The cool December wind whisked through the calm village on Sunday morning. Zidan, the banished prince of the Utopia, stormed through the blooming forest. A black long sleeve cotton shirt clung to his body; a black leather jacket accompanied it. Strapped diagonally across his chest was a black fanny pack containing slices of sourdough bread and a jar of mixed berries. A black leather belt secured Zidan’s tucked shirt into his black dress pants. His dress pants were tucked into his polished black combat boots, tightened with thick black laces.
Zidan held an old wooden baseball bat, dragging it through the undergrowth of the forest. His cold blue eyes darted through the thick vegetation. A voluptuous beehive clung to a thick tree branch. Golden honey dripped from each cell of the honeycomb, pooling around the dehydrated cinnamon colored leaves.
His rhythmic stride broke beside the hive. The calmness of the honey nest had not invoked any sort of aggression to Zidan; however, Zidan raised the bat into the air with triumph, slashing it through the hive and colliding with the stumpy tree. A shard of wood splintered from the bat, leaving a long crack through the middle. A swarm of enraged bees materialized, buzzing in a vicious frenzy.
Innocent shrubbery was assaulted by Zidan’s splintered bat as he began sauntering towards the nearby village. The irate bees chased after him, buzzing through the forest with persistence.
Thick foliage halted the angry insects. Sunlight permeated through the thick vegetation, blinding Zidan. In one swift motion, he slashed through a thicket of climbing vines with his bat. The dehydrated vines collapsed into a thorned mound. The foliage thinned out, revealing a wide dirt road with rubble and rocks scattered around.
A horse drawn wagon strolled past Zidan, the jovial coachman waving as he passed. The village houses were irregularly dispersed around the area. Some houses were small and constructed of large rocks. Other houses were larger, constructed of wood. Flowering vines sprawled across each house, strangling the nonliving structure.
“Bloody mucky innit,” Zidan scoffed, disgusted at the overgrown settlements. His heels clicked against the thick pavement, as he trekked across the road, stopping at the wooden door of the closest cottage.
Zidan knocked on the door, waiting for an answer. A minute passed without acknowledgement from the house. Zidan pounded on the door a second time. No response.
“Hello?!” he yelled at the door. His heavy voice carried through the wind, finding rest with fluttering birds. The lack of reply signaled that the home was vacant.
Zidan reached for the handle of the door; however, his hand did not make contact with the anything. A quick examination of the door proved that the handle was not gold or engraved with fragile details. The examination proved that door did not posses a handle.
He sighed and propped his bag against the house, pushing open the heavy door. The house contained a singular room with a few furnishings. A bed displayed itself against two walls, facing the entrance. A small circular table sat in the center of the room. The corner opposite to the bed contained the reminiscence of a kitchen. A wooden counter ran along the wall, breaking itself into a sink. One shelf followed along the wall above the counter, storing a few spices. The most expensive furnishing was the ice chest, located on the back wall between the bed and kitchen area.
Zidan stepped inside, inspecting the house as he strolled towards the chest. He pulled open the wooden door to the chest, revealing a golden jar of honey. Zidan unzipped the pouch strapped across his chest, snatching the honey and placing it inside.
The door to the chest was left ajar as he began his way out of the cottage. The few spices on the shelf began to rattle at his exit, the entrance door also left ajar.\
He collected his bat, sauntering from the cottage to the main dirt road. He began his trek into the village, reaching into the open pack and pulling out the jar of berries. He unscrewed the lid, reaching in for a raspberry and popping it into his mouth with the guidance from the sight of each tumbleweed he passed.
Zidan wandered aimlessly through the village, and eyes widened as he noticed a small child. She sat against a tall brick building, her back resting against the wall as she stared into the clouds. Her bones prodded through her pale skin and her thin hair tangled itself into knots. Her dull blue shirt was too large for her body, slipping off her shoulders. The shirt was torn and frayed, giving alarming reminders of its age. Healing scrapes trickled their way along her knees, flowing up to her elbows. Her feet had no protection against the harsh pavement.
Zidan crouched down, meeting the eyes of the malnourished girl and setting his bat to the side. He placed the jar of berries beside her, reaching into his pack and pulling out a slice of sourdough bread. He reached towards the girl’s frail hands, picking them up and placing a slice of bread into them. He cupped her hands as she held the bread.
“Try and eat, yeah?” he insisted.
The frail girl nibbled on the bread, stopping halfway through the slice to smile at Zidan. He returned the smile. She set the bread down on the metal top to the jar of berries, pushing herself against the wall to stand up. Zaidan stared in awe at this, reaching his hands out to catch her in case she falls.
Zidan began to stand up, dusting the gravel from his clothes once he became stable. The girl grasped Zidan’s hands and smiled. Her aura illuminated in a soft golden glow. Her body began to lift from the ground, her toes a few inches above the gravel pavement once she stopped.
“The performance of a noble act forgives those of the unholy.” Her gentle voice held weight within her words. She released her energy through herself, surging Zidan with her glowing silhouette.
The malnourished girl descended down, making contact with the ground. Her body gained life and health, and her being brightened and seemed radiant. Her torn clothes morphed into a flowing white dress, gold accents embroidered into the silk fabric.
“Treat thy mistakes; restore your peace.” she said.
Zidan’s eyes widened. He broke into a sprint towards the small house, waving goodbye to the woman. He rushed to the house in the distance, the wooden door left open.
He burst into the house, crashing into a tall man. The man was slender, wearing a white dress shirt tucked into his black slacks. Long golden wings extended from his upper back.
“I apologize,” Zidan stated, dusting himself off. He looked up at man he crashed into. “Kaiyo?” He breathed in. “I didn’t know this was your house.”
“Yes, though it seems it was broken into today.” Kaiyo frowned with disappointment. He crossed his arms and fluttered towards the ice chest. He opened the door and sighed.
“About that,” Zidan sighed once more. He reached into his pack and held out the golden jar of honey, Kaiyo’s hand brushing briefly over Zidan’s. Zidan looked up, staring into Kaiyo’s eyes. “I broke into, what I now know is, your house. I stole the honey. But, then I realized I was wrong. I simply just . . . want to apologize for my actions all those years ago.”
Kaiyo gripped the golden honey jar and smiled. “I forgave you, all I needed was an apology.”
