A fairy tale - Part 1

...

And thus it came to pass that the evil queen, her power lost and ousted, fled the monastery and seeken the wild men of the north to take refuge; far away.

If you think you are going to read a fairy tale here, you may as well go elsewhere, for what I am going to relate is not a fairly tale with princess and dragons and charming prince.

But rather, I am going to relate history in its rightful form, without the author's imaginative intervention, as history is ought to be told. It begins thus...

It was raining. A young lad of 15; once he was happy, but that he cannot remember. He could only concentrate on the rain and the horse, the freshly dug grave, his dead master. The earth was soft; the spade made it a quick job; but the dead body was heavy. The boy half tug and half lifted the cold body; the body lifeless and limpid, followed his squire's motion until the it felt the embrace of the earth; cold and unforgiving.

The boy shivered in the chill; it was raining softly. He didn't feel sad but he felt utterly alone. He could not cry; he would not cry; something was stuck in his throat that prevents him from crying; maybe the pang that he was the reason his master is dead. The dim light of the crescent moon was enough for this young lad to pack up the things. He made some quiet prayers for his master. And without any remorse, he rode; to where, he does now know, but he rode.


A few hours later, he came back. To where his master lies. From the horse, he unmounted, and kneeled beside the grave; he could not leave; not just then.

The night was too young to leave the dead.

( History as it is; the author shall try to represent facts in an exact manner as is possible. An update each day is expected from the author, but he gave no promise )