The Legend of X : the Boy

“well according to Roman lore he’s an immortal soldier who’s supposedly taken part in every major war sense the American revolution, many have referred to him or her as a demon or a monster with ungodly powers. Soldiers claim that he was capable destroying military camps and bases single-handedly. Generally in Rome he’s looked down upon, a myth we tell to our children to keep them in bed at night, however when I got here I found that people have mixed feelings, to some he’s regarded as a legend something for people to aspire to, while for others he a monster who has no place in history” stated John almost as if he were reading it verbatim from a text book.

“In fact that’s why I came searching for you, I’ve got to many mixed stories on who he is, what he did and how he did it, Hell I’ve been studying him for three years and I still don’t know if he was a man or a woman. All I really know is that the first time he shows up in history reports is during the American Revolutionary war, and the last report of him in history is during WWII. No D.O.B or D.O.D, where he was born, no anything” said John in a exasperated voice. “well that‘s quite a mouth full, so you really don‘t know anything about him” replied the Storyteller Well I guess will have to start at the beginning, but first your going to tell me why you want to know and how you came to find out about me.”

“Why do I want to know?” Said John with a puzzled look on his face, “well I want to publish a book about X, someone who was as important as he or she was should be recorded into history, X’s legend is over 200 years old ad yet no one has thought to right down a single word of it. And for as why I came to you, when ever I asked some one about X they said I should find the Storyteller, that he could tell me who X really was” said John

“well then you answered my questions I guess it’s only fair I answer yours, lets start at the very beginning, shall we. If you truly want to know X then you must know what he went through” stated the Storyteller

Our story starts February 19, 1760 in the forests of the North Country where the winds are as sharp as any knife and the cold freezes you down to the bone. A place where only the strongest and fool hearted try to make a home, here in a small nameless village nestled in a clearing at the foot of a mountain and front of a river, opening to the Arctic Sea. In this village, on this day a child is born to a old Roman legionnaire seeking peace for his new family in the North Country and a young woman who had fled her poor Roman existence for the fear of persecution for believing that a god had come to earth, died and then rose again.

This child, this baby boy would find very first hardship on that cold winter night, as the child was given life, his mother’s was taken within the same hour. And so the soldier was left to care for this child whom he and his lover traveled so far and had endured so much to protect from the Romans and their gods, this little boy with snow white hair. Ten years came and went, the boy’s father taught him all he could, he taught him how to read by reading to him letters his mother had held onto titled john and acts every night. He showed how to write letters and form words also from his mother’s letters. He showed the value of hard work and labor by building their home from the trees surrounding the village. Despite having lost his wife the father did everything he could to support his boy and they never truly had to need for anything, but fate would not have the boy live such a simple life, no the story truly begins here on the night of his birth ten years later, during a blizzard which had raged for months.

A small British ship pulled into port despite all the ice and snow, eleven soldiers exited the ship into the small village. They headed straight for a large log cabin on the outskirts of the village, they moved quickly under the cover of the blizzard, they quickly made it to the cabin and kicked in the door, What they found waiting for them was mountain of a man with a hatchet in hand. A voice like thunder seem to explode from the man “Leave now a you won’t have to die” the cold and calm voice of their commander replied “Your God cannot save you or your child, please accept death honorably there is no need for this to be painful.” The man replied by raising his massive arms and then hurling his hatchet at the nearest soldier catching him square in the chest, he them walked forward to retrieve his axe, with every step he took all the soldiers stepped back.

The cold voice once again rang out “kill him!” still calm as if nothing had happened, the fight ensued until all the soldiers except for the commander were cut down by the man and his hatchet. The thunderous voice bellowed out again “leave and you may return to your men, you can tell them it require the strength of a hundred men to kill me” this time loud enough to wake his child up stairs. The boy had slept through the entire ordeal the voices and screams masked by the ever howling wind outside. The commander replied with no heat in his voice, no anger or fear even though he just watched his detail get slaughtered, “good bye” with that the commander raised his hand and there was a great flash, and red light filled the entire house, when it was over the mountain of a man whom ten men could not kill, laid lifeless in front of the commander “why do they always have to make everything such an ordeal“ stated the commander grimly. If his fathers roar did not wake him up the red light that filled his room certainly did, curious as to what was going on he clamored down the cold stairs and stumbled down the long hallway the led to the main room. What he found when he got there were ten dead me and his father face down on the floor, he quickly rushed to his fathers lifeless body crying “daddy get up, please wake up” tears rolling down his face, he couldn’t understand what was going on. As the boy lay there sobbing into his father’s shoulder a cold hand reached down a grabbed his should and pulled him to his feet, the emotionless voice of the commandeered whispered in his ear “I couldn’t save your father from these men however, your father begged me to take you with me so you would be safe, let us go before more me show up for you.” The commander the picked up the child and carried him back to the ship. When the commander returned to the ship he found the captain waiting, “did you get what you were looking for sir’ asked the captain “yes” replied the commander “and where’s the rest of your crew” asked the captain to which the commander replied “what crew.”

The ship would remain a sea for six months before making port, the boy ate his meals and did what he was told. He never spoke during the entire voyage, his time spent on deck make made him strong, his snow white hair grew wild and matted with no one to cut and quickly be came an ugly shade of gray. His body grew strong from working on deck all day, he quickly became the jack of all trades as the sailors mentored him in all facets sailing. Eventually the ship made port in the British colony of Georgia.

The boy and the commander then headed by way of horse and coach to a small town with a large fort at it’s center. When they arrived the commander to the boy through the fort to a large bunker, then through the gray concrete halls of the bunker to a room secured with a heavy steel door, when they opened the door they found a dark room with no source of light except that which was coming from the open door. The boy could see various children chained to the walls of the room which was so large that when combined with the dim light that he couldn‘t see the end of the room just darkness. When they entered the room the door shut behind them, sealing out any light that once had illuminated the room. The commander then led the boy to the wall and chained him up facing the center of the room with the others, he then silently exited the room as the door closed the chatter began to grow, the boy listened to the noise of one kid crying across the room, while the boy to his left complained in some accent he never heard before though he understood the cocky tone “more of these bloody chains, how much more of this non-sense do we have to put with, as if locking us in this room wasn’t enough” the kid was a few years older than most of the others. To the boys right there another kid about two years older than himself sitting quietly, humming some song to himself.

A short while later the door opens again and the room goes silent, the commander steps in the door along with a bunch of men dressed in similar uniforms to his and all of them where carrying large knives in their right hands, they all take their places behind the children they had brought in. Finally after all the men had taken their places a fat man dressed in a brilliant white uniform apposed to the dull gray ones of the rest of the men. He spoke with a loud clear voice that seemed to have bit draw in his accent “congratulations boys you have been hand picked by his majesties finest officers to take part in the monumental project, we are going to save the British empire, ad you are going to be heroes for it, but first you are going to have to groomed into the perfect soldiers, from now on you are going to be designated by the letter you are each given, there are twenty six of you so that means you’ll all have a unique designation, officers you may begin designation.” Before the boy had a chance to think he felt the commanders knife bite into his left shoulder and cut diagonally down his back, he was given but a brief reprieve as the knife was removed before it bite into his right shoulder and cut down and across leaving a large “X” on his back. Soon the commander walked out of the room followed by the rest of the officers leaving the wailing and moaning children behind. X laid down on his stomach, he didn’t shed a single tear, slowly he drifted off to sleep through the pain and wailing of all the other children.

As X slept he dreamed of some strange distant place a little village tucked away at base of a mountain and of an incredibly large man with a small child in his arms. When the images faded a voice returned, as strong as thunder but as peaceful as new snow it warmly spoke “if the world hates you, know that it has hated me before it hated you” just as quickly as the voice came so it left in the same way. For the rest of X‘s dreams were marked with blurry images and cold, calm and calculated voice repeating over in his head “kill him”.