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Description
Early one sunrise, a mother was reading to her young son.  She had told this story countless times and her words moved fluidly along the yellowing pages.  The scrolls were nearly committed to memory and so she was watching her baby’s reaction as her words rose and fell at just the right moments.  She was a superb storyteller.  However, this tale was more than that.  It wasn’t just legend, as many believed.  The mother knew that it was history: Real history, not a fictional story or an old minstrel’s dream.

The baby blinked and wrapped his small hand around his mother’s finger.  Even a baby could tell when its mommy was sad.

“Never forget this tale, Alex,” she whispered to her baby, pausing as a silent tear ran down her face.

That is when they came.

The woman’s golden eyes jerked their attention to the door, where a firm knocking could be heard.  She lay down her baby gently and stroked his head.  With a prayer, the mother kissed two of her fingers and wistfully placed them on her baby’s forehead.  Then, she walked to the door.  Tiny eyes watched her as she crossed the room, waiting for the next embrace.  Unfortunately, it would never come.

She smiled an empty smile of welcome as she opened the door and her visitors smiled back.  Metal flashed, a finger slipped, the floor was stained.  The baby began to cry.

Stepping nonchalantly over the broken body, one of the men reached out his scarred arms to pick up the papers next to the baby.  The boy continued to cry.

A glare from him shut the baby up.  “What do you think we should do with the kid?” he asked his partner.  Kids were messy.  Murdering a suspected theft was one thing, but whole towns could revolt at the thought of someone harming a baby, like this one.

The other man frowned and rubbed his eyes, painted red.  “Can’t we just leave him?  I doubt he even remembers his mom at all, no use putting effort into wasting him.”

The first man nodded his consent before scribbling a note next to the baby.  He wrote four words.

“Curiosity Killed The Cat,” he mumbled, glancing at the body by the door.  He signed the note with the letter “X” and then set down the pen next to the note.

The two men left soon afterward.

Description
Early one sunrise, a mother was reading to her young son.  She had told this story countless times and her words moved fluidly along the yellowing pages.  The scrolls were nearly committed to memory and so she was watching her baby’s reaction as her words rose and fell at just the right moments.  She was a superb storyteller.  However, this tale was more than that.  It wasn’t just legend, as many believed.  The mother knew that it was history: Real history, not a fictional story or an old minstrel’s dream.

The baby blinked and wrapped his small hand around his mother’s finger.  Even a baby could tell when its mommy was sad.

“Never forget this tale, Alex,” she whispered to her baby, pausing as a silent tear ran down her face.

That is when they came.

The woman’s golden eyes jerked their attention to the door, where a firm knocking could be heard.  She lay down her baby gently and stroked his head.  With a prayer, the mother kissed two of her fingers and wistfully placed them on her baby’s forehead.  Then, she walked to the door.  Tiny eyes watched her as she crossed the room, waiting for the next embrace.  Unfortunately, it would never come.

She smiled an empty smile of welcome as she opened the door and her visitors smiled back.  Metal flashed, a finger slipped, the floor was stained.  The baby began to cry.

Stepping nonchalantly over the broken body, one of the men reached out his scarred arms to pick up the papers next to the baby.  The boy continued to cry.

A glare from him shut the baby up.  “What do you think we should do with the kid?” he asked his partner.  Kids were messy.  Murdering a suspected theft was one thing, but whole towns could revolt at the thought of someone harming a baby, like this one.

The other man frowned and rubbed his eyes, painted red.  “Can’t we just leave him?  I doubt he even remembers his mom at all, no use putting effort into wasting him.”

The first man nodded his consent before scribbling a note next to the baby.  He wrote four words.

“Curiosity Killed The Cat,” he mumbled, glancing at the body by the door.  He signed the note with the letter “X” and then set down the pen next to the note.

The two men left soon afterward.