Even at my birth, my mother new I would not be a normal child, after all, the origins of my birth were anything but normal. I was an adult before my mother volunteered any information about my father, and even then, it took, tantrums threats a ridiculous amount of childishness before she finally agreed to tell me. It wasn’t necessarily the best look for me, but you got to do what you got to do sometimes. From a stranger’s perspective, a large man was shouting and waving vigorously at a diminutive middle-aged woman in the middle of a massive forest, with steam was coming out of his ears, and his eyes bloodshot. The large guy is me, if whatever idiot reading this wasn’t able to guess. My name is Dante Borja, and that afternoon was the apex of the argument that had been going on for since I turned 3. “Holy Fuck mom, is it really that difficult to tell me who my father was, I’m 24 years old and have already met my quota for the next 5 years, you said you would tell me years ago, no more excuses.”
Dante’s mother who went by the name Jora, rolled her eyes at her son and then glared at him when she him take out makeup and begin to paint in a tearful Shakespearean face. “I am this close to sending you to Pherm on your own so I can have a year or two of peace and quiet. Maybe after you’ve killed your first half-god, I tell you about that bastard.”
The new black and white face of tragedy twitched in annoyance. “NO, this is absolutely ridiculous mom, I am done we’ve been talking in circles for years about this! I’m not going to leave this spot till you tell me about my father.”
“Very well.” Sighed Jora, but instead of starting to talk, she began walking away.
“Wait, where are you going?” said Dante
“Well, I been meaning to get rid of you for a few years now, and given how stubborn you are, you’ll be standing there for at least a couple of hours, so this gives me the perfect opportunity to walk away and disappear.”
Consternation appeared under the makeup on Dante’s face. If he stayed standing in this spot, there was a high possibility of his mother walking away, and knowing her, he would have to waste at least a year trying to find her. However, if he did go and follow her, he would look like a complete child, and now he was trying to only act like half of one. Rubbing his head and realizing how much of a complete idiot he was, Dante sat down cross-legged.
And there he sat for the next three days. For Dante, the first day had been on purpose, the second and third day less so. After the first day his legs fell asleep so completely, he couldn’t move them. And now he could still feel his mother’s eyes on him, so instead of falling to the side to stop pinching whatever nerve was causing this temporary paralysis and looking like more of an idiot, he sat there stonily refusing to lose the petty game the mother and son had been playing his entire life. It was the evening of the third day when his mother finally stormed over from his right side. “You are such a fucking pain in the ass you know that Dante.” She stormed. “You know mom, after you say sometime hundreds of times it starts to lose its edge.” Dante replied with a smirk with his eyes still closed. “Quit acting all high and mighty you blowhard, wakeup up your legs and go get some wood to make a fire, I guess I’m going to tell you how you were born. Dante opened his eyes in surprise, he would have done this years ago if he had thought it would actually work. “Get over yourself.” Said Jora as if reading Dante’s mind, I had already made up my mind to tell you, I just realized that because of your idiocy I may have end up wasting a week here before you decided to give up and move. Rolling his eyes and unsure whether his mother was telling the truth, Dante fell onto his side. An hour later, a small fire burning brightly in the dark silent forest. Dante was sitting next the fire eating a raccoon he had come across while searching for wood. The meat was terrible, but his mom refused to give hm any of the dry food stores she was carrying, and Dante was starving after sitting for three days straight. After finishing the terrible meal Dante glared at his mother. “Don’t worry” said Jora without looking up for a book she had been staring at through his meal. “I’m not tricking you this time; I’ll start my story when the time is right. Dante rolled his eyes, his mother always liked to play the mysterious woman, but it got old when he was the only one in the audience and she had already taught him all her tricks, so it wasn’t very mysterious. It was another hour before Jora closed the book and stored it somewhere in her cloak, Dante never could tell where she stored it. Jora reached into her cloak and pulled out a handful of glittering dust which she promptly threw on the fire. Blue Smoke was instantly produced, but instead of traveling up to the stars the smoke swirled around and enveloped them both. The forest around where the fire once crackled became dark, only lit by the half-moon hovering above. Inside the smoke Jora began to speak, it all began at the southernmost tip of the continent, in a small village that no longer exists, I was 12 years old at the time and had no idea of the pain that awaited me. As Jora spoke a small village appeared in the smoke, a young child that looked vaguely like Jora also appeared.
It was like any other morning for the 12-year-old as she help her mother gather flowers for dyes. While the village of tyre was not a large one, because they were a part of a minor trading run along the coast, they survived by selling dyed clothing and fish to the passing merchant, and pirate vessels. Most of the men of the village had at least at one time worked for or been pirates so there was an understanding between the pirates and most of the local villages along the coast.
Tyre produced specific royal blue dye that was produced by crushing bugs then reacting the guts with lime and steaming it. It was a secret of the village, and they would be rich beyond compare if the bugs reproduced quickly, but because of the limited habitat and slow reproduction of the bug, they reallyonly produced a small amount, and these bug habitats were found along the coast an produced by most villages.
Jora had been sent by her mother that morning to go and search for the dye bugs. Having done this many times growing up, Jora followed the familiar path up from the coast into the cooler rocky forest. The bugs tended to drill and hide in holes of the large pine trees located throughout the forest. The technique to drive the bugs out of the pine tree was to light a specially made paper and and blow the smoke into the hole in the tree and wait. IF there was a dye bug in there, in about thirty seconds they would come out crawling like they are drunk.
Jorah was in the middle of waiting for dye bug to crawl out its home when she heard a voice behind.
“Ahh there you are Jora, you mother told me I could find you out here.” Unfamiliar with the voice, Jora spun around startled.
A stranger was leaning on a tree staring at her, he was a large man with grey hair and black eyes that examined her greedily.
Who are you?” Jora asked already kind of scared just from looking at the intimating stranger.
“Oh, I’m an old friend of your father’s, your mother was busy, so she asked me to come and get you.”
Jora drew the small knife from the sheath on her belt. “I don’t believe you; my mom wouldn’t send a stranger to come and get me. Do you think I’m stupid?”
The stranger’s eyes seemed to light up as soon as Jora drew her knife. “Not sure you know how close you are coming to dying right now. But I’m in a good mood today so I’m going to tell you the truth you are correct, your mother didn’t send me. But I’ll tell you what because I’m is such a good mood, lets play a game, I’m going to close my eyes and count to 50. If you’re able to reach tyre before I catch you, I’ll let you go home safely if not.” The stranger raised his arm and a knife shot out of his wrist to land directly in his hand. “We will have some fun.” He said with a grin.
Jora was frozen in terror, then he closed his eyes and started to count, “1, 2, 3…”
For half a second Jora thought about trying to stab the man while he had his eyes closed, but even the thought of getting closer to the man terrified her. So, she started running, she knew the trail like the back of her hand, but in this moment in time everything felt strange as if nothing was real. It was a 15-minute walk from where she was to the village, but running, she might be able to make it in 5 minutes.
“Ready or not here I come.” A voice said close to her ear.
Jora screamed, and looked back, no one was there. Tears started to roll down her face, trying to wipe them away she kept running for home.
Jora fell three times on her way to home, blood dripped from scratches on her hands and knees where they had been scraped by fallen branches and sharp rocks. She started crying even more when she made it. The wooden gate was open and luckily no guards were in front, so she was able to enter without slowing down. She kept running for home terrified that the stranger was going to appear and grab her. She made it home without anyone in the village stopping her. As she opened the door, and sobbed escape her mouth and she yelled “Mom.”
There was no answer, so Jora yelled again “Mom??”
Wiping the tears from her eyes Jora, walked through the kitchen and exited the back door of the house towards the small workshop that both her parents spent most of the day in.
Jora couldn’t hear anything coming out of the workshop, so she got kind of scared and yelled, “Mom.”
Her mom replied “What wrong honey come in.”
Tears began to fall from Jora’s face in relief and she pushed the door open. The strand was in the midst of pinning both of her parents to the wall. As the door finished opening, the Stranger waved with a cheerful smile, “I was wondering how long it was gonna take you to get here. You were faster than I expected.”
Shock filled Jora’s mind as she stared in frozen horror from the smiling man to the blood dripping down the from the pinned bodies of her parents. She started screaming and turned to run away when everything went black.
The stranger smiled to himself as he walked away from the prone girl to finish pinning the girls parents. He finished by writing a lovely note for whatever major organization were the first ones to find the village.
Walking over the to unconscious girl, he laughed and said to the prone figure. “This was a lot more fun than I thought it was going to be, I think I’m going to keep you around for a bit longer.”
Picking up Jorah he continued to talk, telling her all the funs games they would play to together. The stranger walked out of the eerily quite village with a cheerful smile and a 12-year-old girl slung over his shoulder.
That evening the ten small fishing boats that the fishermen used to provide the village with the staple of every meal. It was weird that harbor master didn’t come to greet them on the pier, but every boat had landed before the fisherman became disgruntled enough after yelling for the man for 5 minutes, to walk to his house so they could sort out the fish and go home. All they found was silence and death