An untold tale

Flash Fiction piece with the words "That's my favorite story."

The villagers gathered with the advent of dusk. Ramappa cherished the moment when everyone’s attention was focused on him. Today he had a special tale.

His voice brought a quietude.

“Today, I will tell you the story of Leela,” he proclaimed in his inimitable style.

“Who is that?” someone asked from the recesses of the seated crowd.

Ramappa’s voice floated. “She was of this village and we all owe her for our existence.”

The folks generally lapped up anything he said but today murmurs and whispers abounded.

“It all started two hundred years back,” he continued ignoring the prater. “She was the daughter of the headman.”

“When the British came to India, they took over our kingdoms and lands. But, they never occupied our village.”

A pause.

“It was Leela,” Ramappa continued. “The whole country knew about the gold in our caves and the British found out too.”

“They came in large numbers to the village with the hope of getting our gold.”

Now he had them.

The little boy in front exclaimed. “We fought off the entire British army?”

Ramappa smiled. He was going to take his time with his narration.

“We didn’t have to,” he stated.

It felt good to build the suspense.

People stirred and moved closer to him.

“Leela had the power of magic.”. He sat back and let them digest that.

An audible gasp went rolling through the rapt audience.

“She made the whole village disappear. The caves, forests, all of it.”

“The British searched for many days but found nothing. They finally gave up.”

A lady all the way in the back stood up.

“That’s my favorite story.”

Heads turned to look at her.

With the tranquil smile still firm on her face, she slowly disappeared.