Post by Amba on Jul 30, 2014 3:29:14 GMT
"…and so mother Gange cursed her because of her stubbornness. Half of her soul was cursed to be a river to accompany Mother Gange forever. It became this river."
"Her soul was splitted, father? And what about the other part?"
"The other part continued to live, my son. Living but with part of her soul meandered the earth forever. And in due time the other half will find her purpose…"
He paused teasingly.
"But it would be a story for another time."
The father smiled, looking at his son whose eyes shone impatiently. This one of the time he loved the most. The time when he had to cut off her stories and made his only son wondered on and on until tomorrow.
They were walking home as usual from the village. The sun was beginning to slip away, its red fingers spreading lazily into the clear monsoon sky. All along the riverside path the broad leaved trees yawned and groaned, giddy from the soft touch of the evening breeze. There were no other people walking the path where the father and son were, and accompanying their lonely steps were the gentle trickling of the River Amba, a tributary of the Great River Ganges that ran across the villages where the father and son walked each day to sell the fishes they had caught.
For them, the River Amba was a blessing. Their source of living.
“…”
Until that night happened.
***
“Fa-father…why?”
The voice from the opened door was stifled, terrified. The starless night sky made a background to his shivering silhouette. Answering him was another voice. Stifled too, but far from terrified.
“Oh lookie here. You’re the one we’ve been looking for.”
Another voice answered the first one. This one was colder, but also strangely gentler.
“Look, child. We don’t want any trouble. Your father should’ve said he didn’t know rather than trying to protect you…”
“Yeah we know what…”
“Shut up! As I was saying before, we do not want to do you harm. Really. We just need that strange stick everyone said you found near the river weeks ago.”
The boy was terrified. He was trembling from head to toe. But his mind snapped at the mention of the unusual stick.
“T-this…?”
He hesitantly brought out the stick, his pride for weeks now towards his friend. It was a wooden stick some inches length, long enough to be an arrow. The point was tapered and still clad in iron, and the stick was so hard that the boy had won every single fight game since he found that stick.
One thing he did not notice, was that the stick had wings on one of its end.
It was A Golden-winged Arrow.
The first figure whistled.
“Yes. Yes that is. Give that to me. Good boy.”
Slowly, the boy reached out and gave the stick towards the figure. He was nearly crying now, but the bravery in his eyes was commendable. This was his own house after all. And however small or isolated that house is it was still the property of him and his father.
He would protect it.
“Ah good.”
At all cost.
“Now…we do not need you anymore”.
*****
Prologue END
"Her soul was splitted, father? And what about the other part?"
"The other part continued to live, my son. Living but with part of her soul meandered the earth forever. And in due time the other half will find her purpose…"
He paused teasingly.
"But it would be a story for another time."
The father smiled, looking at his son whose eyes shone impatiently. This one of the time he loved the most. The time when he had to cut off her stories and made his only son wondered on and on until tomorrow.
They were walking home as usual from the village. The sun was beginning to slip away, its red fingers spreading lazily into the clear monsoon sky. All along the riverside path the broad leaved trees yawned and groaned, giddy from the soft touch of the evening breeze. There were no other people walking the path where the father and son were, and accompanying their lonely steps were the gentle trickling of the River Amba, a tributary of the Great River Ganges that ran across the villages where the father and son walked each day to sell the fishes they had caught.
For them, the River Amba was a blessing. Their source of living.
“…”
Until that night happened.
***
“Fa-father…why?”
The voice from the opened door was stifled, terrified. The starless night sky made a background to his shivering silhouette. Answering him was another voice. Stifled too, but far from terrified.
“Oh lookie here. You’re the one we’ve been looking for.”
Another voice answered the first one. This one was colder, but also strangely gentler.
“Look, child. We don’t want any trouble. Your father should’ve said he didn’t know rather than trying to protect you…”
“Yeah we know what…”
“Shut up! As I was saying before, we do not want to do you harm. Really. We just need that strange stick everyone said you found near the river weeks ago.”
The boy was terrified. He was trembling from head to toe. But his mind snapped at the mention of the unusual stick.
“T-this…?”
He hesitantly brought out the stick, his pride for weeks now towards his friend. It was a wooden stick some inches length, long enough to be an arrow. The point was tapered and still clad in iron, and the stick was so hard that the boy had won every single fight game since he found that stick.
One thing he did not notice, was that the stick had wings on one of its end.
It was A Golden-winged Arrow.
The first figure whistled.
“Yes. Yes that is. Give that to me. Good boy.”
Slowly, the boy reached out and gave the stick towards the figure. He was nearly crying now, but the bravery in his eyes was commendable. This was his own house after all. And however small or isolated that house is it was still the property of him and his father.
He would protect it.
“Ah good.”
At all cost.
“Now…we do not need you anymore”.
*****
Prologue END
