TheDreamyOne (thedreamyone) wrote in wb_fiction_100,
TheDreamyOne
thedreamyone
wb_fiction_100

Hi everyone!  I'm posting this for Indie since LJ is a pain for her.  Enjoy!  It's absolutely fabulous!  --Shel

Author: Indie

Rating: T

 

The Reverie

(F-100 # 001)

 

In the beginning there was nothing.

Prince Ardeth was only starting to realize the meaning of the words.

 

In the beginning there was nothing.

They were opening words of a song in his favorite bedtime story.

 

He opened his eyes.

Darkness.

Total blackness.

 

He pulled up his legs and wrapped his arms around them.

He laid his head on his knees and closed his eyes.

 

In the beginning there was nothing.

What was the next verse?

Strange that he could not remember them at that moment.

 

He did not know how long he had been in this dark room.

Loneliness.

He remembered the smell blood in his fingers.

Sorrow.

He had seen the light of life faded from his mother’s eyes.

Anger.

He had watched the enemies took his father away.

Vengeance.

He had dried up all his tears and his fears died away along with them.

Freedom.

 

In the beginning there was nothing.

Ardeth opened his eyes as the next verses came back to his mind.

 

Then there was hope.

And there was love.

And they are sisters.

As despair and hate are brothers.

And hope and love and despair and hate live in a beating heart.

 

He saw light at the end of the room. The door was being opened and a silhouette of a person appeared.

 

… Then there was hope. ..

 

A woman’s voice told him to calm down and to be quiet.

 

The woman talked to the prison guard. She lifted Ardeth and carried him out of the dark cell.

 

“He is my son, he is not the Prince. You have taken the wrong child.”

 

… Then there was love … and loyalty…

 

“Very well, he shall work at the mines to earn his food. No work, no food.” The guard barked.

 

“But... he’s only 6 years old… please…”

 

“No work, no food!” The guard shoved the female slave to walk faster.

 

When the guard finally left, the female slave smiled at him and whispered.

 

“Do not be afraid, Your Highness. Everyone here will protect you. You do not need to work, we will divide the food among us. You will not be left in hunger. However, we cannot call you by your own name. From now on, we will call you… Indie …”

 

The royal boy nodded.

 

… As despair and hate are brothers …

 

Indie, maybe small, yet he had a big dream. From that moment on, the heir of the throne let his hands dirty, working like other slaves. He worked to build his hopes and hates up as high as his one dream. It was a dream to free his people and lead them out of this messed up place; a dream to avenge the death of his parents; a dream to drive the oppressor off his kingdom.

 

Indie put down his gadgets and looked at his blistering palms. He loved the pain and the smell of his blood. They kept reminding him of his true purpose: To make his dream come true… the dream of freedom.

 

The little boy sang a new song before he went to sleep at night, a new song that would keep him warm in his dark cold cell. And it echoed in the hearts of others…

 

In the beginning there had been nothing.

Now, there was purpose.

Now, there was ambition.

Now, there was hope for freedom.

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