The Fish's Bookshelf

The Forgotten Ones - Short Story

In a small town, there was a small river, over that river was a small bridge, and on that bridge were some small benches. Seated on one of those benches, was a small girl typing away on a laptop. Nobody knew who she was or what she was doing, they just knew that she was always there. Always on that bench, always on that laptop.

People have tried to approach her, to ask her where her parents were, all she did was mutter something in another language and continue typing. Soon enough, people began to give up on helping her, so they left her alone. Occasionally a drunk would stumble by, try talking to her, then just end up frustrated at the silence. Maybe someone would sit on the bench and talk, it would be a one sided conversation of course, but sometimes people just need someone to listen.

One day, a new face moved into the town, a man whose ego was inflated like a blimp, he bought a large house. The prideful man went to the bar every other night, he wasn't a good person, alcohol only made him worse. He would rant to anyone who would listen about how he used to be so great, how people would kneel before him, how they worshipped the very ground he spat on.

After only two months of him being there, the townspeople decided that they didn't like him. They began to ignore him, to the point of putting effort to get away from him whenever they saw him. The man was left with nobody to listen to him, nobody to talk to.

It was an ordinary night, Finn was getting drunk per usual, ranting to the young man behind the counter as he sipped on his drink. It was the regular topic, 'the king's constant call', a name given by the citizens of the town.

After downing his drink, the blond man stood up, slapped some money on the counter, and wobbled out of the bar. In his drunken state, he decided that instead of going home, he should wander around the town in the moonlight, explore areas other than the bar.

As Finn made his way down the empty street, he came across a bridge. The bridge had many small cracks, along with many benches, Finn observed as he shuffled along the stone path. Soon enough he noticed the girl with the laptop, how could he not? Her green hair was illuminated by the screen of her laptop, making her stand out like a sore thumb. She was a new face, one that Finn had never seen before, that must've meant that she hadn't heard his tale! At least, not from him. The tall man decided that this girl should know of his stories, since they were something that everyone should hear, at least that's what Finn's intoxicated mind thought.

Once he sat down next to the girl, he opened his mouth to blabber on and on about everything he's told the rest of the town. But before he could utter a word, she spoke in the same foreign language that she always did. Of course, Finn couldn't understand what she said, so he chose to ignore it with a frustrated grunt.

"Long ago, I was a king. I had a wife, three kids, even an entire kingdom! Anythin' I wanted, I got. The people praised me, everythin' I did, 'cause I did it all for 'em." Finn began, his speech slurred from all the alcohol he had drank. "I fought wars for 'em, got them more land, 'n' everythin' they coulda needed to get a rich life... I was their king!" Bellowed the tanned man as he slammed his fist on the bench, causing it to shake and crack a bit.

As he recalled his old life, Finn began to tear up, running his hands through his light hair. Almost silently, the girl had closed her laptop. With a sad sigh, she looked at the man and spoke in a somber tone.

"You may have been a king, but me? I was a god."

Based on a prompt:
"I was a king!" He bellowed, spitting at the girl's feet. She smiled at him, her eyes sad and yet full of mischief.
"And I was a god."