Barely one day ago, early morning -- at the same rundown village, but with the villagers still walking about with their lives intact, going through their days in motion;
A little girl was minding her own business, with a dazed look in her deep-hooded dark eyes. She was leaning her small frame, against the only well in the village. The water inside the well was filthy and murky. However, it was the only water source readily accessible for everyone that had made the village their home.
The little girl was no older than five, and she was small, even for children her age. Not that other slightly older children in the village looked any healthier, what with limited living resources they had hardly been blessed with.
However, it did not stop the other children to bully her and constantly steal her rations. Although sense-wise, they should know better than to pick on someone weaker, they had never been concerned with dignity, nobility, nor heroism. Those sugary traits only belonged to the riches, the educated, the powerful. None that the children or the other villagers ever were.
The sole reason for their bullying was that the little girl always had a blank dazed look on her expression. And she never fought back against their taunting, making her an easy target to steal what-little-food-she-had from, or just for them to throw their weight around.
That day, the little girl hid behind the stone well, after her little frame was kicked about and her body spat by the older children.
As always, she took all the beating, before finding a quiet place to hopefully ease her pain and daydream again.
Daydream.
For as long as she could remember, she did not have anyone she could call father, mother, or any other people who might care for her. It was always her alone, sustaining her life by taking advantage of whatever kindness and food the other villagers would show and give to her. Most of the time though, she ate dirt and worms to fill her belly, and stole the dirty well water to ease her thirst. Whenever it rained, it was a luxury and she would drink until she was bloated.
She would try to save the rainwater in whatever receptacles she could find, but they always got stolen by others.
In this god-forsaken village, it was every man, woman, or child, for themselves. The weak would die, and she was weak. It was a wonder that she was still breathing, sometimes she thought she was only living on borrowed life. Still, she lived.
Nevertheless, her dreams were always happy, warm, bittersweet, and most importantly, it had been gnawing at her as of late.
The dreams were always segmented into two lifetimes. In both lifetimes, she had people she could call family.
In the dream, she was healthy, beautiful, loved.
Loved so tenderly, so warmly, selflessly, and so passionately, by one person.
He was the best-looking person she had ever laid eyes upon, and he had the most beautiful voice, especially when he called her name.
The little girl did not have a name.
The perfect man inside her dream would always protect her, waited patiently for her to smile at him, for her to love him back.
The little girl did not know the man, but at the same time, she knew him.
Then at some point of the flowing time in her dream, she left him.
The little girl wanted to scream at herself -- the her inside her dream -- to not leave the man. How could she bear to leave him? Someone who loved her more than he loved himself?
YOU ARE READING
Remembering You For Eternity
Historical Fiction[[Book 2 (FINAL book) of "One Lifetime is Never Enough"]] "I would have waited for you forever." The lament of a faraway voice that she had missed - that she had been longing to answer to - echoed in her mind. "But, you are no longer here." The des...
