Bad, and Worse

             

             There are, of course a lot of things wrong with being hung upside down by your ankles. Not the least of which is the reason you are hanging by your ankles. I could tell a story about how I’m innocent and being punished unjustly, but that is an even more egregious lie than that which got me in this situation. Really I can’t complain about my terrible circumstance, but I will anyway. I should start from the start though so that you can fully understand my position, that being of course no position at all.

                There was really nothing big about my life on the road to ankle hanging torture. I was born in an unimpressive manor to wonderfully loving parents. They made a modest living which became even more modest after having a child. They raised me the best they could, they provided a most adequate education, and all the love and caring that any child deserves. I was taught to read and write only as well as my parents could manage, and I learned all the feminine arts, as well as many of the manly manors that my father was more than willing to impart. My father had wanted a son, but had instead been blessed with me, his one and only daughter. But I readily learned even the simplest skills that my parents wished to pass to me. Quickly I surpassed them in every field including their own. My father commented that whoever took me for a wife would be leaving them in quite a lurch. Luckily for them that never really became a problem. I went to market with my father when he sold his crop, but none of the men ever approached me. It became clear that no one wished to take so harsh a creature as I for a bride. I did not fret, though, because my father merely took it as a sign that none were good enough for me. He was kind that way.

                Though my parents loved and cherished me, their precious daughter, they could not fight the tradition of marriage. So when my prospects in my little village wore too thin for comfort my father arranged for me to travel to the city, where my chances would be far better. Seeing as I was quick enough with a knife to be dangerous, he sent me alone to make my way in the world.

                The day I set off on the road to the city was the last day I saw my parents. They sent me with what would be my dowry should I find a husband so there was no reason I should return. I walked on the busy route watching carts roar past without pause. It was only the kindness of a near sited farmer taking his wagon of goods to market that got me there in any time at all. After helping the man unload his cart I started on my exploration of the city. I had heard a great many stories about these streets, but I had never considered that one day I would be walking on them. I took alley after alley, and explored market after market until nightfall. Not wanting to waste any of my dowry on lodgings and the night being rather fair, I found a nice stoop and promptly fell asleep.