The Stranger’s Voice That Broke a Soul

Into a far city in the desert, a man wandered. The streets were busy with passers-by, and the streets smelled exotic with the products of the merchants’ stalls, which gleamed with sapphires, rubies, and emeralds. Yet none of this interested the wanderer at all.

He came to a bench and sat down to relax after a long, tiring journey. He leaned back and listened to the overwhelming noise, yet the man admired the sounds of the vibrant market district. He was clothed in a dark brown robe with a hood shading his mysteriously smiling face. He carried a long staff, and he wore no shoes, just ragged grey pants and a dirty, torn, short sleeved shirt. He sat there, not moving an inch from his spot on the bench.

A small, dirty boy walked cautiously towards him, hoping to loot the man, yet with shocking speed the stranger grabbed the boy with such strength that the child was at his mercy. Then the man with a gentle, caring smile with his other hand took from his robe the freshest apple and put it gently into the boy’s hand. He then looked at the boy carefully, noticing his black hair and brown eyes. Relaxing his grip, the man winked at the boy, who, surprised by both the apple and the wink, smiled joyfully as the man shooed him away. Then the stranger smiled, stood up, and began a journey around the city.

Entering an ordinary bar, he found a rough stool to sit on and asked for a glass of milk and a refill of water for his empty flask. The bartender filled his request, gave him his milk, and took his flask to refill it with water. The man drank slowly, enjoying the creamy cold taste of the milk.

With a blast of noise a group of rich noblemen barged into the bar as if they owned it, chatting wildly and destroying the calm rhythm of the scene. Noisily, they all sat down at a table, but it wasn’t just them. Their number included slaves—women, men, and children. The hooded man finished his milk and waited patiently for his water. Another young bartender, probably the bartender’s apprentice or son, asked what the noblemen wanted. They all ordered exquisite dishes and goblets of wine for themselves but scraps of food and a communal bowl of water for their slaves.

The young waiter nodded and went to fetch their orders. As the noblemen waited, they played with their toys. Two made the starving children fight over a piece of bread; two others used the adult male slaves as leg rests as they waited lazily for their meals. Another touched and abused a poor woman, his slave of pleasure.

The customers in the bar ignored the inhumane behaviour. They knew it was wrong, but they knew it was a lost cause, not worth objecting to. The hooded man turned around to watch the group ill-treat their slaves. He looked at them sadly, and then the young bartender arrived with the dishes of food for the noblemen and the scraps for the slaves. The rich men shooed the children away and ate the bread that they had fought over for the nobles’ brief entertainment. Two others kicked the slaves away as if kicking furniture. Then the last nobleman callously pushed the woman to the ground, and she scuttled toward the rest of the women and servants.

The noblemen ate greedily, swallowing their food without savouring its taste, just shoving it all down into their stomachs as they washed it down with the goblets of wine. The slaves just looked away and focused on their small portions of food and bowls of water. The children ate and savoured the food, knowing that their next meal could be the next day.

One of the children, a small little girl, finished her meal and cautiously approached her owner. With plate held high, she said in a soft and weak voice, “Will you spare me a bite of your meal?”

The owner looked down at her. Then his hand smacked the plate out of her hands, and he grabbed her by the cheeks. Smiling evilly and showing dirty remains of food on his teeth, he commanded, “Open your mouth.” Spittle and pieces of food landed on the child’s face, as she obeyed. The nobleman bit off a large chunk, chewed, and then spat it into her mouth. The people in the bar looked away disgusted. The girl closed her mouth and chewed the food that her master had spat. Then he flung her away and she hit the floor. She stayed there, unmoving on the ground, as tears streamed silently from her innocent eyes.

The stranger saw what had happened and quietly asked the young bartender if he had more milk and a sweet delicacy. The young man nodded and provided both. The hooded man took the milk and the treat to the girl, placing them gently on the ground. Then he held out his palm close to the girl’s mouth so that she could spit the mouthful out. In tears, she shook her head.

The lord sniggered and chewed: “Smart little pet, knows what’s good for her and likes what her owner gives her.” The girl nodded slowly, still chewing and still crying.

The strange kind man smiled down at her and, from within his robe, offered her a clean handkerchief. The girl started to weep, though her master shouted at her to stop. She tried to hold back her sobs, but the kind man whispered gently into her small ear, “You can cry, dear girl; don’t let this man order you to be silent.”

In response to such truthful, simple, and meaningful words, she spat the glob of food out and wept openly. Furious and disgusted at this disobedience, the nobleman raised his hand to repeatedly smack his handmaiden.

The stranger raised his staff and struck the abuser down with deft movements that alternated staff and fists. The other noblemen looked down at their friend grovelling on the ground and then at the stranger with his staff, as he slammed it at the meal scattering it to the floor.

“How dare you! You will clean up this mess and pay for the…” The speaker did not finish his sentence as the man with the staff used the end to choke the nobleman’s throat.

Fuelled by fury, the stranger roared with command—“Chew!” The lords chewed.

“Swallow!” the lords swallowed.

“Finish your drinks!” They drank quickly.

Finally, the hooded man raged, slamming his fist on the table and breaking it in two, “Now leave, you rich pigs!”

The men rushed out carrying their beaten comrade towards the exit. Respectfully, a few of the other customers cleaned up the mess and shared their food with the slaves, who finally cried openly, especially the men, who for so long had been abused by these ill-intentioned swine they called their masters.

Now wiping her tears away, the girl drank her milk slowly, savouring its sweet taste and enjoying the sugary delicacy her friend had offered.

He plucked another fresh apple from within his robe, smiled, winked, and said, “Share it, for this is the taste of freedom.”

She took the apple and smiled at last, giving him a quick kiss on his cheek.

The old bartender finally returned with a refilled flask and inquired what had happened. The man took the filled flask and asked if he needed some helping hands in the bar.

The bartender nodded.

Then the stranger asked if the bar had a dormitory, to which the bartender nodded again.

Finally the man asked, “Will these people be treated fairly and given a good life under your employment and protection?”

The bartender pondered for a while and responded with a happy smile, “They sure will, after the delicious meal that my apprentice and cooks will serve for them.”

The freed slaves were filled with happiness and cheered, and the bartender’s apprentice shouted, “Free drinks for all for our new workers!” And the crowd cheered happily.

Staff in hand, the man smiled and left the bar. He walked until a squadron of men hurried towards him in exotic armour and surrounded him in a clean, organised circle.

In the centre the quiet stranger sat, legs crossed instead of standing. Then the same group of noblemen approached accompanied by their leaders. There were three of them, a woman and two men, all dressed in royal clothing with expensive silks and stunning jewels and followed by numerous servants. The stranger sat still with his legs crossed. The noblemen whom he had beaten down argued for his execution, yet the eldest, an old man, the father of the other two, with a wave of his hand sent the men away. The other rich lord, the son, a fat ugly man holding a slave on a leash, ordered one of the soldiers to kill the stranger. The soldier went to the man with his sword raised high, and the sitting man raised his head and looked directly at his attacker. The stranger’s eyes were a mysterious chestnut brown that darkened to a dark oak, and he said with absolute command in his voice, “Withdraw.”

The soldier withdrew his sword as commanded and returned to his place in the circle without hesitation. The soldier then woke and wondered what had happened. The strange man rose to his knees facing the noble family with a mischievous smile.

Then the noble father angrily ordered all his men to attack the stranger, and, though hesitant because of what had happened to their comrade, they did as commanded. All with swords high rose to finish the man, the stranger, who with daunting fury yelled, “Enough!” A huge gust of wind blew at the soldiers, and they all collapsed not just from the blow of the wind but from his voice.

As the unconscious men lay on the ground, the stranger with the powerful voice lifted his staff and walked away from the scene. The fat nobleman rushed towards him yet, dragging his slave, he was unable to keep up. Breathing heavily, he stopped. Then he shouted at the man to stop, but he didn’t. Then the fat nobleman pulled out a jewel-studded flintlock pistol and pointed it directly at the stranger.

“Run, stranger!” the leashed slave yelled, jumping in front of the gun. With a bang, the body of the slave fell and lay limply as the ground was dyed the colour of rubies. The fat master angrily kicked at the dead body, cursing him, but calmed down and called for another slave to be his “pet”.

The stranger turned around, un-hooded himself and took off his robe. He was just like any other peasant, but there was something that made him truly different. He was fit, with muscles that flexed and veins that popped; he was a strong man, a powerful man. His skin colour was that of a white man yet tanned lightly by the sun, and his hair was ruffled and a dark golden blonde colour.

He then gazed at the man who had tried to shoot him. Anger and fury showed on his face, as his eyes turned to the colour of a grey deathly ash. The ground started to crack underneath him; the buildings alongside him started to tremble and break, and the wind blew furiously. The man roared in anger, “How dare you!” his voice shaking the buildings. “How dare you dispose of this man, and treat him as an animal?”

Enraged, the stranger walked towards the nobleman and with every step, the ground broke. “You show no respect for this man, his life, his body, his soul, and his voice. How dare you abuse this human being?” The nobleman began to shake in fear; coward’s tears and snot ran down his face. He tried to apologise and show that he respected his new pet, but the stranger bellowed as he approached, “Don’t you touch this person, you disgusting pig!” With that he raised his fist and slammed it into the noble’s face. The coward collapsed with the sickening crunch of bone, his face bleeding and voice moaning in pain till he passed away in agony.

His father bellowed in anger and pulled out another jewelled pistol, but with shocking speed the furious man with his staff hit the old tyrant on the side of his head. A thundering smack came from the staff and a revolting snap from the skull. The gun dropped to the ground, and the rich man’s daughter in her fine fabrics took the gun and grabbed a nearby peasant.

The peasant was the boy who had tried to rob the stranger. The warrior looked directly into her blue eyes, his eyes the terrifying colour of death.

She spoke, “You hurt my family. You will be punished severely, and I will make you regret your murder of my father and brother. I will make you suffer!” she said it all through a furious face and raging eyes.

The man on the other hand, remained unfazed by her threats, unhurt at all by her words, and he replied in a calm, serious tone, “You are nothing. All you have that makes you higher than everyone is your riches, beauty, and status, and without all that you are nothing more than a whore.”

The lady started to shake, each of the words ringing true, piercing more than just her heart and consciousness but her soul as well.

He continued, “Your father and brother do not love you, and you hate them, for they abused you horribly and unspeakably. And you turn that anger towards the people you rule over and those you own. You have slaves, both men and women, to come to your room and give you love and pleasure, but you feel numb. You just feel their touch, their weight on top of you, and their shallow and unwilling breath.”

The woman was shaken terribly by the words. Those secrets hid inside her scarred mind and within the castle walls. How was it that he read her so easily like an open book?

He continued, “You feel nothing. After numerous alliances to numerous lords and rich men, after numerous honeymoons and numerous hours of bed sport, you cannot grasp love or joy from anyone, not from your family nor your lovers. You are a living disgrace, a woman who has been on her back her whole life and the whole world on top of you.”

The woman released the boy and fell on her knees, trembling in shame and horror that this absolute stranger at first glance knew everything about her.

His final words broke her as he said the truth of what she was, “You are a prostitute who feels nothing.”

And with those final words she collapsed, her mind shattered, her heart torn, and her soul broken. She had truly died in spirit. The citizens looked down at her, but the slaves with pity took her away to her home, where she would rest alive but dead inside.

Slowly, the stranger calmed and his eyes turned from the colour of dead ash to his rich vibrant chestnut brown. He picked up his robe, resettled his hood, grasped his staff, and strode towards the city gates.

Before he reached the exit, he saw the boy to whom he had given an apple. “Your eyes, sir, they are like mine. Mine change like yours. Who are you?”

The man smiled, looking down at the smooth, innocent face of the boy, his hair the colour of night and his eyes like autumn brown. He noticed the abusive scars on the tanned body under the dirty shirt, and he knelt down looking at the boy’s eyes.

His eyes changing from lightest to darkest brown, colours of nature, with the boy looking at them in wonder, the man spoke, “The soul is a combination of dyes and paint. The eyes are the windows of the soul and reflect its colours. The eyes speak louder, for they show the willpower and command, and when the soul speaks, the eyes echo its voice and display its colours. If the spirit is powerful, your body must be powerful to match its strength, for if your inner being can shake the earth or topple great beasts, then your body can do just that. Then finally there is the voice, for the voice is not just from your lips but from the mind. The mind is where your voice truly is. The mind can hear not just the noise of the lip, but the sound of a person’s thoughts and the voice of the soul. If your voice is mighty, the lips will respond in a mighty sound; if gentle it will respond gently, for the voice is the soul’s greatest asset. If you train mind, heart and presence, young boy, you can topple great emperors and beasts of the ferocious wild. Farewell. Your eyes and voice will be your ambition and will serve you well.”

With these final words, he stood and strode through the gates, and the boy with eyes of wonder watched him journey into the world.

#writing #creativity #shortstory #fantasy