Art&concept by Ol Albireo
Feel free to write your stories
and name arts.
You also can do not only write, but draw, sing, create music and sculptures, translate into other languages you learn for practicing (and never simplify text when you translate it!). Show us that you did.
-Then you tell me why they want to kill me?
-They can kill you because of a bad mood, of resentment. But most likely you will be taken into the hills into slavery. And you won’t know how far you are. Yes, now you will see everything by your own, – Frey shook his head.
One of the riders shouted something and directed the horse towards a couple, grabbed Saladdin on the fly, but he managed to dodge, and immediately two hands from behind caught him and easily, as if he weighed nothing, threw him high into the air, another rider caught him, he also threw it into the air, and again Saladdin sank into someone’s hands, flew up again. The horses ran silently and swiftly, the riders passed the captive to each other, not allowing the prey to come to his senses. The prince was nauseated, disoriented, he was angry and tried to cling to something, but his hands slid over smooth dark clothes, the riders deftly and quickly threw the victim into the air, and raced towards the hills.
Finally, the frantic flights ended, the rider threw the exhausted victim onto the horse in front of him, shouted something to Saladdin, and blindfolded him with a black piece of cloth. Saladdin grabbed the horse’s mane. The rider unceremoniously ransacked Saladdin’s clothes, ridding him of weapons, shamefully felt his body, skillfully checking the hiding places, and took off his shoes. The prince tried to remove the bandage from his eyes, more in order to feel better, but he did not succeed, the bandage sat as if ingrown.
The race was over, Saladdin was pushed off his horse, he flew for some time, but fell into someone’s hands again, and only then was he thrown to the ground. The fall was not high, but very inconvenient, especially since Saladdin did not know how high he could fall. The prince fell, sat on the ground, reached for the knot of the bandage, trying to tear it off. Someone not strongly, but bitingly hit him on the hands, said something.
Someone else said something, a voice that sounded like Frey’s. Maybe Saladdin wanted the voice to be similar. The prince thought that Frey wanted to teach him a lesson, and was angry. He tore off this bandage, painfully tearing out the hairs on his head. In front of him was still the same dark line of riders and around him endless hills with openings.
Frey was nowhere to be seen.
Saladdin rose to his feet, bandage clutched in his hand, glaring furiously and expectantly at those around him. The rider dismounted, another, and another, the riders flowed down from the horses in a dark stream, one fanned thin blades in his palms, rolled them up and said something to Saladdin. The men pushed the prince in the back, pushing him towards the opening.
Take everything, AlbireoMKG