Chapter 1: Daydream
The hard soil dug into my back as I looked up at the gray morning sky. My bones froze from the cold, my body ached from the pain, and my hands and arms were covered in dirt and blood. I rolled over on my side and found myself face to face with a Lilac flower—it’s beautiful pinkish petals shining in my eyes. A woman picked up the flower and set it onto my chest as she sobbed quietly into the empty air. I couldn’t see anything and my vision started to blur as I gently touched the person’s hand.
She let out a tearful laugh as she laced her fingers through mine. As I felt the last of my strength leave me I heard her voice ring softly into my ears, “Goodbye Goldilocks, goodbye.”
I snapped out of my intense day-dream as sunshine immediately hit my eyes. I quickly moved my feet.
Run, keep running.
It was summertime, and the early morning air still loomed over my small village town. The creek glistened with a crystal blue haze as the ancient trees of the forest towered over my home like old seers--watching gently over our people. My town was never very full of life, beautiful but never really joyful. No children were playing, no adults were gossiping by the fountain, and laughter around here was about as rare as gold.
I had been daydreaming about something…something really intense and important. I remembered the face of a woman, a flower, a lot of pain, and a vast gray sky. Everything about it was strange–why had I been daydreaming about flowers and girls? Weren’t day-dreams supposed to be about things you wanted to do? I guess I did like flowers and girls….
But I didn’t have much time to daydream–not right now and not anytime ever.
Our peasant town was located on the eastern front of our empire. It wasn’t called the ‘peasant town’ for jokes—our class of people were really called the peasantry. It was the lowest social class and being in it really sucked. My mother and father were always hard at work. Always farming, always growing, always gleaning, and always, always tired and half dead.
Then eventually, they did die—due to exhaustion—which was the most common type of death for our people. Their death wasn’t marvelous, nor incredible, and definitely not memorable. They were never anyone special--or at least not to anyone else but me. I had some friends growing up and life always felt a lot better with them by my side. We didn’t have it all that terrible…towns in the more northern parts of the empire had to deal with harsh winters on top of all these other messes.
But death wasn’t uncommon, and me being an orphan wasn’t special. I didn’t feel particularly empty, and no one felt that way for me either. That was life, and life for me somehow always continued to fall lower day by day.
But I think I’m really starting to hit rock bottom, because being chased by a homicidal butcher felt pretty awful.
I heard a gruff voice exclaim loudly, “Hey where’s that fucking rat!” The man wore a classic butcher’s coat and carried a large gleaming silver butcher knife in his hand. He wore an angry and half annoyed expression on his face. “I heard the peasants' lands are being bought by the nobles so the rats have been scavenging around my store lately,” the man spit on the ground and strutted towards me with an evil grin. “But no one cares about you, do they? I could use another slave around here–let's hope you're a girl.” I heard him unstrap his belt and my blood froze cold.
My heart beat fast, and my eyes grew like saucers as I looked around for an escape. I stayed crouched down behind a cart of apples and looked at the street before me. I had just run from my village to the commercial city district. There were shops aligned on the right side, and the creek that separated my town from the commercial district on the left. Could I jump into the stream? Could I run fast enough to reach another alleyway? I couldn’t fight so what was I supposed to do? I heard his steps echo around us as his boots slammed down onto the street. I could hear his breath slowly rising in pace as he smelled blood in the water. I closed my eyes--all I wanted was some food for myself. My home was gone, my family, my everything. I had no money. What was I supposed to do? Angry, silent tears flowed down my face as I expected to feel a large hand on my back, or even worse—a blade.
Then I heard another set of footsteps. The butcher turned and his eyes got even wider as his grin turned to an open mouth of fear. He immediately dropped down on his knees into a deep bow as a tall man appeared. He wore a navy blue coat with gold filigree and sported a ring made of black diamond. He had dark black eyes, a handsome face, and light brown hair that was slicked back in order to reveal his cream colored complexion. He looked slightly agitated when he saw the butcher. His nose wrinkled slightly, “I thought that individuals here dressed slightly more……pleasantly,” he spoke with a monotone voice, “I also thought that carrying knives in public was an offense.”
The butcher stammered up a response,“Yes sir! My deepest apologies, I never expected to meet an esteemed noble such as yourself in our humble town. I will greet you anywhere you would like to go!” The noble was exuding an aura of confidence, prestige, and immeasurable power. He felt incredibly strong, like the ground was trying to hold up his weight. The air seemed to get lighter? It was an odd sensation but his presence felt like trying to stand at the bottom of the deepest sea.
“I have no intention of wandering around with someone like you,” the noble then strutt past the still terrified and kneeling butcher. He looked directly at the man with his night-like eyes and released a wave of power from his body which, while not directed at me, I felt. A form of shockwave-like energy fell all around us as I was forced into a sprawling position. The butcher was immediately pushed into the ground as a small crater formed where his body once was.
His now lifeless corpse was a mess of blood and organs, mashed on the sidewalk.
Walking past my terrified body he gave a careless glance. “Be grateful I was here. Pick yourself up–make something of yourself. Pathetic child.” He then disappeared into thin air and I was left lifeless on the floor. Anger, guilt, and sorrow all filled me. He had caused my parents to die by working them to death and by making them run off to get killed while searching for food. He ruined my life, but also saved me. I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t even say anything to him, I couldn’t even accuse him of his injustices, I failed my parents—my people. My powerless corpse cried more tears as I clutched my loaf of bread on the ground. Things will get worse, I told myself, don’t break now.