The name is Aranya.
I've been told a thousand times and more by my mother about how I was named. She told me that I am a princess and that my father ventured to the forest to look for the cocoons of silkworms, so he could provide me the softest silk fabric for my clothes. Of course, he wouldn't have made that possible without the help of a magical creature, which my mother used to describe as the good witch living along the rivers of gold. My mother never heard anything about my loving father until the day I was born. She was in delighted shock when she found out I was a girl. I was named Aranya, after the forest and my father, Arthur. He came back, bringing me the fanciest and coziest clothes I could ever have, then left my mother with a love letter.
"I needeth to repay the kindness of the valorous witch but I shall cometh to thee ev'ry full moon with all the love I failed to giveth. And to my princess, I promise to serve thee with the most quite quaint things that the world could offer. Until then, hold on to the idea that I love you dearly,"
As a child that was convincing but as I see it now, I've realized my mother has a commendable imagination for telling such a cruel story disguised as a fairy tale.
My father never went to the forest for my sake, there were no fancy clothes nor wonderful gifts. There was no good witch but only a good wife, I wished I could hate. My mother never knew I was a girl because she was broke, and she never heard anything from my father because she was his paramour. His love letter shouldn't sound sweet and genuine, because it's about the illicit affairs they shared, for which I was conceived.
The day I was named was also the day my mother started telling tales to feed my hunger for love,
and when she died...
I crave for it like how a child crave for her mother's milk, but men only sucked every romance left in my bones, and everything became a story I hate to tell.
༊*·˚myeowning
