The horizon was burning with the colors of twilight when Glida ascended the southern hills toward the ancient building, leaving behind a day full of cedar tree adventures and kitchen tasks. The building stood to the south of the village, underlooking the great mountain range behind, a silent witness to a bygone era. Its crumbling columns and decaying walls told the story of ancient glory, and what remains of it today—according to the villagers—was nothing but a faint shadow of its former magnificence from glorious ancient times.
From this stone elevation, Glida had grown accustomed to watching the sun sink into the blazing horizon. Often, he was haunted by questions about this majestic daily scene: Had a human foot ever set upon the land of the sunset? And if it had, did its owner ever return to recount what they had seen? and most important, where does go in the night ?
The village lay to the north in its evening stillness, protected by its high stone wall and its massive arched gate. With each sunset, torches began to light one after another along the wall and atop the houses, until the earth and sky seemed to compete in their display of light—the former with fires made by humans, the latter with stars sown by the universe.
Glida inhaled the evening breeze deeply, contemplating the scene he never tired of seeing. Behind him, the chain of green mountain ridges arrogantly pierced the clouds, veiling the southern horizon with their grandeur. Below the hills, the village was surrounded by an endless forest of intertwined cedar trees mingling with their companions of various species. Far in the distance, stood a monstrously giant tree, its branches reaching into the sky as if challenging the hills, casting its shadow over the smaller trees dwarfed beneath it.
---
Glida sat atop the crumbling stone structure, gazing at the sky stretched before him and the horizon lost beyond the forbidden forest. The forest always piqued his curiosity, filling his mind with questions about what lay beyond it. As he drowned in his thoughts, he remembered that cold autumn night when he spoke to his grandmother about his desire to explore the world.
[Two years ago]
His grandmother was preparing dinner in the kitchen, warmth seeping from the fire crackling in the stove. The ten-year-old boy sat beside her, wrapped in her woolen shawl, feeling safe and cozy. Suddenly, he decided to break the silence that filled the room. With childlike enthusiasm, he said, "Granma, the wanderer told me today that beyond the forest, there are great villages they call cities. He also said he visited one that was suspended in the sky."
His grandmother didn't answer immediately but continued stirring the soup in front of her, as if she hadn't heard him. But Glida insisted, adding, "He also told me that he once saw a magnificent palace made entirely of crystal and glass."
In that moment, with lightning speed, his grandmother lifted the ladle and gently tapped him on the head.
He jumped from the sudden pain and said, "Ouch! Maa, why?"
She replied with a teasing tone, raising an eyebrow, "I just wanted to make sure, does your head have a brain in it, or is it just an empty box for storing such nonsense? Do you really believe there are villages flying in the sky? How absurd! Maybe next time, the wanderer will tell you that mountains move when you clap for them!"
Glida exclaimed in surprise, "But... why would he lie to me? He said he visited it himself."
His grandmother shook her head and sighed, saying, "Because you believe in balderdash, you foolish boy. Now hand me the salt beside you."
Glida took the glass jar and handed it to her, then returned to the warmth of her shawl. After a moment of silence, he said quietly, "He also promised to show me the wonders of the world if I met him outside the village."
This time, he was spared another crushing blow of ardent affection from the soup ladle; instead, his grandmother simply tossed more firewood into the flames to enhance its glow. She seemed lost in her thoughts. He heard her muttering some words he couldn't quite distinguish: "Damn you. you useless nuisance."
After a moment's hesitation, Glida boldly said, "GrandMa, I want to leave the village to see the world."
His grandmother froze for a few seconds, then fell silent. She didn't answer him. Glida felt the weight of silence descend on the room, so he dared to say, "I know you hear me."
He pulled his body from under the shawl to see his grandmother's face and noticed the glimmer of tears shining in the firelight, catching a few drops on her cheeks. She quickly wiped them away with her hand, making excuses: "I didn't expect this onion to be so sharp."
Glida felt a pang of guilt, murmuring, "Did I say something that upset you?"
After a few moments of deep silence, she unexpectedly replied calmly, "Give me a hand and let's set the dinner table. I'll tell you something afterward."
---
After half an hour of bustling between the kitchen and the main room, lit by a few candles fixed in the crevices of the stone wall, the two sat sharing a bowl of soup and some dates and bread in prolonged silence amidst the quiet of the cold nights. Finally, the grandmother broke the silence, saying, "I knew the day would come when you'd want to spread your little wings, but I didn't expect it to arrive so quickly. Ten years have passed as if they were a moment." She sighed lightly and continued, "I promised your parents that I would never refuse you anything, and I'm still keeping my promise."
Glida interrupted with his mouth full as he chewed, "Buh' you didn' le' me buy shome candy wif my own money yeshterday... chewing sounds ...an' lasht week, you shtoppped me from goin' wif the hunters on their trip!" swallows audibly
And before he could finish, his grandmother tapped him on the head and said sharply, "Let me finish speaking, you annoying brat!"
Glida grumbled, rubbing his head, "Ouch, you always hit me! You'll really grow me horns with your slaps!"
His grandmother sighed again and said, "Where was I? Oh yes. You told me you wanted to leave to see the world. Well, do you think it's that easy? Not a chance."
Glida raised his eyebrows in surprise, "So you were listening to me in the kitchen? He spat some food from his mouth, "What's with all this mystery?"
His grandmother replied with a smirk, "But there's a condition for your departure: you must first find the exit. Have you ever wondered why no visitors come from the outside world ? Because, simply put, they don't know we exist. And even if they did, the entrance and exit to the village is known only to its people."
Glida asked curiously, "And why do we hide? Do they hate us that much?"
His grandmother replied, looking at him, "Find the exit first, and then we'll talk. I'll give you a hint: ask the great tree."
Glida looked at her perplexed and said, "Is that all there is to it?"
His grandmother responded with a mysterious smile, "You will soon discover the truth about your dreams, my dear boy."
---
[In the present]
"I couldn't reach the tree again," Galid muttered to the twinkling sky. With every attempt to get closer, the air weighed down on his steps, as if an invisible wall was pushing him back. Today, he managed to cover half the distance before his strength failed and the world faded from his senses, only to find himself lying at the village gate.
He rubbed his head, groaning, "Ah..."
Since that conversation two years ago, he had been waking up at dawn, trying to reach the giant tree. Each time he got closer, he faced a strange sensation—a heaviness in his steps and resistance from the earth itself. Even the forest beasts had attacked him repeatedly, but he survived by some miracle each time.
--
Was it really luck ? Who knows.
--
"Is this what my grandmother was hinting at?" he wondered, trying to decipher her cryptic words.
The idea of seeking help seemed logical, but not here. That was the thinking of the privileged, like YOU, who lived in land of abundance and ease. In this place, people believe that everyone—even children—must bear the consequences of their choices. Those who don't, won't survive the harshness of this realm.
He leaned his back against a cold rock, letting his hands hang by his sides. The sky was adorned with faint stars on the twilight horizon, and the cool breeze teased his cloak. Yet one question continued to trouble him: "How did the old man find the forest's entrance ? And why wasn't he cast out of the village ? mmmhhh" asked with ignorance and curiosity.
Everyone ignored his inquiries. Even the candy seller, the village soothsayer and keeper of its secrets, answered with ignorance. He seemed to be hiding a deeper secret, but silence remained the rule.
He raised his right hand toward the sky, contemplating his rusty iron ring. He gripped it tightly, and the memory of his mad friend flickered in his mind.