The Road To Dreams

SYNOPSIS

A young man with an unfortunate childhood tries to track down his long-lost and presumably dead father. But the world inside his mind and the universe outside as well, has made this journey toughest of all. Has someone always been watching him? controlling him? cunningly making his life grimmer each day? And is that person is his father himself or again it's just another stillborn offspring of his delusions?

CHAPTER 1

Usual morning in the village of Korr. Winter holidays have arrived and adorable petite children are playing near the lake. Old men are smoking and making pyres. But on the other side of the lake, a boy is sitting. Red cheeks like plump tomatoes and eyes that convey that there is a giant amalgamation of emotions in it except one . . . innocence.

Zork has always been like this, fourteen year old but seems like he has seen much in those fourteen years than those old blokes. Passing away of a loved-one makes a dent in a good soul and when that ‘loved one’ is the mother it’s like a stab in the heart, that doesn’t kill but is way worse than that. But as if even that wasn’t enough, the pitiable lad hasn’t seen his father for years. Dead or alive, no one knows how and where his father is. Though some folks say he went to the city to earn money but he died there of misery and unforgiving winter. Two years have passed, but Zork remembers even the second of that. Saddest dawn it was of Korr. Zork woke up, yawning. ‘Mom, where are you, mom, mooom, !’ and there she was. Lifeless and pale on the stairs, looked as if sundried leaf. Married unwillingly at a young age just to die and leave her son in this cruel world, alone…

Sympathy can be a bit reliving but it can’t kill hunger. Though after his mother died when he was twelve, benevolent village women would give food to him, but for how long? A week, maybe a month! Zork had no choice other than to cut wood and help farmers during harvest. Schooling from the amount of money he was paid wasn’t even thinkable, because, for the helpless and awfully poor, food on the plate and even a warm coat is superfluity.

Every day’s tedious work has made the child in him sleep forever. But he never complains, no one has seen him crying. But he does cry, in his so-called home, crying and questioning his existence, praying his mom to come back or his dad with whom he has a faint memory of riding on his shoulders when he was just pint-size.

Can something patch up the stab marks, love? Maybe. Zork never believed in god. Why would he? Whenever he sees children with their mum and dad going to a nearby church on Sundays, he ponders they are wasting the time they have, for someone who is hostile or maybe even cruel towards some of his so-called children.

Zork hates winter, no harvest, fog in the woods, and sleepless nights. During the summers at least he could have had sleep for dinner, but now even that’s not accessible. Today’s night was even worse as his only left bottle of milk spilled on his rags that tried their best to keep him warm but somehow he slept, because sometimes the tiredness wins over the cold. When he woke up, the sun hasn’t risen yet, seems like extreme early in the morning. One could clearly see the stars, the sky was still dark and deep, but well-lit with constellations. Zork dears stargazing, it offers him a mood of being free and boundless. But today’s stargazing was unalike. He was eyeing the diamond-studded sky through his window. Moist eyes, numb fingers and empty stomach, all of this made him decide, and he said quietly…I’m going to the city.

Who knew that going to that wicked place who is the convict of killing his father. That city might change his life forever…

A new day, a new beginning... Azar, the dealer of wood for whom Zork worked, was waiting for him to come and take his axe from his house and start work. When it got too late he sent his spoilt son to go to Zork's house. After numerous requests and promises for gifts, Sian got up and went. Zork’s so-called house was a bit far and Sian was filled up of rage. Muttering something he went away.

After an hour or so Azar sees Sian coming, but again, without Zork. ‘What happened, where’s that boy’? Asked Azar. Sian said ‘don’t know, his hut was empty, unlocked and he has left a note for you dad’! 

Sean handed over the note to azar and it said…

Mr Azar,

I am so indebted that I found a master like you, who offered me a job knowing that I have no skill. Though I got money, but it wasn’t enough to keep the soul and body together. So’ I have decided I can’t spend my life cutting wood anymore, I want to go to the place that took my dad away. I want to rule over the money without which my mother died.

I am going to the city, I don’t know what I’ll do there but I do believe I can make my way through this. I know that today’s the payday too. If you do believe in your ‘god’ and follow his teaching of honesty and good deeds, I’d request you to buy some roses to put on my mom’s grave. 

By the time you will be reading this I might’ve gotten out of the country. It’s my bet with your god that how much hostile he can be, ill change my fate, one day.

ZORK SINARK.

 

Though Azar always treated Zork as a mere worker, after reading the letter he felt goosebumps, he said nothing and went inside. ‘it was more than a mile walk, and he doesn’t even care about the shillings he promised.’ Muttering that Sian went inside shortly afterward.

And there was Zork, after taking a full long nap, on a horse cart, watching the fields and his village that mixed in the horizon somewhere, the sun came out and the weather was beautiful as if it was welcoming the young boy in the city. As soon as the horse cart entered the city Zork couldn’t stop beaming, which was pretty rare. The yellow sunrise light with a tint of orange, coldness in the air, and the castle-like houses of the rich, everything made the sight prettier. But the smile faded in a wink of an eye when he got off the cart. Bewildered he stood on the stone pavement, looking at the city that stretched up to the hills. He said to himself ‘now what?’

 

The scenery was spellbinding, a hint of yellowish dawn and cold gust, the clouds covering the tip of hills, the whole kit and caboodle was lively, it looked as if the entire city was booming, small chalets, the meandering path, the colossal mountain that hoisted behind the hills and the motley sound of prattle, melodies and bagpipes, everything looked like a sonata made by the divinities.

‘Welcome to the beautiful city of Kov..kovo..kovos!’ said Zork reading the wooden board, he paused ‘this isn’t the city I wanted to come, this isn’t the city of Sarc!’. He promptly strode to a dumpy beautiful old woman who has been staring at him. he said ‘ma’am is this city also known as Sarc.?’ ‘Ehhh..Sarc! no-not sarc is on the other side of this country, how did you end up here love?’ Zork sensed a shiver down his spine, how did he come too far in just half a day?’ ‘what date is it ma’am’ ‘eighteen dears’ the lady said. ‘No it must be sis-sixteen!’ and his eyes got filled with tears, he felt destitute, far-flung away from home and not enough money to go back. He found himself entangled in the web of poverty and helplessness. If it’s eighteenth today, then where was he for a day and how did he reach here, he tried to think but before he could say anything, he fell unconscious.