The Shaman Monologue

I sat there, amongst the now overgrown and old rubble, staring out over the horizon. Holding her tiny, delicate hand mine. I have yet to tell her about the one she’ll never get to know or see, and about the war that erupted like a ferocious spark upon a weak dry shrub. Which I may never be ready to put onto her poor heart.

It was a quiet afternoon, the village was alive with mirth, you could hear birds singing a melodious tune, kids playing in the town square, you could even hear the blacksmith tinkering in his forge. The town of Mirstrome is relatively average sized, being fully hidden away by the luminous Musp Mountains. Our village was named after the family who founded it, the Mirstrome family has been here for generations; but sadly, because of the wars between
Marilyn Da’Rolfe, has surprisingly decided to become a…” I gripped the rucksack I carried with the sweets and continued to walk, but before I did, I decided to stop by the town’s Shaman. I hoped that he could maybe try and lift my spirits with a small reading. The Shaman is one of the most trustworthy person that I know, and I know that he’d never lie.

As soon as I came into his shack he had a thin line of lips and his eyes were glossed over as he held his hands onto a large glass ball. Sitting down in front of him on the large plush pillow, I patiently waited for him to finish.
Once he came to, his once glossy eyes turned back to their original bright aquamarine shade. Without looking down at me, since he himself was of tall stature; he welcomed me with a calm smile, “Good afternoon Donovan, I hope you’re doing well.”
“I am, Lavos, I couldn’t be happier. How are you?”, I asked as politely as I could, trying to control my anxiousness. As if sensing this he lowered his head at me and arched a brow, “Don, you know I have an over-sensitive spirit.” I let out a sigh and lowered my head in defeat, rubbing my hands together nervously. “Now… What has gotten you so