🔉 The audiobook is beneath the tale.
Once upon a time, in a land that no one could quite place on a map, there lived a humble peasant. Not tall, not short. Not young, not old.
Barely remembered by his own village, and certainly never known beyond the boundaries of the next field over. His name? Irrelevant. Who knows? He was a human, with hands calloused by toil and a face weathered by the wind. Maybe his full name was Bob Irrelevant. Mister Irrelevant, here's your... things.
The village was small, and every day was the same. The sun rose, the plough was hitched to the horse, and the peasants worked until they could no longer feel their backs. There were no high quests — just the endless, repetitive task of surviving, and that was the way it had always been.
One day, something ordinary happened. One peasant turned the soil, and for the ten thousand and fourth time, the earth was turned. But the peasant did not respond.
Responding to what?
It wasn't worth responding. In fact, it wasn't even worth noting. But still with his eyes opened. The earth had been silent since the first time he saw it, and now, it had found its silence? Uh. What is going bloody on? 👀 Who knew?
There were no heroic arcs, no villains or prophecies. Just the dull hum of life: a little dirt, a little water, a little bread.
The end.
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