diclaimer: i do not own Pot. heck, i don't even really own the plot. what is mine is only the interpretation. sad.
Prologue: Reminicence
You could hear strange, strange sounds there, in the marsh; harsh, and mysterious. Almost scary, even. But I am used to it. To them, those sounds that no child should ever be allowed to hear. But they are the only lullaby I grew up listening to, and the marsh, with all its mysteries the only playground I ever knew. Every time I was there, I was swallowed up by those deep, dark shadows where I could not even see the tip of my nose, was near blown away by those savage winds that hollered as if in anguish. There were no trees, no blades of grass in the open, though they thrived in the deeper nuances of the great land that I always went to. Dark depths that made the old frightful tales come alive. I confess now that I used to be afraid when I was smaller; there is no shame in that. But frightened as I was, it was the only place I could go, the only place where I felt safe.
Because it was where my family rested, feet and feet below the cold wet earth. My father, my mother, and my five siblings. There they lay, among the wild grasses, seven grey stones in a row. Forgotten. Even my brother did not visit them much, only on memorial days. He always scolded me for sneaking off to the marsh when I should be helping Taka-san at the smithy. Always. But what did he know? He had known them before they died.
I didn't even see them. Ever.
It wasn't fair, but nothing ever was. Mada mada dane. I wouldn't say that I had a hard life; Taka-san was very good to me even if my brother wasn't. But there could have been an alternative, and I yearned for it. Dreamed every single day of it.
The great marsh; that was where my story started, though it wouldn't be where it ended. That day before Christmas when I was visiting with my folks again. That day I met the man who would change my life. A convict, and a benefactor to be.
My story was a strange one. Almost like a dream, surreal. A dream of love and bright futures and genteelness. Pride and humility; knowing and not knowing. Growing up and learning. Even as I speak now, it comes back to me like a strange refrain, playing softly and alluringly like it isn't of this world. Otherworldly music.
I would fall in love and I would rise from the marsh in hopes of winning that love, only to fall back to where I belong in disillusion and reality. Then I would pick myself up and grow into what I am today. Who I am now. And I would win that heart which had me enraptured since I first set eyes on it.
This is my story, my friends. A tale of my life, and my great expectations.