When will my tale began?

The sun was shining high up the sky, yet I feel cold. My hands and legs were numb from walking for hours. My sweat dripped on the ground profusely, some even got into my eyes and it was stinging.

We’ve been going at it since morning and it’s noon now. We are all tired, and thirsty too. Once our leader in the front signaled with his hand to rest, everyone sighed in relief and dropped limp without a care about getting dirt in their pants.

I sought a proper place, like a small boulder to sit on, but I was too slow and small the adults took the spot first. They chattered, creating a mini-group of their own. Faint chuckling occasionally heard, most are trying to be quiet and not attract unwanted attention.

We were travelling.

Where to?

A city somewhere.

Our village was no more. Nothing left but ashes and smell of rotten flesh, blood and flies flying around the corpses.

I rested my palm on my temple, it was hot. I also felt the heat spread across my cheeks and neck.

I don’t feel so good.

I don’t think anyone was. Hungry and tired, one of the worst combination man ever known. I wanted to close my eyes and sleep. Just a little while, but I couldn’t. I cannot.

I knew I wouldn’t wake up ever again if I did.

Still with a bit of resentment towards the adults, I dropped my bottom on the cold dirt and took a piece of bread from my leather bag. The bread was cold and hard, not very clean either. Usually I won’t even take a second look before I threw it away, but things changed.

This journey would take three to four days by foot. All I had was two loaf of breads. Right now, I wouldn’t even mind drinking mud water, if only I wouldn’t get sick from it.

“Len.”

Just as I was about to take a bite, I heard a voice calling me. Feeble and weak, like a whisper in the wind her voice seemed about to cry any second.

“Len.”

She called my name once again with a cracked voice. I turned around and saw her eyes red from tears with her cheeks smeared with dirt and dust.

“...”

She didn’t say anything but I knew what she wanted. There was nothing left to said. I tear half of my bread and hand it to her.

“Ah…”

Her mouth made an arch and her lips trembled. She covered her face with her left hand, wiping down the tears on her cheeks.

“Thank… you…”

She uttered with whatever strength she had left.

I stood up and walked away from her. I ate my bread a distance away from the others.

I didn’t like them.

I still don’t.

Bunch of pricks. All of them.

I rubbed my face and stared at the clouds in the sky. Wouldn’t it be great if you can be one of them? Floating around above the earth, watching people, miserable people, judging them quietly, and pranking them with rains if you feel like it.

I lost in my thought for a second and noticed a shadow looming behind me.

There she was, staring at the ground with her fingers intertwined with each other.

“What is it now?”

“Thank you… for your help…”

“Once is good enough. Go back to your mum.”

For a second I saw her face hardened.

“Mum...my…”

I turned my gaze away and stood up with a jump. I put strength into my arm and slapped her should hard.

“That hurts!”

“I know. So stay strong. There are still 3 or 4 more days left. Hold on and things will get better.”

“Will it really?”

“I’m sure of it.”

“How…? How can you… how do you know?”

“You won’t die. Not today or tomorrow or the day after tomorrow. You will survive until we get to the city.”

“Until to the city?”

“And maybe some more.”

“But how can you be so sure?”

“It always like that.”

“Wha…?”

“Most story begins like that. Haven’t you read those tales from the book? Things always bad in the beginning, but in the end, all's well ends well.”

“Len, you can read?”

“You can’t?”

“What?”

“What?”

…

Most tales I read back there always have the same ending. It ends happily ever after. The prince got the princess. The knight slayed the dragon. The hero saved the world from evil.

In a fictional world setting, the world is, one way or another, always facing some sort of danger that could cost the entire cast of the story. The main protagonist would always survive or sacrifice his or her life at the end and brought peace upon the world.

At first, I couldn’t recognize these patterns, but after reading hundreds of them, it gets pretty predictable. Same formula, different executions.

I still enjoy them very much. They gave me happiness and excitement in this dull life.

Well, I mean, living as a peasant is not bad at all. Everywhere you see is calm and peaceful, but... I wanted to go on an adventure, exploring ruins and dungeons, chances of encounter with unique and memorable people, not going back and forth doing random errands like selling newspaper or a courier.

It was all because uncle introduced me to novels. Who would’ve thought that a paper with scribbles on it could take one’s mind to a whole new world? I sure didn’t.

Our village was raided.

Many of my favorite books were burned and lost among the crater. Uncle didn’t survive, but not because he was killed by those raiders, he died a year ago because of an illness. Since then my life took a deep dive and I had to take care of myself as an orphan.

Scavenging food through piles of garbage, drinking rainwater, eating once a day… it was difficult. From having food served on a wooden plate to dust and dirt, it was…

Even so, I still occasionally went to visit the local nun in the church. She had a huge collection of novels she collected back in her wild days. I don’t really understand what she meant, but I thought it was her private business.

I would read the books in the church at night when nobody was there just because they had candles which provides me with light. I couldn’t read in the day as bunch of bullies would bother me. Apparently because of my black hair they took me as an outsider that doesn’t belong there.

I heed them no mind. I’m weak and skinny, sport has never been one of my strong point so I couldn’t care less about playing football and hide and seek.

Those bitter-sweet days had ended.

Some people that I know died. Some survived. That girl was one of them survivor. I rarely spoke to her. She would play together with the other kids, mainly doing girly things like picking up flowers and braiding each other’s hair.

She’s and exception though. Her hair was short to her shoulder, so she’s always the one braiding other people’s hair. A quiet and gentle girl was what I thought. I knew that her dad left her mommy even before she was born. I guess that made her somewhat a celebrity in the village as she was the only one without a dad.

Maybe she realized herself that she is different from the other. Maybe that’s what made her a quiet girl, more of a spectator instead of a player. An audience instead of an actor, uh… actress.

We often saw each other. One time she gave me a candy. An extremely rare and precious sweets that only people with 2 silvers or above income could obtain. Her mummy certainly isn’t one of those people.

I still remember her answer when I asked her why she would gave me this precious piece of sugar. It was so clear… too clear in fact, like it just happened yesterday.

“My mum said a happy person is al~ways surrounded by happy people, and that’s how they became happy! I want to be happy, so I need you to be happy! Get it?”

Her face at that moment was something that she never expressed even in front of her friends. In that moment, her face was forever burned inside my brain. A quiet and shy girl like her could make such face, who would’ve thought? I sure didn’t.

And because of her face that she showed me… I felt special. A face of her that only I knew…

Now, everything has changed. Her face was the complete opposite of that day.

Did I gave her my food because I couldn’t handle her tears, or because of pure pity? I wish I knew.

But there was something else I knew. Without a doubt, she will survive.

I just knew inside my heart.

There was ‘ifs’ of what could happen. She will survive this predicament. Period.

It’s not like I have a gift to read the future. I don’t have magic or anything that could tell me a girl’s fate.

The reason why I’m sure she would survive was simple.

She was at the right place and at the right time to survive.

The signs and patterns are all there.

If we see it as a ‘tale’, this is how it went down.

A shy and quiet girl living in a small village away from the human civilization. She lived her life peacefully with her friends, playing braids, hide and seek, running around with a big smile plastered on her face. A short hair that distinguish her from the other, conspicuous, yet not pretentious.

But that’s not all there was. Behind her docile and gentle appearance, she was actually quite like the sun. Cheerful, a smile sweeter than the most prized candy in the world, blinding anyone who sees it. Tomboy-ish and naive, but she’s learning.

Then on a fateful day, her world was turned upside down. The people she loved, her mum and friends were murdered in cold blood by raiders. They came and pillaged the whole village, took all the valuables, slaughtered the men and raped the women.

The story took a pretty dark turn.

But the tale had just begun.

The survivors including her are on their way to the city, seeking shelter from the calamity they just experienced.

Just from the description alone one could tell she is a heroine. A person who is destined for something much greater.

And that was how I reached the conclusion ‘she will definitely survive no matter what’.

But then, how come she is the heroine of a story, you might ask. That’s simple. There’s always a rule that most author abide to in writing a protagonist.

The protagonist never realize that they are the protagonist.

This is not completely true.

I’ve read stories where the protagonist believed he is the protagonist of a story of some sort. But there are exceptions. In this context, she is a protagonist.

Few factors came into play to make a protagonist.

First, having a tragic past. This serves as the fuel for her motivation. Her mother was murdered and left alone on her way to a place she never been to, her life was in shambles.

It was quite a heartless thing to say, but…

Second, she was the only female child that survived. This alone labelled her as a ‘special’ existence.

Third, because I exist.

Let me reiterate, I’m an observer observing an actress playing a role of an heroine. Most of the elements were present. What’s left were the audience.

A girl alone without anyone to protect her, not knowing of what the world has in for her. A little helping hand and a little push will do.

Just a gentle, soft push to make her stand up.

I can see it already, what the future has in for her.

She will survive this predicament without fail. Nothing will stand on her way. A future where she could stand with both her feet, tall and mighty. A journey of a lifetime awaits.

Whenever she face a hard time, a hurdle where she cannot power-through with her own strength and will, I will be there to help her. Whatever happens, she will become a heroine in this tale.

No matter what, I will ensure she will make it. She will survive. She will figure out who she really wants to be, her purpose, her dreams, I will make sure all of it becomes real. I bet my life on it.

Why you ask? I guess that’s pretty obvious already. Probably because… I love her more than I do myself.