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'3...2...1...Happy birthday!'
The maple leaves and dandelions swayed in celebration of the Brunette's birthday, along with two of his other friends - Blondie and Raven.
'What did you wish for?' The Brunette fidgeted with the messily handcrafted flower crown made by Blondie, as he pursed his lips in thought.
'I hope you wished for a sword! One that you could actually hurt someone with!'
'Raven! Let him speak!' The Raven blew a raspberry and nudged the Brunette, clearly still lost in his thoughts.
'I want to become a king!' The Brunette exclaimed after a few seconds, eyes shining against the sunset glow.
'Booo. That's so lame,' groaned playfully by the Raven, much to the Brunette's embarrassment and attempt at explaining himself.
'I want to help the poor and those in need! If I was the king, I could help them by giving them food and homes!' said sincerely by Brunette.
The King in Brunette's world is the saviour and problem-solver, the perfect reality for a child.
'Yeah yeah, and I want to become a soldier! Peace will always rule as long as I'm a soldier!' said Raven.
Soldier - a role most kids, especially boys who have a liking towards swords, would admire and wish for the position in the future. Waving the sword with your name engraved, while fighting evil characters sounds so cool for them.
'What do you want to be?' The Brunette directed the question at Blondie with a curious smile.
'Hmm, maybe a wanderer? Free to wander across the world sounds fun, don't you think?' answered Blondie, munching on the scone his mother had baked.
'I thought you wanted to be a poet,' Raven had interrupted him while trying to cool off his scalded tongue from eating fiery-hot scones.
Poet - a wanderer venturing the unknown land and seas, while writing poetry and inspiring the world along with him.
'Perhaps,' the bell tolling puts their tiny birthday celebration to a halt and all of them started to gather the small pastries and flower crown laid on the meadow. They were all eager to feast on their mother's pottage upon returning home.
'See you soon!' The boys hugged and bid their farewells before running their separate ways to each their home.
Decades later
As the figure walked with heavy and big steps, blood was dripping onto the purple carpet laid on the polished wooden floor. He only had one destination in mind, the throne room ahead of him. The guards on duty would hurriedly make way for him and avoid eye contact when doing so.
Heavy doors slammed open, announcing the figure's presence to the person inside. The sound of the claymore being dragged against the floor sounded all the way to the person sitting atop the throne, making him irritated by the screeching.
'Enough with that. Just carry your sword for goodness' sake', said the one who only needs to handle the affair of the kingdom.
'How about exchanging places a day or two, dear king?' The soldier sneered at the king and offered his claymore, challenging him to take up on his offer. The royal documents crumpled under the King's clenched fist, before he cleared his throat and attempted to smooth the creases as much as he could.
'Don't you dare compare me with you. I much rather be in Poet's position, speaking of which is not here yet.' The soldier scoffed at his statement and found it ironic.
'Who was the one who so boldly wanted to become king yet regrets it now?'
'Have you ever actually sat in my position and had to settle countless of unspoken disputes and made heavy decisions that could end or possibly start a war? The whole country is expecting me to be all righteous and do what they desire of me. Have you stood in that position before, where not everything is pure instinct and bloodshed, where problems need to be solved by looking at both sides?' Silence passed through the throne room before tension started creeping between the king and the soldier.
'My my. Can't the both of you handle a minute or two not arguing?' The poet strolled in lesiurely and took a quick scan of the mood, before internally slapping himself for addressing the elephant in the room. He was donned in loose linen with some gold accents, attire casual enough to passer-by yet striking enough for people to know he holds a high position in the society. Petals and weeds, replacing his usual hat, poked out from his ruffled hair.
'Quit it, poet. Neither of us have days to wander around freely.'
'Ouch, mind you. I spread my power through words amongst the streets and people. That's how I influence. I don't just do nothing and wander around. You'd be surprised that most of the council's worries and opinions came from the gossiping of the commoners.' The soldier could only hmphed in annoyance and glared outside at the bustling town.
'How was your day though, soldier?'
'The outskirts reported of bandits, so I had to deal with them.'
'Sounds fun,' a knock interrupted the trio and had them all glancing towards the door.
'Come in,' the King granted permission. The doors opened with a creak and a soldier came in with an agitated look on his face. He walked over to the King and whispered into his ear, causing the King's expression to harden at his words.
'Excuse me then, the both of you. There are some matters needing to be discussed and dealt with in the council, much to my dismay.' said the King.
'I might as well head off to the outskirts to finish those bandits again.' The soldier faked a yawn and stretched his arms as though the topic of royal affairs bored him to no end.
'Oh dear, another time then,' the poet hummed and took out his journal to record of today's events.
'Next time, let's wander around the meadow again, poet.' The King promised before he stood up.
'I'll keep you to that promise, King.'
'Don't, who knows when he's actually free for that?' The soldier snorted at the thought.
'Hopefully,' the king plastered a dejected smile as he patted poet's shoulder and gave a look at shoulder.
Only then, did he proceed outside the throne room to where his duties call. No matter if he enjoyed or disliked them, a king's duties is inevitable. Unlike the soldier, who is bound for violence and justice, balancing them is the hardest thing for him to take action upon. The poet, who is peaceful and carefree of the surface pressure of the world, utilises his words as his power, influencing others with him. Imagine minding every word that comes out of your mouth.
Hence, who are you?
Inspired by
Soldier, Poet, King
The Oh Hellos
2015
Epitome :
These 3 characters represent how reality works. When you're an adolescent, there is not a worry in the world, and you hope that adults can sometimes take you more seriously. When you mature, you wished for things the way it were. As we grow as an adult just like the king, the duties and responsibilities are inevitable, we must keep moving ahead whether we like it or not. As you age, friends change and grow distant, we might not be able to understand why and cannot accept the change, but it is inevitable. The world spins, leaves fall and so do we, along with them.
"
As kids we loved heroes, as adults we understand villains.
Written by,
Melissa Lee
The Fonz
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