You’ve just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As you look around, your gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. You duck and step into a tattered tent, illuminated by a series of candles suspended in the air. At the back of the tent, an old hag raises her head, “What brings you to this dingy town? she begins, then pauses to study your face—”Ah, it’s you. I’ve been expecting you. Sit,” she gestures at a cushion, “Tell me your story.”
((How do you respond?))
With reluctance and confusion on what she meant by she's been expecting me, I removed my mask, walk over to the cushion and take a seat. I look at the ground for a moment trying to find the right moment of my life to begin my story.
"Ever since I was a younger boy," I said looking up at the lady before continuing, "I've been faced with death. My village was overrun by disease, the plague to be exact, and it seemed to follow me wherever I went." I started tearing up. The look of the old lady felt calming and familiar.
I continued "Eventually my family caught it. Within 3 months both my parents and older sister died. My brother and I barely managed to live and we were considered exceptionably lucky." I start sobbing and can't even think to form another sentence. After five minutes I finally continue "From that point on I wanted to make sure that every family and every person wouldn't have to go through what my brother and I had gone through, so I started learning medicine." I started to speak louder and with more intensity, "Traveling from town to town, gathering as much information about every disease imaginable. I raided graves for freshly buried bodies to dissect and learn more about our organs," I stop for a moment before to catch my breath before resuming, "After six months of traveling with my brother he came down with what looked liked to be a lung disease. I tried to help with my very limited knowledge of medicine but sadly, it was of no use." At this point I wasn't feeling any emotions. It felt strange, I had always felt something my entire life. Even telling the old lady I felt something but not anymore. It wasn't the good type of nothing either, not calm, not happy or sad or mad. Just nothing.
This is the first time I started to look around the tent. It was kind of cozy, for the past 2 and a half years I've been surrounded by huge towns, with large castles, churches, and even the shops were big, but being in small town with little cabins, shacks and tents, it felt like home. The home I was forced to leave. The home where I made my first friend, and had my first memories. It was oddly comforting. You would think more developed towns would feel better to live at, but the grandness of them always felt overwhelming to me. It was mainly the small towns where I felt safe, despite the lack of security. Small towns like this one is where a spent the first 11 years of my life. Maybe that's why I'm always so drawn to them. THAT'S IT! That's why the lady's look seemed so familiar, it's the same comforting look my mother had, in the same type of small hut, in the same type of town. That's what I've been looking for familiarity. Ever since we had to move everything felt so weird. Looking at all the new ecosystems and cityscapes, was to much new stuff without the balance of old experiences was stressing me out.
With this new found energy I looked at the old lady and said "Thank you so much for listening but I have to get going. I have to learn more things about the world of medicine." I got up and put on my mask. I smiled at the lady, "I know all you did you listen but thank you." I walk out the tent and head to the next city.
Recommended Comments