Haste makes waste.
Wasted seconds on finishing early.
Given the specifications for an individual's tasks throughout the day, some of those tasks may be done sloppily.
But the mind.
That is far more complex.
Dilemmas can last days. Weeks. If the person is a true indecisive, it may even take a month or two.
If pushed too far, or the pressure of making a decision is met, the results, same as with a task, meet a hastily met conclusion.
Yet those decisions. Cost far more than a measly task.
Given the weight of their position or status.
A single yell of anger, while for a child to yell, will just be passed as a tantrum.
A yell from a sovereign of the state, and it will be taken far more seriously than any anger of tens of hundreds of citizens.
The silent ratification between the order of the sovereign and it's workers are telltale signs even if it is not said directly.
Then there is the accounting of situations.
From small to big, no matter how insignificant, a decision must be made.
Likewise the decision for a meal.
It can be cheapened by skimming out on it.
Or can be finely crafted from the depths of the heart.
Some may choose to do neither and simply wait it out.
Even if nothing is done, the consequence will play out like an open book.
Ringing a hollow tune from the flow of time.
Most choose a decision.
Doubt is expected in these kinds of choices.
Is that one right, or is that one worse?
Likewise, pressure can forcefully coerce someone into making the choice.
Peer pressure, questions, manipulation, and other such ways like these, create the haste.
Creating more and more, until it cracks under the invisible weight they hold.
Formerly, a family living just on the outskirts of a lord's capital of their region, lived day to day life.
There is peace all around.
Occasionally, it might get noise due to the travelers' road.
One finite morning that infinitely returns once the moon is set to fall, the father, met and bid farewell to a new traveler.
"May your journey go well."
That was that.
Time crawled in steps.
The rising of the moon, the fall, the sun, the dragging, the rising, the fall, the sun, the dragging.
Again for the next month.
The father met the same traveler.
Pleasantry in conversation, tales of far away, residing in the mystic.
"Invoke these words."
Give unto me the will, stake me the bane once it appears.
Whispers of the gravest, heeded whence its needed.
"Farewell."
A curse uttered under the words for the melting of their own self.
Days and nights, seasons and light.
The father sees his own children, the daughter and the son, grow.
The mother, joyous.
It nears the beginning.
Slowly, the tide of a war far from their lands raised spears across the county.
The father, soon to be too old for such scorching.
The son, just two years early.
As the age of blood passed, the stage of the finality, set in their own front.
Time flies into the soaring sky.
Then comes the knocking.
The dragging of the son.
To shed more and more until defeat is certain.
"He must go." they said.
The father, fearful.
The hours of the lasting reach zero.
The son, brought to spill everything.
Hesitance, and he let go of the rope.
The daughter, soon after, gone with the failure of protection.
A robbing from foe and ally.
The mother.
Ripped from the decaying house, tortured in the folly of pleasure.
The father.
The… man. Remember the talking of the traveler.
Each strike aimed solely to his heart. The red gliding down every eye, every wound.
Losing everything for the moral of himself. How?
Uncertain. Why it was.
With nothing but a deteriorating house amid a zone full of nothing but chaos.
"Give unto… me the will, stake me… the bane that appears…"
An endless repetition of such cursed words. Birthing the hollowness, the grounded pit staring back.
Set upon the world with a madness and turmoil of that like the flames.
Lost in delusion, basking in insanity, unable to accept.