Creative Writing: The Witherwood Inn

You’ve never heard of Witherwood, have you? No. I didn’t think so. It’s a rotten old forest. There are few alive who know the place, let alone the treasure hidden in that place. I didn’t know about it myself, not until the lads and I found ourselves there. It’s a long story, see. Times were different back then. The world you know, it was barely the twinkle in the eye of some revolutionary lacking a tragic history to drive them to greater heights. We weren’t rebels. We weren’t daring outlaws. Stealing from the rich and giving to the poor. Pfa. We stole from everybody and kept for ourselves! We were thieves! Murderers and thieves, and Witherwood was a good enough place to hide. Not that we knew to call it that, at the time.

The old king’s guards

None of us liked the idea of sleeping on dirt like a bunch of animals. Well if the forest didn’t provide! Old Jack had barely just pointed out that we’d want shelter soon enough when we found it. Named the whole forest after the place. The Witherwood Inn. Absolute wreck of a building, but it’d do in a pinch. We 'd fix it up to be habitable enough, spend a few years looting, then flee the country and live the fine life in some far off paradise. That was the plan. We 'd go somewhere south. All sunny and warm. Maybe buy ourselves a villa. Or kill one another, take all the loot for ourselves, and buy a whole bloody castle!

His top muscle starts fighting it out to take his place. The killers on either side get off their leashes. Slaughter anybody they can get their hands on. You don’t have friends or enemies in that sort of situation like that. All you can do is get out with the skin on your back. I got out of that nightmare pretty fast. Got out of the whole damned country. I went as far away as I could. Far enough that nobody would know my face. This one 's got quite a distinct, don 't you think? Ah, well. No matter how far I ran I never forgot the strength I felt in those days, or the loot we had piled up there.

It’s why I went back a month or so ago. It’s why you’re in this whole messy situation. See, some of the boys were smarter than me. They took all the gold they could carry when they ran. There wasn’t much left when I got there. Not enough gold to buy my villa down south, let alone a castle. Plenty of that wood, though. More than one man could use in a lifetime.

Plenty of gold in your purse too, I think. No, you’re right. I don’t need to kill you. I know, I could just take your money. It’s not like you know where to find The Witherwood. I mean, swamps and forests? That’s half the border! Haha. You aren’t wrong, friend. I’m still going to kill you, of