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A Yearly Tale is Told The air is crisp this morning. The light is starting to make its way over the mountains and over the thick forests that surround our little village. I glance back at my house, as I sit by the riverside, knowing my parents are still asleep within. But, I'm glad I get to enjoy the sunrise. On any regular day I would have missed its beauty as I slept through another few minutes. But today was no regular day. Today only happened once a year. ~ * ~ I walked by my parents' side, winding our way down to trail to the town's center. Off to the side some butterflies circled a blooming flower. I could feel them in my stomach, circling my growing nerves. Soon the crowd came into view. Thick groups of people, all centered around the raised platform which all eyes will soon be focused on. My parents and I joined in with one of the clusters. Us kids silently looked at one another while our parents exchanged formalities and started their chatter. "Alright, alright! Let's settle down now. The time is upon us! We have the drum with us!" the Mayor shouted to the crowd from the platform, signaling to begin. The drum. Kept with the village from even before its start. It is said the drum was standing in the middle of town square when our ancestor's first settled here. It held a power that kept the village mesmerized. It was only brought out once a year, only put to use for a few moments... but it made the largest impact a relic could make on any town. And now it was time to be played. The village elder took his seat behind the drum, we watched as he took a deep breath, and then he began the drumming. Pound after pound, we all sat in silence listening to the rhythm take control. Wilder and wilder the beats run out, faster and faster, picking up intensity with every strike. Then in a burst of air his voice rung out, <b> "Yoon Ji!" The name had been called. The name that would continue on the town's longest tradition. The name that would give its own life for the prosperity of its neighbors. ...my name. The murmurs rose in hushed tones as the Mayor and two of the town's larger men came and grabbed my shoulders. They smiled and told me of my privilege. I looked up and saw my mother, holding back a few tears, trying to remain strong while my dad held her around the shoulder. Then we started to move. At average pace I was allowed to walk my last steps with the men by my side. The lead me down the oldest trail, straight into the heart of the forest. We came to our stop at another raised platform, this one in a small clearing with straps tied to two large posts. Soon I was put into those straps. Soon the villagers left, my mom blowing me a kiss, my father telling me he was proud to have such a son. Soon the glade was quiet. And soon the forest started to whisper with the sounds of hungry things. As a large shadow made its way forward to wear I stood, trapped by the two poles, I could only concentrate on one thing. The sound of the drum ringing in my ears. The last sound I would ever hear. -crosad | |