I must admit. I flit around different writing sites from time to time, and this is the first one that has one-word prompts. It is a challenge to come up with a piece of written work from one word, but I think I can mange it somehow.
After all, I am the one who looked at a stock picture on Deviant Art and made a short story out of it. So, this shouldn’t be too hard, right?
Today’s word: blade.
Let’s see how this goes.
Kam ran a finger up the side of the dirk, taking special care not to cut himself. The edge was honed to split a single hair. It was perfectly balanced, and he has been trained to use this weapon since he was a small boy in the town of Elin, west of Dark Moon.
Many in Elin had been trade to hunt down the cursed of Dark Moon if they happen to wander out of the town.
Elin turned the dirk over. This was the day he would be a man. This was the day he would hunt his first cursed one. He smiled as he ran a finger down the silvery blade again. His nerves were on edge, but he could not wait for tonight’s hunt.
His father took him to the ceremonial tent. They took the dirk and sat him in the middle of the tent.
They took his long hair and put it in a topknot, cutting it down to four inches in length. The sound of the sheers going through his hair made him close his eyes and take a deep breath. Ever since he was a boy he was not allowed to cut his hair, only the elders could do it, and now, with the tugging of his hair and feel of the scissor blades through his locks, his hair was no more.
They let his hair fall as they removed the leather tie.
They wet his head and started to cut it shorter. He looked directly at his father whose head had been shorn since his manhood ceremony. He then felt the edge of a blade touch his scalp and begin to shave him smooth.
The shaman sat in front of Kam when the shaving ceremony was over and began to mark where his first tattoos would go. The shaman placed a drawing of Kam’s blade on his right arm, the arm of the warrior-an arm he thought he would never see marked for he was born left-handed. It was his father that trained him to use his right exclusively. Left-handed villagers were seen as weak and bad luck, and Elin could not afford bad fortune.
The second tattoo was of a full moon in the middle of his temple. This marked him as a hunter of the cursed. It would be filled in as he brought home trophies. The more seasoned hunters had tattoos on the top of their heads.
He was stood and stripped of his clothing. A black long shirt, and dark leathers were placed for him to wear. Moccasins took place of his sandals. When he had dressed in his hunting gear, a cape and hood was placed upon him.
He was taken to another part of the ceremonial tent where he was given a vial of wolfsbane an watched as he coated his blade in the poison.
Dark wax was placed on his face around his eyes and forehead. He recoiled a small bit as the hot wax touched his skin.
The elder of the clan stood before him, “You are the first of your generation to pass all the trials and become a hunter. From this day forward, you will be known as Kam the First. You have on you all the tools you will need for your hunt this evening. Are you afraid?”
Kam stood resolute, “No, it is my honor and duty to gift the cursed with death in order to protect those who have not been touched.”
The elder nodded, “Many have stood where you stand and said the same. Many have not returned and are now living the village of the cursed. Do not take your duty lightly.”
“I will not, Elder Ston. I understand that mine is not an easy task.”
“Do you also understand you may be facing someone of this clan that was turned?”
Kam nodded, “Yes, and I will give them the blessing of setting them free from the curse.”
The elder placed a gnarled hand on the young man’s shoulder, “From this day on, you are a man. You will know feast before the hunt.”
This seems to have turned into a lore crafting story. There will be more added to it later.