabbed the shop key from the counter by the kitchen doorway and started for the front