Nameless

Three young people sat in stunned silence at the end of the story. Their grandmother sat rocking in her chair, a ginger cat curled up asleep on her ample lap.
“Grandma, did that really happen?” the youngest, a girl, still at the age where true love and princess stories are very much in high demand.
“What happened next? Did Korin kill any more evil vampires?” asked the girl’s twin brother, who liked adventures best of all.
“Were they married, with lots of kids?” asked the third child, the twins elder sister, two years their senior. The old lady sitting in the rocking chair smiled warmly at her grandchildren.
“It did indeed happen, my dears, though it was a very, very long time ago. No, Korin never did kill any more vampires, and yes, Korin and Aylen did get married and did have plenty of children. Even a set of twins, just like you two.” She said, looking at the pair in front of her.
“How do you know its true, though, Grandma?” the eldest asked, head cocked to the side curiously.
“Because my great-grandmother was the daughter of Aylen and Korin. Their story lives on in our hearts, you know.” The children at her feet had looks of awe in their eyes. The twins, Nissa and Darien, both had black hair, though their eyes were different, Nissa had purple eyes, while Darien had green eyes. Only Nadia had the red hair and green eyes of her great-great-great-great-grandfather, though her temperament was more that of his wife.
A picture hung over the fireplace, a family: smiling; parents, the heroes of the story that had just been told, and their children. A pair of twins, much like those beneath the painting ranged around their mother; ten years old. An older girl, fourteen or fifteen, stood next to her father. And a baby boy, still in his mother’s lap at the time.

And so the story of Aylen and Korin lives on, until, in due time, like all stories, it will be lost amid many, many others. But it will not quite be forgotten; only laid down for a while. One day, it will be replayed with different names and faces, but it will still be their story, as it was for those before them.

Stories are Life. You may walk the earth a hundred years and not live if you’ve never been told the right story.