(Solmonath 9, 45 / 10:00AM)

  Inside the city of Ridgemente.

  Throughout the cobblestone streets, horse-drawn carriages and old automobiles dented the fragile roads.

  The sidewalks busied with pedestrians, all of them carried along suitcases, fancy canes, and the confidence of a lumberman. Cologne and perfume staunching the city, it gave the air a hint of wealth, along with the sunlight from above glistening the roofs of most of the buildings.

  One particular building, a white brick circular building, is in the center of the city.

  Inside the building, in one of the rooms, a group of men all aged from their 40s to 60s all sat down on a circular dark wooden table. Their mustaches were bushy and long, most of them had them stretched down to their necks, their suits hanging down gold and silver chains as they all looked at the man in front of them.

  A man—no, a shark-human wore black slacks, a black dress shirt, glasses, and church shoes.

  (Politician #1) Do you want us to push a law for beast humans to enter into human spaces? Don’t you people already have your own facilities?

  (Kirk) Please hear my fellow men. Have you heard of the old saying, “separate but equal”?

  (Politician #2) That’s written in the Haxouburg Natural Clauses. Beast humans don’t have a problem with it, so why do you plan on changing it?

  (Kirk) Are we beast-humans treated equally?

  Kirk counted six rich men in total around the table, with all of their eyes making contact with the shark-human who had his hands spread out. Kept their palms on their knees, their backs laid back amongst the black cushioned seats that blanketed their old frail bones.

  Adjusting his collar, Kirk continued to keep his feet pressed onto the floor, despite their stares digging into the depths of his soul. Like watching a man on the verge of having a voice crack whilst singing the national anthem, they all waited for Kirk for any sign of fault or bias in his words.

  (Kirk) You may say that physical and even verbal abuse to beast humans is rare, but why do many of our brethren live in villages outside of main cities? Villages that aren’t well off in water and food compared to our fellow men?

  All of the rich men who stared into Kirk’s eyes soon looked away, their fingers digging deep into their kneecaps.

  A man full of white hair, hair that stretched down low to his upper back, took off his circular glasses as he laid them down on the table. Without squinting his eyes, he laid back his head on the back of the seat, showcasing his beer belly that was trapped by his dress shirt.

  (Politician #3) Now son, don’t get your hopes up in terms of being treated equally to us. You're a smart man, right? You carry a bible in your pocket and dress nice to impress, but you're forgetting one simple thing.

  The fat man slowly rose from his seat, placing both of his palms onto the edge of the wooden table unlittered with splinters. For the others, they knelt their heads down, staring into either their wrinkled hands or laminated flooring that squeaked their high boots.

  Seeing the shark-human continuing to stand frozen, the beer-belly man hunched forward, creaking the table that arched a degree up from the opposite side he put pressure on. The wood creaking, both of his lips curled down to the border of his jaw.

  (Politician #3) I wasn’t born this way. Raised in the ghettos, I worked to the bone to reach the status that I have. Maybe if you studied law or medicine, you could’ve gained a better life for yourself, instead of preaching “change” to beast-humans that want to live simple lives.

  Kirk’s eyes darkened.

  His right hand trembling, he clenched it firm into a balled fist, his chest burning and swelling up as if a fire was lit inside of him. His lips sealed, and he clenched down both of his jaws while rubbing them back and forth to spark more enamel embers.

  Twisting his ankles to turn the opposite way, the soles of his church shoes stomped onto the laminated floor beneath him, shaking the very room with his stomps. Reaching the golden handle, he swayed it open, clenching the handle with a death grip before slamming the door shut.

  His eyes slanted inward, he created a trail that he paved with his stomps alone, as many government workers backed away in silence.

  (Kirk’s thoughts) Study law they say! I’ve heard that line before! I’ll show them! I’ll show every fellow brethren living in this forsaken country!

  Two large black metallic doors came in full view in front of him, his stomps ceased as he gripped the door handle, his fingers digging deep into the golden metal. His skinny and frail muscles and bones bulging from his arms, he barely managed to open the door, before leaving it open for the others to close.

  (Kirk’s thoughts) I’ll change their views on us! An oath! An oath I will forge!

  ______________________________________________________________________________

  (Solmonath 9, 45 / 11:24AM)

  An hour after his failed charisma with the politicians.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  Both of his hands sunk deep into the pockets of his black slacks, with the tip of his church shoes kicking away balls of leftover trash that littered the sidewalk. His ears perked up from the clamping of hooves mixed with the rumbling of motors, his eyes continued to flatten his face.

  Ignoring the men and women who kept their distance from him, some of them furrowed their brows up as if they saw a creature wandering the street.

  (Kirk’s thoughts) The only fellow men who backed my fight were the moderates, but even they held me back when I tried to fight harder. When will this, “not now” or “wait until the time is right” end?

  Glancing to his right, he noticed a black building that was only one floor high, its windows tinted in pitch black. His eyes already pushed down to his cheeks, he swiftly intaked a large dose of oxygen into his dried-up lungs.

  Walking to the front oak door, he opened it wide, bringing his entire body into the muggy air that dampened the wood.

  Looking all over the inside of the building, it was clear that it was none other than a candy shop. Lollipops, chocolate, and a fat stash of tootsie rolls, stacked in containers on every aisle in the shop.

  Continuing to keep his hands inside of his pockets, he went toward the back. Standing in front of the rows upon rows of tootsie rolls, he pulled both of his hands from his slacks pockets, rubbing his palms together as his sweat mingled with the soup air. Licking his lips, he grabbed a handful of the tootsie rolls with his frail bony hand.

  (Kirk’s thoughts) But I suppose … at least the moderates are completely fine with people like me buying candy from their shops.

  Grabbing the handful of tootsie rolls with his hand, he walked over to the front counter, seeing the nonchalant face of a young man. Pushing his hair back, the young man cleared his throat, as Kirk dumped the handful of tootsie rolls onto the wooden counter.

  While Kirk began to pull out his wallet, the cashier put the group of tootsie rolls into a brown lunch bag, constantly looking at the shark-human with nonchalant eyes. Seeing that Kirk had pulled out two quarters, he took it without hesitation, putting the coins into the register as the currency clinked with the chrome.

  (Cashier) Here ya go.

  Giving the lunch bag to the shark-human, Kirk took it carefully with both of his bony hands, holding it on the bottom. Turning away, his eyes soon glanced at a turquoise-haired girl.

  She wore thin brown overalls that covered her arms and legs, completely covering any skin that the sun would tan. Her hair was long, it swept down all the way to her waist, covering her back as she gazed up at the lollipops way high up on the top shelf. Raising her hands up, her fingers repeatedly grasping the air, as drool drooped down her right lip.

  Pushing the bag to his left hand, he walked up to the girl.

  (Kirk) Do you need any assistance?

  The girl nodded slowly, taking a step back away from the shark-human. Noticing that she was putting distance between her and him, his eyes pushed down more into his cheeks, straightening his back while turning toward a nearby rolling ladder.

  Rolling the ladder to where he would take the lollipop, Kirk firmly held the wood with his sweaty hands while pushing the bottom of his soles onto every step of the ladder. Reaching the max he could go in height, he stood on the tip of his toes, extending his hand while trying to grasp the handle of the candy.

  (Kirk’s thoughts) What reason did they have to make lollipops this expensive!? It’s just sugar on a stick!

  Because of his below-average height, it was significantly harder to grab the candy. Luckily for him, his hand grasped the stick of the lollipop, his fingers curling around the plastic. But unluckily for him, the ladder wobbled by his imbalance, causing him to falter downward onto the floor.

  Spreading both of his arms and legs apart, he had his eyes closed as steam hissed out from his lips, his bones stinging him from pain. As if he banged his bones onto a hammer, saliva escaped from his lower lip, dripping onto the wooden floor…

  Wait…

  Opening his eyes, Kirk’s vision began clearing up in front of him. His chest and lower body felt the warmth of another person, his unblurring vision soon gave him…

  (Turquoise Haired Girl) Huh…?

  (Kirk’s thoughts) no, no, no, no, no—

  He was on top of the young girl.

  Because of the loud thump shaking the floor, cabinets, and shelves of the store, the cashier had no other choice but to push his feet forward to check the disturbance. Seeing Kirk lying on top of a six-year-old girl, with drool streaming out from his lips, he pointed his finger straight at the shark-human.

  Turning his head back, he placed his knees on the wood while having his hands up in the air. Quickly glancing at the rolling ladder being rolled back into its original place because the push of his feet ignited when he began falling, Kirk’s whole body began sweating a hideous odor.

  (Kirk) I-It’s not what it looks like. By my soul, I landed on her—

  (Cashier) You monster! Child molester!

  (Kirk) No, no, no! You got it all wrong! Didn’t you hear the thump—

  The door to the candy shop swayed open.

  A group of three boys swiftly entered the shop. Two of the boys were in their late teens, while the other boy appeared to be two years younger than the girl in front of them. One of the teens, having dark turquoise colored hair, looked at both the cashier and the shark-human, then finally…

  At the girl with turquoise colored-haired.

  (Zirardge #1) What happened here?

  The dark turquoise colored hair teen slanted his eyes at the cashier, who began to point repeatedly to the shark-human. Noticing that the two teens were beginning to clench their whole bodies in pure anger, their fists shook with an intensity that rivaled Kirk’s fight for change.

  Bowing his head down, not even a single whimper scratched his throat.

  Then came the loud crying from the back of him.

  His eyes widened, his body freezing up like a deer in headlights, he didn’t dare to look up at the two teens who soon began walking to the shark-human.

  (Zirardge #1) Did you touch my sister…?

  Without kneeling or bending to him, the teen grabbed the top of Kirk’s hair, his eyes burdened in a crimson red. As if God, the very God that he thought was by his side, took his voice from his parched throat, tears flowed out from both corners of his eyes like an overflowing river.

  The other teen, who had teal-colored hair, put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. His anger was the same as his, both blew out a blow of hot breath from their quivering throats, as their sisters cried and screamed out evermore.

  (Zirardge #1) DID YOU TOUCH HER!?

  (Kirk) I didn’t! I didn’t! I swear to you I didn’t!

  (Cashier) He’s lying! The ladder hasn’t moved from its original spot!

  (Kirk) Then what about—

  He noticed a candy that was missing. Remembering that he must’ve dropped the lollipop when he hit the ground, his lower body sunk deep into his abdomen.

  Looking around the floor, he glanced at every hole or shadow that was being rejected by the sun, his eyes on the verge of breaking out long-waited tears. Realizing that his luck soon faded away like a piece of wet paper, his heart began to pound against his bony chest that trickled under pressure.

  Pulling the shark-human up to his feet, the dark turquoise-haired teen extended his right hand back.

  (Zirardge #1) You’re going to pay.

  Thrusting his right hand toward the shark-human's cheek, it slammed directly into his face, the force causing his skin to jiggle with the motion. His eyes rolled just below the top of his eyelid, his vision blurred, and an unfamiliar liquid escaped from his nostrils.

  Both of his feet being dragged, his body went along with the pull, meaning that he was…

  Being pulled outside.

  His eyes finally rolled up to his skull, and the dark corridor of darkness that he was also unfamiliar with soon dawned on him. His hearing being the last thing to chisel his ears, the faint trace of a voice of one of the teenagers said…

  (Zirardge #2) Let’s take him to the butcher.