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Alan Stemworth Technical Engineering

58 Constitution St

Wallingford, CT 6492-3825

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There was once a baby. A newborn baby, that is. But this baby wasn't normal. He was very strong. Like the universe gave him a special power. He was born, though, to some powerful gods. As he grew up, he got stronger and stronger. Then he left a note that he had a quest for him. He was a new adult at the time, so he wasn't super responsible. He went on a long and hard quest, but because he was so strong nothing could stop him, or though he thought. It all seemed normal in the beginning, birds chirping, leaves swaying, until there was a man that attacked him. He used very skillful moves he had never seen before. He defeated him easily, but if he was an ordinary man he would have been outdone. He used them along the way if things like tigers and other vicious creatures came in his way. The animals were so surprised, they fled back to their dens and knew this man was very powerful. Another stop was a lady that was practicing medicine. He hid in the bushes and watched. The woman was using a mixing bowl and a long, thick rock to mash together the herbs she gathered. She was talking to herself about all of the plants. There was watermint, coltsfoot, marigold, chervil, and much much more stuffed in the back of his head. He remembered watermint is for bellyache, chervil is for infected wounds, and coltsfoot to ease hard breathing. He wondered if she was in a tribe, or some sort of place where she needed to heal many people. He knew he wouldn't use it much, but it was useful he guessed. He liked learning all these things in secret. Before he left to go on his quest, he searched for some of the herbs for if he needed to heal anything along the way. Along a trail in the forest, he saw a baby bird that had fallen from its nest. The bird was crying out to his mama, that wasn't there at the moment. The bird's leg looked fractured, so he took a small stick and some leaves and wrapped the leg into a kind of cast. He then lifted the bird back into the nest, waited, and finally saw the mom come back. He felt proud that he saved a little bird's life that day. He has had some other encounters with healers along the way. They taught him very interesting things that he could never learn at any other medicine school. The most important thing he learned was that you have to comfort your patient, and help it through the way. As he was approaching a big tree, there was an old man. The old man was sitting on the big tree. This man called it the tree of wisdom. The guy asked him how the wisdom came. The old man told him the tree doesn't give off wisdom, it gets wisdom from others. The old man asked him if he had gained wisdom. The guy thought, then remembered a couple things he saw on his quest. The guy told the man a guy attacked him. He had skillful and useful moves, so he used them on other attackers. He was successful and showed them who's boss. Then he saw a woman practicing medicine, and knew some simple useful things if anyone was hurt. He helped a baby bird with a broken leg. He learned that he needed to comfort the patient and be gentle with them. The old man just smiled and said,?That is what true wisdom is. People who come to me and say,'I went to school and got an education' but that is not really wisdom. Wisdom is when you learn from mistakes, and from other people. You are capable of sharing and learning wisdom everyday, my son. I will give you this spear of wisdom.? The spear emerged from the wisdom tree, and the old man handed it to him. The old man continued?It is your time to show people the real meaning of wisdom. You shall respect the people, and you may even learn from them, too.? The guy felt important. He felt he could use the world as his own, so that is what he was destined to do. He kept his mighty spear of wisdom and went along everyday. He watched over his people and hoped to teach some of them. He fought battles against people from the underworld, and protected his people. He visited the wisdom tree often, where the old man would sit everyday.  He thought about the old man everyday, and how much wisdom he taught from those words he said to him. These specific words he treasured the most,?You are capable of sharing and learning wisdom everyday, my son.? Everyone was able to learn and show wisdom, and that's what he taught his people. He will watch over them everyday and feel the sense of pride that very day he met the old man. When the old man had passed, he knew he must take the power and sit where the old man sat. He watched over the people like his children everyday. He knew that there was one person, however, who watched over him. The person that led him to this life he would have never imagined for himself. The life that took him here to sit at the wisdom tree, and gain more knowledge everyday. He also taught people wisdom. He held his mighty spear closer to him. He saw many people of wisdom, and many people not. People not of wisdom he would politely send away to try and come again. One of those people came back strong and wise. He let that person have a life like him. He was a god like him now, protecting his kingdom from harsh threats. Then for the other people of wisdom, he thought some of them would be just great rulers. Some of them did become rulers, while others stayed their lives just comfortable with all their wise self. He knew he would watch over all of them until he died and relived the cycle again. Zeus would watch over them everyday.

 

Her garlanded body glided along the waves, receiving soft nudges here and there from the pull of the tide. It was quiet, but then again it normally was. The water was cold and the night air was chilly, but she had befriended the numbness a long time ago. The water tickled her head, uncoiling her hair into sea serpents that lurked about her in the velvety sea. Bunches of daisies and pansies clung to the lace of her gown, the petals gently flitting in the breeze as she bobbed up and down whilst frothy hands tried to take her for their own.

She had given herself to the sea over 700 years ago. She had given herself. The sea could not claim her, so the frothy hands dissolved for the time being, but she knew they would come back, they always did.

Her marble white skin looked as smooth as a Grecian statue under the moonlight. As she lay there, silently basking in it, she noticed something. It was very subtle, but she could sense it nevertheless. Almost as if it had crept out of the back door so as to go unnoticed, the quietness had left. Slowly, the waves picked up to a roar and the wind began to howl. The deafening sounds crashed against her eardrums and almost overpowered everything else, but then she heard it. She could hear in the distance the faintest noise that no matter how loud the sea became, would not be drowned out. She recognised it instantly. It was the land calling her back. It was barely noticeable at first, but it gradually grew louder until it rang sharply in her ears. For centuries she had listened for it, but the land had always remained stubbornly silent, bitter at her for leaving. She knew now that the frothy hands could never reach her again. A whisper of a smile crossed her face. It was time to go home.

The sea pulled her closer and closer to the shore, growing more violent with each tug. It began yanking her hair and stinging her eyes, poking them with salty fingers. She was twisted and jerked, and just when the pain had reached its peak, all at once, it came to a halt. The ocean had stopped resisting and let her go. She rolled onto the land and lay there, cradled by the rough and worn arms of the coast like a child, feeling a pang of regret. A salty tear rolled down her cheek as she stared at the watery expanse, bidding farewell to her friend of seven centuries. Parting is indeed such sweet sorrow.

She expected herself to stumble like a new born deer, but to her surprise she stood up without any trouble. She swept her glossy hair from her face and took one last look at the sight she would never see again before turning her back on it forever.

She looked at herself for the first time in years and noticed that her slender pink fingers were clutching a bunch of blue columbines. She stared at the delicate, two toned flower heads for a while, trying to remember why she was holding them in the first place, but she couldn't conjure even the faintest memory. In fact, she couldn't remember anything about herself at all. She knew that she had given herself to the sea all those years ago, but as to her name or her identity, she had no clue. This was why the land must have called her.

Unlike the silky arms of the sea that she was used to, the coarse earth scratched her bare feet, but with every step she took, the more it became like she was walking with an old friend. She examined her surroundings and could recognise nothing - although that was expected, having been away for such a long time. She gazed at the colourful buildings of all shapes and sizes towering over her in place of the cobblestone streets she once knew. Despite the unfamiliarity, something inside of her reassured her that this was where she belonged and where all the answers lay.

Leaving a trail of petals and droplets behind her, she sauntered her way down the track, using the kicks and caresses of her faded memories to guide her. As she did so, it became apparent that it was not only the town that had changed, but life itself. Where there should have been market stalls and horse drawn carriages, stood empty lanes studded with metal machines. Maybe they were some sort of plough? But there were no fields as far as she could see. And the people! Almost everyone was walking around with bare arms and legs, both men and women! Not to mention the lack of wigs and adornments. Possibly this was a poorer area lacking etiquette and education? There seemed to be a slight similarity to the language she knew, but she could barely grasp any of what passers-by were saying. Maybe they spoke in a different dialect. However, with all the judgements she silently passed on to the strangers around her, it soon became clear that she was the foreigner, adventuring alone on a land that she could no longer call her own. With each step she took being no clearer than the last, a tinge of sadness shadowed her features as she began to droop like the bunch of flowers in her hand.

After a few minutes, she stopped to rest at a fountain, setting the flowers down next to her. Staring at her rippling reflection below, she knew that she was close to finding out her identity; just being in this place had brought her that much closer. It was within her reach, but she needed a memory, even just a short one to tear away the veil behind which it lay. But just as she set to thinking, the sound of laughter brought her back to the present, and she saw a child who was no more than six, excitedly grab the daisies that had fallen from her dress off the floor. The girl eagerly showed her mother and seemed to be asking her something before her eyes lit up, seeing the columbines on the side of the fountain. The girl clearly wanted them.

?You can take th-?

Before she could finish, the child grabbed and thrust them towards her mother, pleading with her for something. The mother seemed hesitant at first, but presumably gave in to whatever the girl asked for as she smiled and nodded. Then the two, hand in hand, walked away. Neither of them had looked at her sitting across from them. They mustn't have heard her - or more likely, didn't understand her.

There was something about these people that spiked her attention, so she quickly rose and followed them. They were swinging their hands to and fro in a playful manner. The child was completely absorbed in the beauty of the flowers she'd found and the mother seemed content, but lost in her thoughts as she lead the way. Mother and daughter. She tried to imagine herself that young, holding hands with her own mother, but no picture came to mind.

The pair eventually veered off the straight path and approached what seemed like a tavern. She followed them, but kept at a distance to make sure she didn't draw any attention to herself. They waited outside for a while until a man came out and scooped the young girl into his arms, throwing her in the air, evoking squeals of laughter. He then put one arm around the mother and the trio began walking again. The father had arrived.

She stared at the group, especially drawn to the father as he acted amazed at the flowers his daughter was proudly showing him. The mother began tickling the little girl before the two burst out into laughter. The father chuckled softly along with them. There was something about?

?his laugh. It was his laugh that brought it back. Her father's laugh. It was as though an ink pot had been spilled and her mind, previously a blank slate, was now filled with the colour of her early memories. Tears welled in her eyes as traces of her childhood weaved themselves in and out of her mind. Her father's laugh had been the clearest memory. He didn't laugh often, but when he did, it had always been with her. She realised now why she had remembered nothing all that time she'd been observing the mother. She could not remember someone she never knew. Her father had raised her, and although he was a stern man at the best of times and often consumed by his work, he had loved her. She looked at the little girl who was now propped on her father's shoulders and smiled. The memories were returning.

The family were now approaching a cemetery, and a strong feeling spiked through her as she followed, nearing the gates. The feeling was so strong it almost knocked her off her feet, but she persisted. Was it here she would find out everything? The memories came quicker and sharper now in gushes rather than trickling streams. She remembered a loving brother, fierce and strong-willed, but not his name, or hers for that matter. Her hands tingled as she let them fall and slide along the tombstones as she walked past, still following closely behind the family. The deeper she went into the cemetery, the more overwhelmed she became. Her face darkened as a string of bad memories reared their ugly heads. It came in a flood; her father's political plots and intrigue, him using her a dispensable pawn, his murder, an anguished lover and a torn kingdom.

Every step added to the momentum inside of her, until she was almost being dragged. Through blurred vision she could still see the family in front of her. Her heart thundered in her chest making her tremble, only growing louder as she continued. The family finally came to a stop, standing silently before an ancient tombstone where the little girl lay down her flowers.

Her body was shaking so vigorously at this point that she fell to the ground behind them, quivering. The family stayed there until the girl had finished rearranging the flowers, and then turned to leave, ignoring her as they passed. She was so overwhelmed that no cries for help could escape from her lips, but as she caught a glimpse of the name inscribed on the tombstone, everything suddenly stopped. It was like the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders.

With that one name, she remembered it all. Her identity, her life and, her death. Exhausted, she lay on the ground, staring up at the star spangled sky. A droplet of sweat trickled down her head as she regained her breath, smiling now that it was all over. This was her destiny, what she had come for, and now she could be at peace, because she finally found out the one piece of information needed to bring it all back. She breathed out one last breath as the name lingered on her lips.

?Ophelia.?