Status: Progressing
The Melancholy Tales of the Pearl-Tears
The Beginning
Once upon a time, there lived a lonely feather-haired boy that resided in a cave, overlooking a small village. This boy was shunned by the townspeople, he was strange and different. He wasn’t like them.
As the years went by, and this boy grew older, he grew to hate the village people; he grew to hate all of mankind. Their loud jeers and laughter chipped away at the edges of his charred black spirit.
He would occasionally whisper plagues to the wind, sending his wicked words down to the village where it became a reality. The villagers woes were his lullabies, he was pleased to see them distraught.
He was bad luck and they knew this, so one day while the boy was busy gathering berries for the harvest-time, a selected group of courageous farm men threw him an offering he surely would not resist. They had no use for it, they were even happy to get rid of it; its presence was just a hindrance to the humble village.
As the boy walked back to his abode, he heard a reedy cry, long and sorrowful. He rushed into his cavern, outraged and blind with anger. There he saw a frail-boned body, tangled mud-colored hair, and dirty rags for clothes; a girl lay on his floor, her whimpers breaking the silence.
As if sensing his presence, the pitiful being tried getting up, her thin hands shaking with effort, with a small grunt of pain she weakly said “Sir…”
Her head was turned away from him, as if her face were too ugly of a thing to even show. “Sir, I-I’m so sorry.” She managed to get on all fours, but she fell back down. His eyes narrowed to slits, a strange nameless something resounded throughout his body. With a growl he learned to mimic from the mountain wolves, he backed away from the girl, who was now dragging herself slowly to him.
She carefully picked up her head, looking directly at him. His eyes widened with surprise, he shook his head in disbelief. Silently, the girl was crying pearl-tears, small droplets of spheres making their way down her cheeks. Three crashed to the floor where they bounced away from the two beings, their sound encompassing the echoing cavern. She carefully gathered up her three pearl-tears in shaky hands, where she hesitantly held out her dirty palms to him. He shook his head, brows furrowed, and feathers standing on edge like a startled cat.
He knew this was futile, she was not able to see him; her cloudy eyes exhibited this. Her eyes looked wildly around, until they slowly landed on him, where he knew she couldn’t see him, but could feel his presence.
“Please.” She pleaded weakly. The strange nameless something the boy had felt earlier for this girl arrived yet again, he flinched in response. He took one small pearl-tear, turning it over in his talon-hands.
“Eat.” She urged, eyes still steady on him. He looked doubtful, staring at the pearl-tear; it was soft and milk-white.
He ate it.
As the years went by, and this boy grew older, he grew to hate the village people; he grew to hate all of mankind. Their loud jeers and laughter chipped away at the edges of his charred black spirit.
He would occasionally whisper plagues to the wind, sending his wicked words down to the village where it became a reality. The villagers woes were his lullabies, he was pleased to see them distraught.
He was bad luck and they knew this, so one day while the boy was busy gathering berries for the harvest-time, a selected group of courageous farm men threw him an offering he surely would not resist. They had no use for it, they were even happy to get rid of it; its presence was just a hindrance to the humble village.
As the boy walked back to his abode, he heard a reedy cry, long and sorrowful. He rushed into his cavern, outraged and blind with anger. There he saw a frail-boned body, tangled mud-colored hair, and dirty rags for clothes; a girl lay on his floor, her whimpers breaking the silence.
As if sensing his presence, the pitiful being tried getting up, her thin hands shaking with effort, with a small grunt of pain she weakly said “Sir…”
Her head was turned away from him, as if her face were too ugly of a thing to even show. “Sir, I-I’m so sorry.” She managed to get on all fours, but she fell back down. His eyes narrowed to slits, a strange nameless something resounded throughout his body. With a growl he learned to mimic from the mountain wolves, he backed away from the girl, who was now dragging herself slowly to him.
She carefully picked up her head, looking directly at him. His eyes widened with surprise, he shook his head in disbelief. Silently, the girl was crying pearl-tears, small droplets of spheres making their way down her cheeks. Three crashed to the floor where they bounced away from the two beings, their sound encompassing the echoing cavern. She carefully gathered up her three pearl-tears in shaky hands, where she hesitantly held out her dirty palms to him. He shook his head, brows furrowed, and feathers standing on edge like a startled cat.
He knew this was futile, she was not able to see him; her cloudy eyes exhibited this. Her eyes looked wildly around, until they slowly landed on him, where he knew she couldn’t see him, but could feel his presence.
“Please.” She pleaded weakly. The strange nameless something the boy had felt earlier for this girl arrived yet again, he flinched in response. He took one small pearl-tear, turning it over in his talon-hands.
“Eat.” She urged, eyes still steady on him. He looked doubtful, staring at the pearl-tear; it was soft and milk-white.
He ate it.
♠ ♠ ♠
This story is supposed to be simple, like the many fairy tales we read when we were young. So please bear with me with the lack of detail and repetitiveness, aren't fairy tales supposed to be like that?