I don’t remember what the stars looked like. Only how they made me feel. When the nights were at their darkest and the rest of the world slept. I remember feeling like an angel. Traveling silently through the streets of others’ dreams. All to myself.
The stars didn’t go anywhere. They’re right above me like they’ve always been. I just never seem to find the time to look up. It’s sad really. But I have things to do. Important things. Like homework. And when I don’t have homework I’m too tired to breathe. And when I’m not tired I live myself to sleep. So I don’t remember the stars. Only how I used to feel.
I never don’t have work to do. There is always work I haven’t done. It’s the nature of life I suppose. I tell myself there’s more to it than that. That the art I do has a deeper meaning. I’m also not a very convincing liar. Is this going anywhere? That was rhetorical. This is fiction, I should be writing fiction. Made up. Not factual. Fantastical. I’m trying but I really don’t have a story to tell because I haven’t lived much of a life. Whatever, I suppose I should try.

The grumpy old troll finished scrawling the message on the wall of the cave. He stepped back to admire his handiwork. Well, he hoped it was handy. He couldn’t actually read or write. He was just copying the strange characters from a loose bit of paper he found. He had come to the conclusion that the parchment was an official notice of some sort and adding it to the wall would make the passage all the more menacing. He slumped back to his hole with a sigh. It was exceedingly hard to make a living off of passage tolls. He had already lowered the price considerably and still adventurers big and small gave him hell for it. Like those gluttons don’t make more gold then they can carry on a bad day. The troll hunkered down and fixed his tired eyes on the horizon. The sun set, rose, and set again. The troll had no memory of drifting off, but he woke with a start all the same. He cursed his carelessness and crawled back to his view to see a custemer much to his surprise. The quester was a generic, fair skinned, young fellow who appeared no more than level 5 by the look of his armor. With a torch in one hand he had stopped to examine the writing.
“Evening!” the troll announced hoisting himself ungracefully from his little hole. The adventurer drew his sword.
“Woah easy now, don’t you know a humble gatekeeper when you see one?” the sword was sheathed. The man looked back to the wall. “What's the riddle supposed to be anyway?”
“The riddle. `Don't remember what the stars look like’? ‘writing fiction’? hardly a typical word puzzle.”
The troll glanced up at the markings he couldn’t read. He pondered how best to reap the situation. “Maybe it’s time-dependent, you know, wait for the stars to reach a certain point after you’ve collected a key. There’s a lot of treasures beyond this cave you know.”
The man didn’t seem interested.
“But, ‘homework’? Since when has Tellaria had anything to do with homework? And ‘too tired to breathe’? The whole thing is way too out-of-game,” he scratched his head and opened his map.
“Well it could be an easter egg! You never know what you’ll find this far from the center…”
“Humph, how much is it?”
“5 gold, a measly price for su-”
“Save it.” The quester shoved the coins at the troll's outstretched hand. As he sauntered off he muttered, half to the troll and half to himself. “What do the stars look like anyway?”