The story began many years ago, in the vast reaches of the Holy Land. My father, like so many before him, was a hunter and our family was nomadic, going where the game was abundant. My mother was a avid story-teller and I have always looked forward to listening to her stories before sleep. My father would playfully scoff at her, saying that she 'didn't have to fool the little ones'.
When I was little, I did not know much of the land, only from what my father has taught me. From him, I learned how to track animals, recognising what animals made what tracks, basing on the type of markings they made. We took only what we need, always giving thanks to the patron god for allowing us to take from him in order to survive.
We didn't have large cities and towns like now, but our community of hunters were tightly knitted and we often helped each other to times of need. Winter was approaching and my mother and sister spent time curing hide into leather and my father and I hunted wooly mammoths with other hunters. Our spears bounced off the tough hide of the mammoths, but eventually, we brought it down.
Life was simple back then, and without knowing it, I grew into a youth. I still spend a lot of time with my father, who although was getting old, still participated in the hunting of our tribe. Our nomadic travels eventually settled down with a group of people who lived off the land. They grew crops like corn and wheat in the ground. It was an unfamiliar practice to my family, but these strangers welcomed us like we were family, and so we stayed with them, bringing meat and hide back. The strangers had a beautiful daughter. She had pale skin unlike us and dark hair reaching beyond her waist. Her beauty was akin to the mysterious lights in the night sky, winking and shining down at us.
My mother told me they were probably cave people, unlike us hunters. I expressed to her my interest in the albino cave girl and she laughed, saying it was too early for me to speak about love. What is love, I asked my mother, but she remained silent, but her eyes twinkled like the stars high above our heads.
The next few winters I spent travelling further away from the cave family, in search of dwindling game. We wouldn't be able to stay in this area for long if we kept hunting. My father, by now a old silhouette in the dim light, told me that our life have changed and we are now farmers instead of hunters. He gestured to the crops that has sprang to life after winter has passed. Smiling shrewdly, he added that it was probably time for me to court the cave girl, whose name I found out was Laria.
Those days of courtship were the last I spent with my father. He taught me how to hunt, how to track animals and on the courting rituals of his father and those before him. Armed with knowledge, I summoned my courage to ask for her hand. In those days, we didn't have much customs and hurdles. Laria was apparently already awed by my impressive hunting prowress, from hunting the great wooly mammoths to the fearsome saber tooth cat. We spent our time with each other under the great starry sky. I remember the moon's light was so much clearer than now.
My father passed away when I was away from the homestead. My mother told me that I was special, that I was different from her and my father. My relationship with Laria was tight knit now, and she held my head in her lap as I came to terms with what happened with my father.
We would hold hands and look into each other's eyes without saying anything. As I recall now, that was probably my only experience getting close to a person. We spent time with each other, our relationship growing deeper and more loving. Laria's family wanted me to be part of their family and under a starry sky, I took Laria as my wife.
Our lives were harsh and we lived hand to mouth, but I was never happier than I was before. Laria borne me a daughter, whose hair was as dark as her mother. The elders were ecstatic. 7 newborns were gifted to us that year. I never got to name my newborn. The next day, the idyllic life I knew was lost forever.
The sky was burning. None of the tribesmen knew what was happening. Our shaman was mourning on the actions of our sins, that we have killed too many Great Mammoths to earn this retribution. The sky vomited great fiery balls of lava. Those touched by the balls died instantly, without sound. Some, were not so fortunate. The screams of those who did not die immediately still remains with me today.
That one day, I learnt a new emotion. I was out hunting with the other men when the skies darkened and fiery balls of molten lava flung down from the sky. With increasingly urgency, we fled for our homes, to our families. There, in a pile of burning ashes, I found Laria, huddled over our baby. Before I could even speak her name, a ball of burning fire smote her, as well as our baby. The intensity of the flames were so harsh that I was flung back as more balls peppered our fuel supply, a collection of mammoth fat.
I remembered thinking that no amount of help was going to get me through this. As the sky continued to vomit fire, I saw a long object breach the sky. A long, dark shape and it was the source of the fire. A long keening wail came out of me, unimpeded. In a heartbeat, all was lost to me. My beautiful wife and newborn daughter. The new emotion was utter despair. I lost myself that day.
