Passing Time

A Story by Wulfbane

Some people have the strangest way of passing time.

Passing Time

He took a sip of his hot chocolate and let out a sigh. As Warren watched the people go by he’d make up different stories about each of them. This was a sort of hobby of his, to keep him distracted when work got stressful.

“That girl,” he said referring to this tall European looking girl who passed by, “the one with the big eyes and blond hair. She’s wearing that jacket to hide her tattoo. Those long socks cover her scars. Where she got those tattoos and scars? From the war of course, the war between humanity and the extremely rude flesh eating pandas. She’s only hiding them because she doesn’t want to boast about it, and most of the time because it calls for unwanted attention.”

Warren then took another sip of his hot chocolate only to realize he already finished it. He set the cup down slowly and let out another sigh. Just then, another interesting character passed by. He was short, tan, was wearing a suit, and had this well groomed beard and was hurrying towards the other end of the mall.

“Oh, he’s on a mission. Can’t you tell? His watch is actually a small translator which will help him decode the ciphers on the wall to the great underground labyrinth. Why is it so important that he gets in there? Well, it’s not guaranteed that he’ll even find the center, but in the very heart of the center lays the City of Heroes, a vast deserted village where they say the secret to Eternal Youth lies.”

Why couldn’t my life be as interesting as these stories? Warren thought to himself. As he was paying for the bill he noticed the waiter was giving him this odd look, as if he heard all the strange stories he made up. Warren was about to make an excuse for being strange when he realized the waiter wasn’t eyeing him, but the person who just entered the café. It was this tall, pale man wearing the most bizarre clothes. He was wearing this sort of steampunk themed outfit with all the gears and whatnot and his hat had an analogue clock on it that was actually working.

“Must’ve come from that cosplay convention nearby,” the waiter muttered under his breath.

“No,” Warren whispered to himself. “That’s Freigh, the High Warlock of Rorch. He’s here because someone has been spreading rumors about him, and he’s not happy about it.”

“He certainly is not!”

Warren turns to face the man he was just commenting about.

“Hello there,” he says. “My name is Freigh, do you happen to know who’s been spreading these rumors?”