“There speaks a voice from ages past, long before the rise of stars, which tells us secrets of lives that passed. In the chaos that spread throughout the world, men rose from their dark holes. Scarred and scared, they couldn’t cope with the chaos felt. The world had changed from night to day, centuries spent in deep dark caves, and all they knew was grief and pain.
Let me tell you the story, brothers and sisters in chains, of what could very well be the origin of Kenash itself. You see, Kenash was not always a large city as it is today. There weren’t always fields for us to work on, nor there were whips cracking behind us. This tale, dear family of mine, is long before these walls were raised. Perhaps we can learn something out of it, or ponder about it for days, or we can simply use it to pass the times now that the sun above our heads scorches our flesh. Listen , workers and servants, for this may perhaps explain to you how our masters were born.
There speaks a tale, perhaps as ancient as this very swamp that is based around a small village. Perhaps that village was Kenash in its surely humble origins, or perhaps it is a place that no longer exists due to the story I’m about to tell you. The thing is, everyone within that place lived a simple life. There were no chains back then, or at least not wrapped around people. It was a modest place kept alive by the hard work of each and every individual that lived between them. There was no beauty nor there any refinement, for both the houses and the streets were made of mud. The townsfolk dressed simply, most of the times wrapped in rags like us, and they reeked perhaps even worse than us! They worked really hard, day after day praying to the Gods for rain to fall, for crops to grow, for hunger to subside. Many died waiting for an answer, as food was scarce and the harvests were poor. Despite all the suffering, they never turned their backs on each other, and decided to remain together forever no matter how hard life was. Children wept as their stomachs growled, mothers abandoned their newborns in the plains for they could not feed them, and fathers came home to curl in their beds and hope for a miracle.
This one day, however, that miracle came through the doors of the village. A man, as handsome as the stars, as wise as the earth itself presented himself in the middle of the night when the inhabitants woke. This man, you see, was someone special. Unlike them, he had something they had never known. It wasn’t flour, nor was it water. It was a smile! A smile, indeed, was the only thing the village had never known, for it represented a sentiment unbeknownst to the townsfolk. Shocked by that simple gesture, they stared for two days straight. It was in the third night that one of the farmers approached the man, falling to his knees and begging and weeping to the man to teach him how to do that, how to smile and how to take all the pain away. The man, smiling still, kneeled before the man and whispered in his ear. And just like that, the farmer smiled with his yellow teeth, and was forever happy. The stranger left, but the farmer never lost his smile.
Nobody knew what the man had whispered to him, and he did not share the secret to happiness. When he worked, he smiled. When his family starved, he smiled. Nobody knew, indeed, what the secret of happiness was. That was until the mysterious stranger returned three nights later, bearing a basket full of bread and a bucket full of water. The townsfolk had never seen food in such abundance, immediately falling to their knees and begging to the man, to which he fed them and satiated their thirst. A few of the villagers approached him, and asked him for the secret. They too were blessed with smiles by the time the mysterious man, and they too were quiet as to what the secret was. Nobody spoke and nobody shared that secret, being forever between them and the traveling man.
The town slowly began splitting in two, one half being the one bearing smiles, and the other bearing pain. It was obvious that the secret of the smile would not be revealed until they too pleaded to the mysterious man, and the sad souls of those humble people knew it. But the problems only grew, you see, as one day a man was found dead. It was one of the unhappy ones, one of those who knew not how to smile. Tortured beyond imagination, nobody but those unhappy souls seemed to care, as those who smiled did not lose their wide grins. Each day the stranger returned, more of the unhappy joined the happy, and more victims appeared. The distrust grew within the humble village - eventually splitting the town in two by building a wall in the middle. The unhappy, whom were still the majority, began feeling threatened by those smiles, and their fear increased as the tortured bodies of their unhappy neighbors kept appearing in the mud. After a dozen bodies found, the unhappy no longer allowed the mysterious man near their town – they threw mud at him, hoping to dissuade him from ever coming again. Before leaving their lives forever, the man returned one last time, this time bringing a small item with him. Nobody knew what the item was, and it was tossed somewhere in the mud to never be found again. The man said the item would be the curse of the unhappy, swearing that they would never find joy in life and that there would be no happiness for them for all eternity.
So disturbed they were by this curse that befell on them, the unhappy were not able to sleep no matter how tired they were. They worked hard, trying to bring life to the dead soil, starving themselves from the lack of crops, yet their eyes could not close in the dark nights. Instead of sleeping through the night, they instead watched outside their little windows, watching towards the wall that separated their village in two. They wondered how life was on the other side, what kind of dreams they were missing on, what joy they could be experiencing. The curiosity grew, and one night they all peeked over the mud wall, wondering how their forgotten neighbors lived.
But they did not find any joy or any peace once they saw the other side of the village, the one they had cut off from their lives due to their envy. They only found the dozens of yellow smiles shining in the darkness, their wide grins meeting the eye of every unhappy that had dared look on the other side. Those grins watched, gleaming in the night with a light so sinister even Rhysol would have feared. There was no joy or happiness in their eyes, as they had no eyes. They were gouged, removed by their own fingers as instead they seemed possessed with a strange kind of need. Before even a gasp escaped the unhappy, the grinning villagers began climbing the mud walls, their intentions as dark as the night itself. In a matter of weeks, the village had turned from a united community that only wished peace to a split village that lusted for blood. The unhappy quickly retreated to their homes, taking their tools and defending their humble houses and their hungry families. They did not surrender even after all the difficulties in life.
And so they fought the unhappy driving off the yellow grins of their previous neighbors with their rusty tools. The more they fought those supposedly happy, the more they realized their smile was nothing but a lie – they suffered, perhaps even more than them. The fight was brutal and gruesome, full of tears by the unhappy and terrifying cackles by the smiling. So intense it was, in fact, that once it was all over, the village itself crumbled itself over the bodies. All the mud houses, the mud walls, and the mud beds collapsed and buried every man, woman and child that had died in that now cursed place. Only a handful survived, a handful of those unhappy that were now homeless and in grief. Their whole life had crumbled to the ground, all because a few saw bread and water and immediately surrendered. Those five survivors gathered in a group and hugged, kissing each other farewell for they would all take different directions. It was only then, while the tears of grief and pain fell down their cheeks, that they found joy – for true happiness was family. And so they parted ways, forever forgetting where their village once laid, for they would never return.
You see, brothers, that this tale holds a lesson for us all. We may be the ones in chains, and the ones in pain. We may bear infinite scars in our bodies, and we may never find our way home. We are the unhappy, but we are also the ones who can truly feel happiness. Do not be fooled by our masters, whom grin and smile as they raise their head. They are in pain, and once the night falls, it will be us the ones to stand last. Remember than a true tear is a bigger sign of happiness than a fake smile will ever be.
So keep working, and keep being unhappy, for once the man bearing gifts arrives, we’ll know we have our family chained to us and that his gift is nothing but a lie."
Let me tell you the story, brothers and sisters in chains, of what could very well be the origin of Kenash itself. You see, Kenash was not always a large city as it is today. There weren’t always fields for us to work on, nor there were whips cracking behind us. This tale, dear family of mine, is long before these walls were raised. Perhaps we can learn something out of it, or ponder about it for days, or we can simply use it to pass the times now that the sun above our heads scorches our flesh. Listen , workers and servants, for this may perhaps explain to you how our masters were born.
There speaks a tale, perhaps as ancient as this very swamp that is based around a small village. Perhaps that village was Kenash in its surely humble origins, or perhaps it is a place that no longer exists due to the story I’m about to tell you. The thing is, everyone within that place lived a simple life. There were no chains back then, or at least not wrapped around people. It was a modest place kept alive by the hard work of each and every individual that lived between them. There was no beauty nor there any refinement, for both the houses and the streets were made of mud. The townsfolk dressed simply, most of the times wrapped in rags like us, and they reeked perhaps even worse than us! They worked really hard, day after day praying to the Gods for rain to fall, for crops to grow, for hunger to subside. Many died waiting for an answer, as food was scarce and the harvests were poor. Despite all the suffering, they never turned their backs on each other, and decided to remain together forever no matter how hard life was. Children wept as their stomachs growled, mothers abandoned their newborns in the plains for they could not feed them, and fathers came home to curl in their beds and hope for a miracle.
This one day, however, that miracle came through the doors of the village. A man, as handsome as the stars, as wise as the earth itself presented himself in the middle of the night when the inhabitants woke. This man, you see, was someone special. Unlike them, he had something they had never known. It wasn’t flour, nor was it water. It was a smile! A smile, indeed, was the only thing the village had never known, for it represented a sentiment unbeknownst to the townsfolk. Shocked by that simple gesture, they stared for two days straight. It was in the third night that one of the farmers approached the man, falling to his knees and begging and weeping to the man to teach him how to do that, how to smile and how to take all the pain away. The man, smiling still, kneeled before the man and whispered in his ear. And just like that, the farmer smiled with his yellow teeth, and was forever happy. The stranger left, but the farmer never lost his smile.
Nobody knew what the man had whispered to him, and he did not share the secret to happiness. When he worked, he smiled. When his family starved, he smiled. Nobody knew, indeed, what the secret of happiness was. That was until the mysterious stranger returned three nights later, bearing a basket full of bread and a bucket full of water. The townsfolk had never seen food in such abundance, immediately falling to their knees and begging to the man, to which he fed them and satiated their thirst. A few of the villagers approached him, and asked him for the secret. They too were blessed with smiles by the time the mysterious man, and they too were quiet as to what the secret was. Nobody spoke and nobody shared that secret, being forever between them and the traveling man.
The town slowly began splitting in two, one half being the one bearing smiles, and the other bearing pain. It was obvious that the secret of the smile would not be revealed until they too pleaded to the mysterious man, and the sad souls of those humble people knew it. But the problems only grew, you see, as one day a man was found dead. It was one of the unhappy ones, one of those who knew not how to smile. Tortured beyond imagination, nobody but those unhappy souls seemed to care, as those who smiled did not lose their wide grins. Each day the stranger returned, more of the unhappy joined the happy, and more victims appeared. The distrust grew within the humble village - eventually splitting the town in two by building a wall in the middle. The unhappy, whom were still the majority, began feeling threatened by those smiles, and their fear increased as the tortured bodies of their unhappy neighbors kept appearing in the mud. After a dozen bodies found, the unhappy no longer allowed the mysterious man near their town – they threw mud at him, hoping to dissuade him from ever coming again. Before leaving their lives forever, the man returned one last time, this time bringing a small item with him. Nobody knew what the item was, and it was tossed somewhere in the mud to never be found again. The man said the item would be the curse of the unhappy, swearing that they would never find joy in life and that there would be no happiness for them for all eternity.
So disturbed they were by this curse that befell on them, the unhappy were not able to sleep no matter how tired they were. They worked hard, trying to bring life to the dead soil, starving themselves from the lack of crops, yet their eyes could not close in the dark nights. Instead of sleeping through the night, they instead watched outside their little windows, watching towards the wall that separated their village in two. They wondered how life was on the other side, what kind of dreams they were missing on, what joy they could be experiencing. The curiosity grew, and one night they all peeked over the mud wall, wondering how their forgotten neighbors lived.
But they did not find any joy or any peace once they saw the other side of the village, the one they had cut off from their lives due to their envy. They only found the dozens of yellow smiles shining in the darkness, their wide grins meeting the eye of every unhappy that had dared look on the other side. Those grins watched, gleaming in the night with a light so sinister even Rhysol would have feared. There was no joy or happiness in their eyes, as they had no eyes. They were gouged, removed by their own fingers as instead they seemed possessed with a strange kind of need. Before even a gasp escaped the unhappy, the grinning villagers began climbing the mud walls, their intentions as dark as the night itself. In a matter of weeks, the village had turned from a united community that only wished peace to a split village that lusted for blood. The unhappy quickly retreated to their homes, taking their tools and defending their humble houses and their hungry families. They did not surrender even after all the difficulties in life.
And so they fought the unhappy driving off the yellow grins of their previous neighbors with their rusty tools. The more they fought those supposedly happy, the more they realized their smile was nothing but a lie – they suffered, perhaps even more than them. The fight was brutal and gruesome, full of tears by the unhappy and terrifying cackles by the smiling. So intense it was, in fact, that once it was all over, the village itself crumbled itself over the bodies. All the mud houses, the mud walls, and the mud beds collapsed and buried every man, woman and child that had died in that now cursed place. Only a handful survived, a handful of those unhappy that were now homeless and in grief. Their whole life had crumbled to the ground, all because a few saw bread and water and immediately surrendered. Those five survivors gathered in a group and hugged, kissing each other farewell for they would all take different directions. It was only then, while the tears of grief and pain fell down their cheeks, that they found joy – for true happiness was family. And so they parted ways, forever forgetting where their village once laid, for they would never return.
You see, brothers, that this tale holds a lesson for us all. We may be the ones in chains, and the ones in pain. We may bear infinite scars in our bodies, and we may never find our way home. We are the unhappy, but we are also the ones who can truly feel happiness. Do not be fooled by our masters, whom grin and smile as they raise their head. They are in pain, and once the night falls, it will be us the ones to stand last. Remember than a true tear is a bigger sign of happiness than a fake smile will ever be.
So keep working, and keep being unhappy, for once the man bearing gifts arrives, we’ll know we have our family chained to us and that his gift is nothing but a lie."
-Kenashian Folk Tale.
And I will be prioritizing the quest I am currently involved in! So, sorry everyone!
