God, I really hate it when your just minding your own business, when suddenly a dangerous, evil creature decides to butt into your life. Right? Ugh.
Oh, right. Sorry. You don't know anything about me or my life. Well, my name's Sarah. From the ranks of the Island Kingdoms. I'm from island Spookane. But I recently moved to the capitol island, Headington.
Everywhere, at every second, you could see a dragon to a mutant ant. You never know. Back at Spookane, you'd see the usual flying cat.
As usual, Jake walked in to buy some recently cooked food for his family, as he usually does on Tuesdays. He's a slayer. The best at it. My mentor, Barney, took the newly butchered five-legged hog and cooked it for Jake. Around here, in the capitol of the Island Kingdoms, the usual meals were five-legged hog with rye(Nasty, if you ask me.), Dragon wings(Even more nasty.), and the plain, boring steaks. That and bread, or the fruits growing out back of our store.
Well, it was all we had around here. We hardly had any slayers to keep us safe, and most of the time they leave the bodies behind and don't bring the chef any meat to cook! It frustrated all of us. All six of us. We had to get this place thriving, before we were destroyed by the creatures of the underworld.
Yet our lives go on. We are content with the little they bring for us. We mainly have to go out ourselves every once in a while. Usually It's me who has to. They say it will bring me, 'Better skills' for the future. How pathetic, right? Right? I think so, since all I'll do in the future is cook food for other, more talented people and then snap at my apprentice to hunt the food. Okay, I'm kidding. It's just what my mentor does pretty much 24/7.
Anyways, I think having only three slayers is unfair. Every other island has at least twelve or so, and there aren't even many evil creatures there! The royal family always talk about taking some of the other island's slayers and bringing them here, but it never sticks. It just doesn't.
Jake looked at me. "Every Tuesday I see you lugging a slab of meat around, and tossing it into the oven. When you should be carrying a sword and slashing it into a dragon's scaly skin. Kiddo, why aren't you a slayer? Your dad was, and he was my mentor. He was the greatest slayer, and you have his strength."
I looked up at him, my hazel eyes pools of confusion. "Maybe...because being a slayer means giving up your life, basically. You never know when you're going to fall, stumble, and end up dead. I don't want that life, alright? I don't want to end up like my parents. You know. Dead. Lifeless. Unable to feel the beating of their cold hearts."
Jake sighed inwardly. "Fine. I know I can't change your mind, kiddo. Your just like your father."
I cast one more glance at him as I handed him his food for his large family, and he strode from the room with no worries. Maybe I should have been a slayer. Everyone knows the praise you get. The thanks. What do I get for working my butt of trying to feed everyone without having them burn their precious fingers on a burner? Nothing. Hardly a penny in thanks.