Gulchenrouz glanced out the window of his watchtower, stared for awhile, then turned to his notebook. "Four hours, fifteen minutes past the rising of the moon. All is well," the young Erl jotted down. Then he stared at what he had written, and sighed.
His work as Officer of the Evening Watch of Bridge Perilous was... well, generally quite dull. Which, while it left him plenty of time to write poetry was also quite fatal to his inspiration. For once--just once--he wished something would happen.
There was a sudden bang down the hall. Leaping to his feet, Gulchenrouz rushed to the chamber's door, and opened it.
The cleaning woman was recovering the broom she had dropped. Gulchenrouz grumbled to himself and went back into his chamber. Of course. He should have expected that. As he'd noted, nothing ever happened in this city. A quick look at his clock confirmed it was time for another check. He glanced out the window, and then went back to his notebook. "Four hours, twenty minutes past the rising of the moon. All is well." He set down his pen, and tried to find some bit of inspiration.
There was a strange burst of noise from behind him, followed by a stabbing pain in his right side. He attempted to cry out as his chair was yanked back, and he was tossed to the ground, but no sound came. The form of his assailant came into view as he lay on the floor, a tall Dev with slightly crooked horns. The man smiled at him, watching him with amused orange eyes. Gulchenrouz tried to say something but still his voice would not come.
The man glanced at the clock, and after several minutes, went to the notebook, and began to jot something down.
It occurred to Gulchenrouz that he knew exactly what the man was writing there.
And that gave him an idea for a poem, one that he would never write now.
He died many minutes later, cursing the world's unfairness.