So today, we pillaged a gnome village, and I got in trouble for painting

with gnome blood. My father just doesn't understand me at all.

“ You have disgraced our kind!” My brutish orc father yelled at me angrily.

“But father, I am an artist!” I yell desperately.

“ No, You are an orc! I didn't raise you this way.”

“But father... It's my calling” I murmur, averting my eyes.

“Son.. these gnomes are still alive. . . Kill them,” My father gestures towards the weak gnomes.

“But father , I must create art.” I gesture towards my art on the wall.

“So you use these gnomes to make art with blood.” My father looked at me mournfully “You must come back to camp, but get rid of these gnomes first”.

“Yes father,” I look over at the gnomes with sadness. I disgraced myself as an orc. What my father drilled into me since I was a child was both strength and honor. But I don't care about that, I care about making beautiful art. I'm not the son my father wanted me to be.

What is wrong with making art. I think to himself. My father doesn't understand me at all. I don't want to be chieftain, I am nothing like him. He leaves the ravaged hut after turning to give me an angry glare, as if to say Why are you so different from me. I look down at the gnomes strewn about the hut, their eyes dead, and their expressions sullen.

“Oh well” I mutter and grab them two at a time by the collar, and toss them off the cliff outside without a second thought. After I hear a few small thuds, I walk back inside to look at my handiwork. The drawing was of an Orc slaughtering a gnome, inspired by the slaughtering done today.

“Crunch...” Suddenly I hear a sound.

“Crunch...”

I look around to hear a small animal chewing on one of the gnome toes I left lying on the floor. I really need to remember to clean up my messes, that's what my mom always told me. Anyways, the animal is actually quite cute, with pointy ears, and big blue eyes. Time for dinner.

Stolen novel; please report.

While entertaining thoughts of dinner, I realize that the sun is setting, and that my father will be furious if I don't get back to camp soon. I leave the hut after signing my blood masterpiece and walk back to the campsite with the setting son facing my back. Just another day's work.

After heading back to camp I drift off to sleep. Dreams of flying gnomes, and bloody orcs cause me to smile while deep in slumber.

1.2

So today I woke up hearing the other Orcs preparing for battle.

“ Prepare for war!” My father shouts, spittle coming out of his fierce mouth.

“Hooah! Hooah! Hooah” The orcs pound their weapons against the ground simultaneously.

Just another day being an orc, I think to myself.

My father gestures for me to go stand next to him, and then he proceeds to put his massive arm around my shoulder. “ Today, we will make a true warrior out of my son!” He yells while clasping my shoulder harder.

“Hooah! Hooah! Hooah!” The orcs yell excitedly, the sound of their weapons pounding the earth now deafening.

“ Soldiers! March!” The mighty chieftain roars, and lifts his axe in the air in the symbol of orc valor.

These guys only have one thing on their minds, honor and glory. Since we were young we were taught that dying in battle was the greatest honor for an orc, and that every orc is a warrior. What if I wasn't meant to be a warrior like my father. Being the son of the chieftain, and not being a warrior didn't make any sense to my father. He just couldn't understand that I was different from him and the other orcs. The fact that I actually had a brain made a big difference.

Author's note: I wasn't sure about submitting this one, because I have another story I like better that I started. I'm still learning the writing craft and have a long way to go.