Mansion in Turqouise

Again, this is one I started a long time ago, and my writing for today was adding on to it. I don't know if it will ever go far, but it's a writing excercise that I often do. I saw this picture and I just had to write about it. So here's the picture, and then the writing. NOTE: nevermind, the picture wouldn't load. I'll figure it out and put it in later. Sorry for any confusion.

As he scurried along the side of the plaza the young man carefully kept his face turned away from the stairs, the tower, and especially from the light shining through the many crevices in the walls of the central tower, the focal point of the entire set-up. He concentrated on the rough cobblestones at his feet, the fluted pillars along the walls, anything except that tower, with it's shimmering, captivating light, and the horrors he knew glancing at it would remind him of. For this reason he did not notice the large metal bar installed at head height along the wall until it was too late to avoid it. His last thought as his world faded to black was “I hope I have a concussion.” I suppose this seems rather odd to you, reading this account in your comfortable chair, seated in your comfortable living room, living your comfortable life. However, no one that knew the young man would be surprised that it was so. They would merely shudder for him, knowing his fate rested in unkind hands from here. Knowing that dying of a concussion or a broken neck would be a far preferable fate to that which awaited him if he was found. You may wish to put on some soothing music and perhaps pour yourself a nice cup of hot chocolate or lemonade, depending on the climate, because the next part of this story may cause you to lose a little bit of that comfort, that assurance in the ease of your life, as you connect with this young man. For the next part of our story tells how he was found, and what happened after.

thud... thud... Thud... Thud. THUD. THUD! THUD! The footsteps of the group of soldiers thundered in the eerie silence of the plaza as the paraded before their master. He frowned disapprovingly and muttered orders to the man, if he can be called a man, who groveled at his side. He was not the only one who watched, for his servants had flooded into this area in preparation for his arrival. One of them, trembling with fear and perchance the hope of a reward, walked slowly, cautiously, towards one of the men who stood, straight, tall, and severe, a few feet behind their master. The servant gestured furtively at a guard on the end, who bent his head down and glared at the servant. However, as the servant walked nearer, shaking nervously, and whispered in the guard's ear, his face lost its sullen stare and greed spread across it like a blanket spread out on a lawn in preparation for a picnic.

Striding up to the groveling man next to the master, he bowed even lower, because this sniveling wretch was second in command, despite appearances.