SNOWFLAKE

A must read for those who love Sherlock holmes novel, The protagonist is a fifteen year old boy living in medieval age and is inspired by Sherlock holmes. His first case? Protecting his 3 acres Farm f

CHAPTER 1

Out beyond the western boundaries of Hemshire existed a small village called Rasron. There, the peace soared calmly in the air with heartening vocals of love and friendship. It shared boundaries with two great rivers of Oppra and Julog (Past kings of Castar).

In outer skirts of village, there lived a poor farmer and his son, the farmer would wake up early in the morning, humming songs and dangling his dear shovel under water, cleaning it thoroughly before putting it to use.

Hyth, the son of Eric Foreman was 4 when their mother abandoned them for a Nobel on a white horse, that was all Hyth knew about his mother. As it was absolutely forbidden in the house to talk about farmer’s late love.

 Eric would plow the fields all day long with a firm smile on his wrinkled brown face. His hazel eyes would stare deep into the sky after every 5 minute, to keep the time in check. Hyth would help him. Barely 15 and he knew how to break ground, lay off rows, Place the seeds in the furrow of specific depth required by them, Cultivate the crops when ground becomes packed by rainfall, and last but not least. Installing a plower at rear end of his cow for harvesting season. His father had taught him everything he had known about farming.

 Content-- With their slops covered in wet mud they’d sit together only for dinner, and wouldn’t sputter a single word the whole day, Hyth would mostly be working at the horse barn, nursing new born foals and preparing them food. His father had taught him many useful skills like sewing his own clothes, stitching the ripped soles of shoes together with leather thread.

Their village was an undiscovered territory on the maps as cartographers would never slip away from the charted areas in fear of unknowing. Ruled by a small monarchy, taxation never lived up to its fierce name in the village of Rasron.

One fine day, the sun climbed up on the wall of sky and greeted foremen --Good morning, who were too busy to look at him, Lost in the fields. Suddenly, a rumor floating in its thick sin stroked Eric with horror. “They’ve been destroyed, the castles of CASTAR have been destroyed by GOD”, Eric went running fiercely in his leather hessian boots toward the market, chasing clarity.

“GIANT CASTLES CRUMBLED IN FEAR, I SAW IT, THE WHOLE THING, I WAS THERE!”

“What are you talking about” A voice rose from the crowd that jester had bound with his sinful rumor.

“THE CASTLES OF CASTAR HAVE BEEN PERISHED BY A STORM, AND IT IS COMING STRAIGHT YOUR WAY RASRONIANS”

“Oh my�" “

“We will all die”

“Hang the jester, He’s nothing but a liar!”

“All calm down” A fierce voice rose from the west of the gig.

Kings guard arrived at the scene and took it under their protective wing. Eric went running back to his farm, Eyes filled with fear he stood numb just outside the barn, lips bitten and skin pale with terror.

“What is it Father?” Asked hyth nervously who was staring at bloodless face of his father for quite a time now.

“The end is nigh, my dear son” As a tear rolled down his cheek. Eyes kept staring at half watered crops.

Hyth leaned in and hugged his father, Giving him courage to proceed with his statement
“The castles of CASTAR, have been perished by a dreadful storm my son�"and it’s headed our wa-“ As he groaned in pain looking at the pride of his farm. Being on the outer skirts, the farm had no chance of making it through the storm.