Purpose.

"Do you remember the tale of the sleeping princess who lived with seven little men?"

You ponder. Who hadn't heard the tale of snow white and the seven dwarfs?

Of course, the Gods have a nastier take on that little innocent story but that's not really something you should be sharing to a girl no younger then the age of 10 at most.

"Who hasn't?"

Many.

A simple little question over one's knowledge of a little fairytale brings you back to reality.

It shouldn't be that way.

Not many people in this little village could afford storybooks. If they could, then they won't be starving.

"Why do you ask about snow white anyways?"

"....Big brother. I'm going to tell you a secret."

Little did you know that her dreams were pretty much going to be a reality. Last month, you were having dinner with your family. Your father was joking about the silly little blunder that one of his men did. Your little sister was stealing potatoes off your plate but you didn't mind at all. She is after all, a growing child.

This week, you suddenly find yourself kneeling in front of your father's empty bed.

There wasn't any sister left to comfort you for she too, had gotten her wish granted.

How you wish you could've joined them both in their eternal sleep. But you know that the Gods aren't that much generous. Gods only seem generous when you are content and well fed. Not when you are miserable or down with poverty.

Long have you lost count of the days. You and your mother only spoke of the language of sadness which soon turned into the language of anger and denial towards the heavens above.'

Damn those little holy scumbags. How dare they strut around in their grand, cozy golden halls, enjoying luxurious feasts and dances while you are stuck here, in your cold little house with only scraps of last week's stale bread and water to last you for another entire month?

Is there any justice in this world?

I will avenge you...Father....Elsie. I will bring you both home...!!

That was the only sole thought you had and it fueled you as you set out on a journey to seek the divine hand that took your father away.

There were no more tears left. It ran dry.