I have a tale to tell!
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Username: queen fap
Story Title: Guilt
Fairy Tale Used: The Seven Ravens
Judge's Review: YES
Peer Reviews: YES
My Story:
I have always been an only child. Always. Never once did I think—not even wish—to have other siblings. I am satisfied with where I am; or at least I was. Just days ago it feels like, my parents told me the truth surrounding my birth. I had seven brothers. Seven of them! Seven cheerful, rowdy young boys, as far as I knew. Then they were gone! In the first day I was born, actually. They said it was the "Will of Heaven." I accepted this as what was true. What else should I have done?
After the questioning, life seemed to go back to being normal. During the day-by-day way in which we lived, I found something amiss now that I knew of my brother's....disappearance, would one call it? There was something that arose from deep inside my chest, slowly closing in around my heart and giving it a gentle squeeze. It was not a pleasant feeling. It would happen whenever I thought of my brothers, and my chest would feel uncomfortable and tight when I was reminded it was because of my birth.
Was it my fault, then? Was I to blame for the way they left?
I could only brood over these thoughts as I lie in bed, my mind whirling this way and that. This uncomfortable feeling plagued me even in my dreams. In my dreams, though, it was worse. I would often see different images of black, all rushing about so fast I could not keep up. Even so, I knew somehow it was my brothers. I could not make out words, and I could never see them no matter how many times I turned this way and that, no matter how loudly I called.
I was beginning to fear for my sanity. So, in order to qualm these dreams and feelings—of guilt I realized—I set out on a journey. This journey was over what felt like a very, very long time. I wandered throughout my home country, going farther than I had stepped in my whole life! Sometimes I would skip and jump from the freedom I felt, from the wind blowing softly through my hair, from the fresh air all around me. Then, there were times where I would shiver and shake in fear, in loneliness. I had always been without siblings, but I had never been truly alone. Not until now.
At times I almost went back. I would turn from the horizon and stare into the distance, an ache in my heart for my home. Then, I would think of my brothers and that same feeling of guilt would emerge. So I would continue on. I felt as though I traveled to the very ends of the earth, just to find any trace of my siblings. One particular night, during my hazy exhaustion, staring up at the stars, I thought I heard voices. Sweet, soft, kind voices. They spoke all at once, their whispers reaching my ears just barely. Too tired to attempt to decode the jibber-jabber, I allowed sleep to claim me and in the middle of the night something must have happened, for in the morning a drumstick lap in my lap, as well as the meaning of it in my head.
That dream flashed in my mind, and I bit my lip lightly. This was baffling, but I was sore and tired of all this searching that I was willing to believe anything. Wrapping the stick carefully in a cloth, I continued on to this "glass castle" that kept appearing in my mind. I must have not been paying attention, for at one point in my journey—nearing the castle—I unfolded the cloth and saw that it was gone! One can imagine the panic I was in, coming this far to only find myself unable to finish it. My breath was coming out in panicked gasps as I frantically searched for the drumstick. I retraced my steps; running back and forth and even digging through dirt!
I was exhausted. I was tiring of this journey fast. I wanted to be home, but not without my brothers.
I was despairing the more I went without finding that drumstick. I pounded my fists into the ground and turned my head to the cry, screaming in rage. It wasn't fair! All this way, just to lose my only hope? Tears pricked and flowed from my eyes, streaming down my cheeks. Wandering my way dizzily back to the door, I stared at it, wondering what to do. Then an idea bloomed. An idea that I could not have come up with had I not been in this state of mind. I was a good child. With good ideas. This would prove it, would it not? With quaking fingers I slid a knife across my little finger, feeling faint as pain bloomed.
Never had I known pain this intense! I nearly keeled over, but instead held strong, using my detached finger to open the door.
