My hands grip the long wooden handle of the old rusted hoe. My palms are stained with calluses from the handle. I dig into the earth, every swing sending dirt and pebbles flying. Most of them end, inside my boots. My eyes sting from the falling sweat and the blazing sun above burns my exposed upper body, painting it crimson red. Only a little straw hat protects my head. I fight not to pass away from the scorching heat. My body wants to vomit, but I refuse.What I would give for a cloud to appear in the sky, making this daily torture a little bit more bearable. I hate farming, I hate this life. What gets me going is the delicious soup mom makes at the end of the day. It also motivates my brother and father which all struggle with me. I lick my lips. They are all dried out from the humid air around me. Bugs land all over me, annoying me even more. They all land on my burned skin, sometimes even biting me. How are they not dead from the heat?
I stop for a moment to rest. I lean on the hoe, letting my body take a big breath. My eyelids grow heavy, the world around me fading into a gentle blur as I drift on the edge of sleep.
"Big brother! Big brother!" my little brother yells from the other side of the field, his voice pulling me back in to reality. "Come and see this!"
I arrive to my brother standing before him. His reddened face is full of joy. A big smile dancing on his lips. My brother's body is full of fresh energy, It is like he hasn't worked all day. His legs jumping around and hands waving at the paved road. The road which goes north.
"Look Big brother" he exclaims, grabbing my hand and pulling me forward. "On the road! Look! Those are travelers. They are going south Big brother! South!"
"So?" I ask raising my eyebrow.
"They've been to the north." he replies, his voice bubbling with excitement. "They've probably seen the big towns there! Imagine the views—the massive castle walls, the palaces that touch the clouds, and the towering mountains with their white peaks looking down upon us. The stories these people must have!"
Years ago I was the same as my little brother. Joyfull to see people which have went north. I remember rushing toward them despite my father's warnings. I climbed onto the paved road, my heart racing at the thought of hearing their tales. I fell to my knees, tilting my head up, and begged them to share what they had seen. But they just looked down at me with dead eyes, ignoring my eagerness as they continued their journey south. In that moment, I felt a mix of anger, sadness, and confusion. Why wouldn't they say anything? Why ignore me? Now, I understand.
I am a nobody.
My mother used to say that nobodies are those who do not dream. Those which dreams don't touch even the tip of the withered yellow grass on the ground. But I do dream. My dreams stretch way beyond the obsidian gates of the sovereigns and the palace of the Emperor. Yet I am still a nobody. What are dreams if you can only shout them in the wind.
My brother begins to sprint toward the road, jerking his body in happiness waving his hand to come with him. But I stop him, gripping his tiny body with my superior arms.
"What are you doing, big bro? " he protests, trying to wriggle free. "Don't you want to asks them something? They might give us a present. A souvenir which will tell stories."
I say nothing. Only tightening the hold. He tries to fight me, attempting to kick me in the groin and viciously biting the burned skin on my arm. I scream in pain, but don't let go.
"Release me!" he yells, elbowing me in the ribs.
"No!" I snap. I won't let the same happen to my brother. I am doing it for him.
Once the traders go far away I break my grip, letting my brother go. He stumbles a few steps before realizing the travelers are too far. He turns to me cursing me. His face is even redder than before. "Why did you stop me?" he screams, grabbing handfuls of dirt to hurl at me. I yell at him to stop, but he doesn't listen. Just then, our father steps in, his presence commanding.
"Stop fighting you two!" Our father barks, stepping in between us. "You are brothers. You should protect each other."
"But dad he stopped me from going to the traders." by brother frowns. His dark eyes beginning to form tears.
Father looks at me hinting a little smile. He knows why I stopped my brother. He lift's his shoulders and looks back toward our little home. "Hey watch" he says pointing back to the house. "The chimney has began to smoke. Your mother must be ready with the soup"
"It is getting late and you both are probably hungry and tired from the work today. I know I am." he laughs "Let's go and fill our stomachs. What do you say?" I am quite hungry and the sun is beginning to fall, so I nod to my father giving him a little smirk. My brother is still furious, but also very tired and hungry so he looks down. My father laughs and gestures us to follow him, waving his massive palm.
We enter the kitchen, the rich aroma of soup swirling around us, making my mouth water. Mother has set the stockpot in the center of the table, and bowls of steaming soup sit in front of each chair. She waits for us to sit, before going around each of us. She gently kisses us out forehead. This kind kiss removes all the weight from my father's old body. It makes my little brother once again a ball of happiness. The kiss puts a smile on my face and for a moment I forget all of today's struggles. It is a relief to know that someone loves you.
My mom, radiant and loving, sits at the end of the table. Her blonde hair flowing like the sun-kissed fields, a beautiful reflection of what I've inherited from her. She gazes at us with her warm, dark eyes, smirking at our dirty faces. My brother and I exchange mischievous glances, trying to suppress our laughter as she nods, signaling us to begin eating.