The Art of Forgiveness

There's a War (Past 1)

There was a war going on out there somewhere. A war that had lasted for centuries. A great war that had left the world divided.

He slowly walked through his small tribe's village, holding his lantern in his right hand. He, just like everyone else in the Tribe of Darkness, was very well aware of the war. It was a unique type of war, one where there weren't battles or fights, just divisions and rules. The war couldn't touch him so long as he stayed in line and kept himself safe in his village.

He had just turned nineteen, which was when the tribe officially considered youth to be adults. However, he didn't feel much different than he had before. When he looked down at his reflection in his lantern, he saw the same boy he had always seen. He saw smooth periwinkle-colored skin. His facial features were fairly sharp, yet symmetric for the most part. Covering his soulful luminescent silver eyes were round oversized glasses. His raven black hair was wavy and his bangs brushed over his eyes. He was tall and thin, to the point where people would often make fun of him, especially since most tribesmen weren't quite nearly as tall. He was about half a foot taller than the average person he crossed, which of course made him feel uncomfortable. He didn't like standing out or being noticeable. 

That night, the people of his village were all supposed to gather together in the center of town to celebrate the new year. It had been another year of peace for the tribe, filled with little to no conflict, at least as far as the people were aware. The sky was a dark blue color. There were no stars, but the moon was shining brightly, glowing the same blueish-white color as his lantern. 

The people of the Tribe of Darkness were primarily nocturnal. They slept during the daytime, then became active at night in order to fully be one with the darkness. It was some strange rule that he never fully understood, but never had the courage to question. No one else seemed to care, so who would he be to speak up?

He walked to the celebration alone, pulling the hood of his blue cloak up over his head to prevent his neck and ears from getting cold. He had no one to go to the celebration with, as his parents were killed in an accident many years ago and he had no siblings. Or friends for that matter. 

He absolutely hated the fact that he was always alone, but he was too awkward and shy to make any real friends. Every time he tried to be courageous and speak to people, they would give him strange glances, then move on with their lives, so he stopped trying. On top of that, whenever he did speak up, he would nine out of ten times just say something embarrassing without thinking.

He wasn't sure why he was even going to the celebration in the first place. He knew that the whole night would be spent with him, sitting alone away from the crowd, counting down the seconds until he could go home and read. He silently scolded himself for not bringing a book with him to the event in the first place. 

The center of town was decorated with purple and blue flowers covering practically every corner. People were smiling, talking, eating, and dancing to the upbeat music that was being played. Looking around, he could see that practically every person there was with someone else. Some were hanging out in groups of friends, others were dancing with their significant other. He was the only one who was all alone.

He looked down and sighed, knowing that it was a mistake even coming in the first place. He sat himself down at one of the many tables that had been set up around the edge, then pulled out a quill, a small inkwell, and his notebook. He opened to the seventh page, then adjusted his glasses and began writing.

January 1st,
The moon is bright. It's round and full on this night of celebration, reflecting the sunlight into our darkness. When I look around, I see people smile. I am surrounded by flowers blooming and gentle songs playing. I am surrounded by others who are celebrating another year of joy. Another year of happiness. I, on the other hand, do not know what I wish to celebrate. Perhaps another year of simply being alive. I'm unsure. Is something as simple as that even worthy of being celebrated?