Alissa in Wankerland 3

“Alissa.” Once again the moist smell hit my nostrils.

“What is that smell?” I said, opening my eyes to find soft glassy brown eyes staring at me.

“They are roots from the Bay tree, they serve as a cleanser, you must get up and drink, drink now.” He pushed the bowl to my lips and I took a few sips of the sour soup.

I looked around, the room was shaped like a rectangle; there was a basket at the far end of the room to my left, a space at the other end that had pots and spoons stacked up and, on the right, roots and herbs. I looked outside and the skies had a gloomy look. I reckoned it was a few minutes past five am.

“Where am I?”

He took the bowl from my hands and got up to drop at where the pots were stacked. “You are on the west wing of Bartildore town. It's neutral ground. People come here to heal.” He didn’t talk like the rest of them and I could not place his accent. He looked like a human, he walked and talked like one but had a fascinating elegance to his steps.

I had so many