Tales from the Glory Man #1

(A work in progress)

This story is about a family. A father, mother, and three children.  Now father and mother, before they were father and mother, were simple jíbaros in a simple land. But ghosts of earth and blood tormented them and so they fled from their homes to a distant land.  It is in this distant land that they met and became father and mother. They did not know much about this new land but thought that it could become a home to their children and that perhaps, just perhaps, they might prosper. Ah, but ghosts are not easy to escape, and father and mother were not blessed with good fortune. So it didn’t matter how far they fled because the ghosts followed, guided by the one thing they could not avoid leaving in a trail behind them: hope. It gets stored up in the body, see, from a life spent scratching at the earth and reaping what it returns. But a hard life can also take it, and from them it spilled like blood from an open wound.

And that is the thing, see, you don’t put this much effort into escaping if you aren’t carrying some deep wounds. Father and mother were deeply wounded people, the hope nearly draining completely from them. What they did have left they stored desperately for their children. They would continue to scratch away in this new land, storing up whatever hope they could and give it to their children as an inheritance. Of course, such simple dreams amused the ghosts and they taunted father and mother, telling them their plans for their children. “What shall we do with your first born?” They taunted, “Shall we mark our names upon its skin so that it will never belong in this new land?” Father and mother pleaded for mercy, but they continued, “And the second child? Shall we seal its mind away from the ancients so that it will always be confused by why this land does not feel like home?” Father and mother again pleaded for mercy, but they continued, “Oh, and your youngest child. Shall we seal its heart away from the ancients so that it will always be a stranger to you?” Then father and mother’s terror turned to anger, and they threatened the ghosts, but all that did was make them laugh even more. “Who can help you here?” they teased. “No one in this land can help you. They don’t know us. They can’t see us. They can’t speak to us. And this hope that you store will be useless to your children. You are alone here.” And father and mother wept. They wept and then they decided. While the ghosts congratulated themselves, they decided…