I didnt have my memories flowing through my head when I woke up. Did I wake up? Im here now or am I. Im playing tricks. Someone is coming, I know this person well. Its my mother. I dont say anything as she comes into the hut, a simple head nod is enough. Speech, I am here withought it just as you are here with it, even though your not using it. Why? Why not use something you have. I look at mother, shes sat on the pelt of our last dinner, seems comfortable but her face says otherwise.
Yelling, a common noise heard within the tribe the only complication is the queshtion of is the yelling of fright or celebration. I walk outside only to see father celebrating his 72th kill. Great, im a murderers daughter, we dont even need all of this, its summer. I crouch and quietly crawl away from the sence hoping to escape a noise I cant join, only to be- A quick tap, and a gerk. Its father, I don't look him in the eye. Annoyed he shoves me and walks away mumbling to himself, most likely about me. Thats fine, I didnt need a greeting from him anyway. I continue to the riverbed where all I hear is everything, everything but humans.
I can hear something, a rustle in some flowers. A safe distance away. Making my way to camp is recomended by my thought but my soul carries me closer to the unknown. I look, touching, feeling every petal and to my hearts discouragement, I find nothing but a small fish, fresh out of water. Not fair, my life is nothing but hopeless discoveries and disappointment to my parents and tribe. I grab the fish and head back in hopes this fish will bring me luck with my parents.
As I encounter the tribes warning to other tribes I decide to take a quick look at the fish. Another look and thats what it took, a fish of such beauty, this prince of the riverbed shant be harmed by claws of such horrid monsters. I turn around only to be stopped by a tribes men. Mocking me, "look what the mutes got" he speaks of the beauty I hold. I give him a glare in hopes he backs off. He doesnt, in fact he instead trips me and rips the light right out of my eyes taking my prize with him. I can hear his yelling to my father about the "fish" as I ly here. A fish.. was that really all it was and not the prince of the riverbed, just a.. Sleep is the only thing to cure this confusion and here where I lost my prince will hold me till woken.
YOU ARE READING
Snails Journey
Historical FictionA girl with no words holds a life with enough stories to replace it. She must decide if she hates her family enough to abandon it for adventures or if she will miss them enough to leave completely.
