I was born in the kingdom of Norland, In a small city next to the capital.
My father with my mother, settled down in the town about 20 years ago, I remember.
Before then, we were just moving from place to places, wandering around the whole of Norland.
When we finally found a good place to settle, my father decided to open a simple shop, borrowing money from his close friends and the bank.
Business was fine; enough people were in the town for customers, and we got high-quality stuff, bought straight from the producers. It wasn't a lot of money; just enough to eat three decent meals a day and pay the rent. But we were happy that we finally stopped being wanderers, and found a good place to settle in.
Until one day, the shop burst into flames.
Facing our shop was a pub. It was always full of people, especially in late nights, which meant that, fight was inevitable.
Two men, both drunk, were fighting on the road. It seemed like the fight started in the bar, then moved on to the roads.
One man pulled the other around, and they both were thrown into the shop.
I have no idea how they managed to find and light the match while they were drunk. It seemed as though it started with a fistfight, which led to one man lighting a hay bale on fire and swinging it around at the other.
Of course, our shop wasn't too strong.
The hay bale, with still a little spark on it, started to consume the shop, spreading everywhere. It wasn't very humid, early fall.
The fire spread through the shop like mad, and it wasn't too long until my father figured it out.
With enormous amounts of money borrowed from the bank to build the shop, he just couldn't figure out a way to make up for it.
Every day, people from the bank would burst in through our doors, and I would see my father talk to them, even kneeling down to them to give him more time.
Nobody gave him a job, since he had bad credit ratings.
Days went by, and now every bit of our belongings which was able to be sold belonged to the bank.
Our house, our clothes, our everything.
Until one day, when my father was stressed enough, he put an end to his tiring life.
I was the first to find his body 12 years ago. I still remember as it was yesterday, Him hanging from the celling.
One of dad's friends felt poor for me, and decided that he would take care of me until I was strong enough to live on my own.
And now here I am, ready to step outside into the real world.
