One day in a village that dominated the countryside for miles around, a boy made history. Amanda was the boy’s name and he was braver than all the knights in the king’s army. He was always called pretty, smart, and sweet; sometimes, his classmates called him strong. But not one of the people in that village knew that the depths of his courage would make the ocean look like a well.

Amanda’s parents owned a clothing store, so he was always the best dressed child around. He wore dresses and skirts with ribbons for the first years of his life. But no one knew who he really was underneath them. On the day he made history, Amanda chose his own clothes for this time. He selected a loose shirt his parents always described as sturdy and ready for work, long pants made for the wealthier of the town’s gentlemen, and chunky leather boots. He stuffed them with socks so it would look like they fit, and when he looked in the mirror, he nodded. For this time, he smiled upon his reflection. But then the smiles faded; he knew it would be all for naught if he didn’t build up his courage. Even he did not know then how brave he was.

So it was that Amanda departed from the comforts of his home and the adjoining store. He stepped into the broad light of a fresh sun on the village. God was smiling on him and his people, Amanda decided. He prayed to God as he walked, and he prayed harder when he felt curious stares on his back. His hair, though short for a person named Amanda, was long for a person in the clothes he wore. Those who saw him pass were unsure exactly what was happening. He slowed on his way, thus opening his ears. It was as if he was the conductor to an orchestra of tongues and when he kept his head high, the whispers rose to a crescendo. He knew as he listened to their mounting confusion that he had begun to achieve the mission he had assigned himself. He proceeded on his way, still sure of himself.

Finally, he arrived. There he stood on the top step of the local church. By now, the conductor who’d wandered the streets had won himself an audience. And an audience was what he needed, for what good is a grand announcement without one? He cleared his throat. He had waited all his life to declare himself, and it was time to shout for every ear around. With the savior of the world behind him and the people of his village in front of him, it was time for freedom from the bondage of his birth; it was time to set sail on the wings of truth. All he had to do was tell the truth and see it through.

Thanks for reading this short story I wrote the other day. For more from me (in my opinion better), read:

…BRD…

I write poetry, prose, and personal pieces. All images are mine unless indicated otherwise. Feel free to leave feedback on my work anytime; I hope you enjoy.

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