All I Do is Spin in Circles

[Sparrow]

Sparrow spent another hour in the tavern writing in his journal, time seemed to pass by quickly as of late, sand falling through finger tips. More notes, self aggrandizing statements, self pity with a fine dash of excuses and terrible motivations. Words to convince someone, maybe himself that he hadn’t stagnated. That he hadn’t lost track of what he was even trying to do with his life.

All his efforts to revive a mother he had never known, at the price of four souls damned to a void. He had shifted from gambling with people’s lives to their very souls and yet he still tried to say he was a good man. No one ever believed it, least of all himself. So much of his energy was spent trying to distract others, to get their mind off their woes, even if that distraction was getting them upset at him, better than dwelling on what waited for them outside.

Images of gnashing teeth flooded his mind, his sternum starting to ache where one of the leaders had caved in his chest. Rubbing at the spot only made him feel worse. Twice, they had killed him twice. Or as close to it as he could figure. What made him deserve that? His mother certainly wasn’t afforded the Fairymen’s good graces.

By the dead he was tired, all the fighting, the constant failure, it made him grow more weary than he would ever admit.

Closing his journal he simply laid his head against the wall, trying desperately to summon the energy to bother someone.

He knew he should go check on his uncle, Drandor was probably struggling in his own way, not that the man would ever show it. They were family, and family was supposed to help each other right? But he’d never really had a good example in that regard. A ‘father’ that never cared and a mother who had gotten to know her grave better than her son. Say one thing about Sparrow Circlespinner, say that he’s bitter.

“Get up” He told himself, trying hard to do something productive with his day. But all he did was remain where he was. He wasn’t even sure if he was grieving or not, or if this was simply the somber mood of the tavern catching up to him.

With a sigh he remembered his time in the capital, even then so desperate to find family, anyone or anyplace that could be called home. At the market there had been a dog chasing its own tail, and Sparrow had never seen a more apt metaphor for his life. Sparrow Circlespinner, a bird with a broken wing always chasing its own tail.

Lacking the energy to do much else he opened his journal again and began to write, maybe the ink on the page would have the answers his mind lacked.

[Author]

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