Mr. And Mrs. Moore locked themselves away from the rest of us. The little Miller boys ran away. Mrs. Gilmore ate her husbands ashes, bless her soul. Hillary and Gregory folded themselves over, probably gone off to God. Me you ask? Well I’ve been harassed. Abused. Yelled at. Called names. They don’t believe me and it’s killing me. I feel my anger roar like a raging fire, clawing at my skin. I had no choice. I had to tell them. History was written wrong and nobody knew. Nobody but me.

Forty four years ago, a strange man came to the village. He was obviously foreign, his dark skin and hair was unusual in our small village. Everyone knew everything about everyone else and we never had new people. We grew up with the same people, and we never left. This man asked for hospitality, and he said in return he would give them something magical. This scared everyone. Magic? Everyone would say. No, we follow God only. Rumors spread that the man was dangerous. Said that he was sent by the devil to harm our village. When you grow up in a small village like ours, you will most likely end up as closed minded as they treated this man. The foreign man only wanted to give us a rare plant that only grew in other parts of world. We was going to show us how to germinate it’s seeds. But they didn’t know that. They saw them as a threat.

There was this woman who was the wife of the current Guild Leader of their town. She was 18 and very well respected. The night that the foreign man stayed in their town she went to his room at the inn. The woman took a rock she got from outside, and hit him. Over and over again. The first hit, she was aiming for his face. The rock was heavy and she hadn’t expected the effort that it took to swing it. Because if this, the rock hit his chest instead. The man woke in a shock and wheezed from the pressure. He had startled the woman and she jumped back. The woman looked down at the rock and knew she had to finish this. She shoved the rock with all her might towards his face. He was knocked out.

The woman searched the room in hopes to find whatever magic he had been referring to. All she found, were fruits. She knew this was a foreign plant and she found out that this was the magic he was preaching to. She cried until she couldn’t anymore, for her worries were correct. She killed a man for no apparent reason. She destroyed the fruits and hid the rock. The next day, when the man was found, everyone assumed it was the work of God and decided not to question it further. At least that’s what everyone said they did. It still became the biggest mystery in the history of their little village.

It turns out, the woman was three months pregnant. She gave birth to a beautiful healthy baby girl six months later. Eighteen years later, that girl gave birth to baby boy. Sixteen years later, the old woman was 68 and on her deathbed. The woman was never close to her only daughter-she only had boys after her first child-but was very close with her grandson, having to appreciate him being a boy. In which this case, she asked to see her grandson alone before passing. He sat down next to her laying in her straw bedding and prayed while she slept. Once she woke, she spoke to him in a low crisp voice. Not exactly hoarse, just slow and tired. She held his hand tight and tried her best to prepare him for what she was to tell. She told him to wait until she passed to share this Pandora’s box she was soon to tell him. When he promised to wait, she confessed to him. The murder. The foreign fruit. The rumors. The lies. The town would be crushed, she had told him. But she knew they must know. By the end of it, the boy was astonished. He sobbed. He was only 16 and he held the immense weight of the biggest mystery of their little town. His whole body felt weak. He crumbled to the floor, staying for hours. Just sobbing next to his dying grandmother. Once he left, his mother asked him if he was alright, and why he had been crying. He just told her that it was obvious how fast his grandmother was slipping from reality.

The day his grandmother slipped to God, the boy went to call an emergency town meeting. He told everyone how his grandmother had passed. How she had a big secret she held to her death bed. How she killed a foreign man whom was asleep. How he had no magic, just fruit. The town went chaotic. They threw things at him. Attacked him. Shouted things at him. Eventually he was thrown out. He was told that it was for his own safety, but he knew better.

The more time went on, the more people were able to think about it. This is how it became more believed. People began to except the fact that this might be true. That is when the things like suicides and runaways happened. The amount of people that went missing, turned up dead, or went crazy was more people then in the past decade. Oh and that boy? He was me. I had a spirit. I had a heart. I had feelings. I had freedom. I had SANITY. I was later arrested for evidence withholding. Some people protested, saying that I was lying, so there was no evidence to withhold. They argued that if I was lying then it was misinformation and still deserved to be locked upped.

That’s how my stupid narrow minded grandmother ruined MY life.