Greed: a short story


Staff Writer

Illustrated by Vicki Chen

As a warm spring breeze blew through the sleepy village of Syia, all was still. People in rags were scattered about the floor, trying to cover themselves in tattered blankets. Syia was a village of only a few inhabitants, a village that one always overlooked when glancing over a map. This village was founded by bounty hunters and rebels of a former nation but was soon invaded by the inhabitants of the dark nation Nowe. Both parties fought endlessly over which nation would claim Syia, resulting in one of the bloodiest wars of its time.
She was neither friend nor foe to the nation of Syia. She just detested the wealthy. They would live in luxury, without a care in the world, while the young children of the villagers would die from starvation, the men would pass out from exhaustion and the women would be abused. They always had the power to help these people, but they chose to keep their wealth to themselves.
‘Such detestable people..’ She thought vengefully, as she sharpened her dagger. She took a few steps towards the large mansion, making sure to keep herself hidden in the shadows. Her name was Marisa. She was known for frequently visiting villages and providing for poor families and the beggars. She would leave pouches of money, trays of food and other necessities on their doorsteps. Although nobody knew who she was, or why exactly this “savior” provided these items, she continued to do so anyway. She could not understand how some people could live so happily when their fellow people were in absolute suffering.
But she could conclude one thing. Even if humans live a satisfactory life, there is no guarantee that death will come as peacefully. She decided that a soul would not pass away peacefully in the room of a wealthy monarch tonight. It would be stolen ruthlessly by a shadowy figure in the night.
In the upper portions of the village of Syia, the richest family, the Nunalies, owned the largest and most extravagant mansion in the country. The Nunalies rarely left their house and when they did, they did not spare a dime or even a second glance at the people on the floor, who were dying of thirst and absolutely famished. Marisa considered this family to be the most disgusting kind of people. She quickly opened the window and crawled inside their home, making sure not to make a sound as she walked through the marble corridors. She quietly sneaked up the marble stairs, all of her steps dead silent. She came eye to eye with a plump man, lying in bed. As she watched him sleep, she remembered how the others in the village were suffering while this man had enough luxury to last him for a lifetime.
So she decided.
Today was her night.
Her night to take what she could for the village, even if it meant a life.