A Train to Kokoshi

II: Old Man with Horses

“You don’t just fuel your ideas. Your ideas fuel you.”

CHAPTER II: Old Man with Horses; You Have Amnesia, Prince Sigmund

   FAIRY TALES DON’T exist, I have known. It is all but fantasy. When I was young, I was told that they are mere illusions put into words. A made-up idea to fuel children’s imagination. To inspire creative people into building something beautiful with their bare minds. 

   But right now, somehow… I thought I could start believing it.

   First thing I spotted by the time I awoke was the foreign environment I was in. The smell of air was different. The sky was unfamiliar. The sea was gone. The wind was unusually clean. And… I was not in the squatter area anymore.

   I could still crystally recall what happened yesterday night.

   I was serenely walking my way home in a dark alleyway. I had no lights whatsoever I could use to brighten the road ahead. All suddenly, I heard a heavy thud near my ground. Upon getting a closer look, I found a big, unused drainage hole with a blinking spot of some bright object inside. When I discovered it was only a coin, I tried to throw it away. Yet it shone again, this time, lighting up a strange something. I was surprised to know that it was an abandoned train. And that was when the magic started.

   I was brought into somewhere, someplace I have never been into before. It looked peculiar. Strange. Eerie. And magical. And I am pretty sure this was not a part of Piterbern, the city I used to dwell in. The place certainly looked like something that came out from a book.

    I was in a boat, in a river? It seemed to me that I was in a tiny port. My boat was heading toward a wooden bridge from afar, bigger boats docked on the rocky sandline to my left, meanwhile I saw a vast dry land to my right. The crows were crying loud in the air, syncing with the noise of flowing water. And the sky showed me a darker orange sunset. There appeared to be a stone bulk in front of my eyes engraving letters on its flattened part. It was inked brown and it said, Kokoshi Port.

   So I was right after all? I was not in Piterbern.

   Kokoshi... where could that be?

   “Prince Sigmund?!”

   I was surprised to hear a thin loud voice, stuttering, echoing around the solemn atmosphere. It was a woman’s. She was wearing an old-style, yellow tent dress in orange checkered patterns. And she was carrying a weaved basket with red material inside, almost exactly like Little Red Riding Hood’s. 

   Initially, I creased my brows, for she was looking at me.

   “Prince Sigmund?! Where?” one asked in reply, looking everywhere.

   The lady pointed at me and said, almost whispered. “There...”

   Huh? What here?

   I looked behind me. A never ending land. She could not possibly be pertaining to something I could not see, right? So I looked down at my body.

   And what the hell...

   What are these?

   I was wearing weird clothings. A tunic with gold lacework and rich embroidery; a thicker-than-usual crimson cloak that clearly depicted high status; the belts were tightly holding my trousers in place; and my boots were dark leather, both coated with dried mud.

   I couldn’t see my entirety—I was not sure. But I think this indeed appeared to be a prince’s outfit.

   Why am I wearing these?

   I paddled my way toward solid ground. People hysterically helped me get off the boat, assisting me with care—as if I was something important. 

   The moment I stepped on the rich grass, I muttered, “I’m sorry for the trouble. Thank you so much.” And bowed my head low to them. Again, they agitatedly shook their heads and looked at me in panic.

   “It’s nothing, Your Majesty!” They seemed to be scared of me.

   Feeling weirded out, I turned my back to them, leaning toward the water again. I washed my face. The cold patch of it felt so nice against my skin. I closed my eyes before gently tapping my cheeks with water, refreshing myself.

   These people must have thought I’m a prince somewhere because of this outfit. I do not know where I got this but I should take this off, if only I had other clothes with me.

   “By any chance, do you know how I can get to Piterbern City?” I politely asked. “I think I’m lost.”

   I heard them start to faintly gossip behind me but I didn’t look back. I remained covering my face with wet palms, waiting for an answer.

   There was a rustle of leaves. I waited for seconds but received no response. Instead, these few people around me paid me a look of mixed woe and bewilderment.

   “What a disaster!” cried one old lady, slapping her own forehead. “The Prince had never been into this kind of tragedy before, even while on his most dangerous missions. The kingdom must’ve been so hard on him.”

   “Old lady Rumba, what is it?”

   “This young man…” She aimed at me. “It must be because of his latest venture that he’s got amnesia.”

   The people gasp. And the old lady continued. “How scary you must’ve been through. How poor, how sad this is.”

   “So that is why Your Majesty didn’t recognize this town...”

   “And even said something about a city that doesn’t exist!”

   Knotting my brows, I faced them. “Sorry, but I really don’t know what you are talking about.” I scratched my nape. “Despite what I’m wearing, I’m not a prince of some kingdom like you thought. I live in Piterbern and that place does exist. That is why I’m asking, could you help me get back there please? Or give me a map, at least.”

   They shook their heads at me and approached closer, holding both my arms tight. “We must let the kingdom know about this, this instant!”

   “Bring Your Majesty back to the castle!” one shouted back.

   “Hey, hey!” I protested. “Let go, what are you doing?”

   “Be careful, he might become a little aggressive since all he knows is that city he was talking about and not you.” The old lady reminded them once more. “Don’t worry Your Majesty, we won’t hurt you. Please, just go.”

   The guys clutching me were too buffy and strong—I could not even manage to move an inch. They dragged me forward to walk and I had no choice but follow or else I would hurt myself. I caught one last glimpse of the people behind and everyone was covering their lips, traces of surprise evident on their eyes.

   “Show this pass to Houlio Merto in the downtown, he will let you borrow horses so you won’t have to walk yourselves to the castle.” The old lady gave the men a piece of matcha-colored card. “Take care of Your Majesty.”

   “Yes, Ma’am!”

   What in the world are they thinking? I clearly said I am not the prince they are referring to.

   “Let go, I’m hurt!” I hissed again but all they let themselves do was loosen their grip atiny and continue to force me. I could not fight back.

   We followed the sloping path down to a small portion of the town. As much as I didn’t want to, I let them carry me through. On our way, the wind was starting to blow cold. The sky was turning black in contrast with the twinkles of stars. And I felt several shivers crawl up to my nape. These clothes sure look expensive but it doesn’t protect you so much from the cold.

   Nearing, I slowly heard low voices. A voice of a busy crowd—exactly like what I always hear in the market everyday. Torches began to light up the sight below, battling the darkness of the night.

   “Forgive us for treating you like this, Your Majesty.” The man on my right pardoned me. “We have to do this for your sake, and for the sake of the kingdom. We don’t want you to wander off the town again—given this situation.”

   I did not respond.

   “Worry not, Your Majesty. The queen must be waiting for you too.”

   I did not waste my energy to argue with them anymore. They said they would bring me to a castle. If I can’t talk these guys out, I’ll figure something out there—only if they were not spitting lies.

   Upon arriving at the bottom, I stayed quiet. I stepped on a wide brick pathway—which seemed to be the main road in this part of the town. Finally, they let go of me when they noticed I was no longer squirming. I tapped my feet on the ground, removing the dried mud from the sole of my shoes. When I adjusted myself, they gently pushed me forward again by my back. 

   The town was loud as we swam through. There were a lot of people sprinkled on the side of the road, talking, laughing. The ambiance felt warm. The houses were stone. A lot of posters were stuck wall to wall. And the street sure looked messy.

   “Please proceed here, Your Majesty.” They guided me to my left where the road intersected and I just followed. Some people appear to have noticed us yet ignored, for they were too drunk to recognize.

   We shifted on a smaller alley and stopped at a big sign above an entrance. Green Gallop Ranch. Smelled like horses, indeed.

   “What deal got you here, youngsters?” A low, gravelly calm, raspy voice asked. We glanced at the window and someone was wiping their stool, looking at us. It was an old man.

   “Pardon us for being here at this hour, Sir,” said the guy with me. “We are told to give you this.”

   They handed the card to him. 

   “Old lady Rumba’s.”

   The man looked at them for some long seconds before coming out the door. He was tall, not that buff. His hair was an uneven cut of shoulder-length silver strands. His beard was white. And he was wearing a black fedora, some tight black polo under suspenders and shiny slacks at the bottom, paired all together by a twin of brown leather shoes. He looked like a fifty-year-old horse-dealer.

   He accepted the matcha-colored card and stared down at it. “How many do you need?”

   “Just two, sir. Please.”

   I felt confused. “Two? What about mine?”

   The old man looked at me. And for some reason, it felt like he just stabbed me with his eyes. It was too sharp and powerful. “Is he your company?” he asked the guys.

   “Yes. He is, Sir. That is Prince Sigmund, son of the king. He just came back from his mission and something came up. That is why we need to hurry him to the castle.”

   “Oh, that arrogant brat.” He snorted. And I was caught off guard. He sounded so sarcastic and uninterested. Does he hate the prince they talked about? “Go get it at the rear, quick. Or I’ll put charges,” he said and turned back, gulping down the liquor from his flask. I gave him one last look, as if examining him before leaving. 

   We followed to the back of the store and they unhooked two horses. “You must go with me, Your Majesty. It’s dangerous for you to drive alone. You might end up at the side of the road.”

   Wow, how dare they underestimate me? I have ridden a horse before at eight!

   “I will guard your backs. Go hop in, Your Majesty.”

   They drove past downtown in a pace of wind. People made their way upon seeing us. The fire of the torches by the roadside danced as we galloped ahead, indicating speed. It was not long when we progressed hundreds of meters away from the noisy town. I could barely see their faces now.

   Then we passed by a quiet street this time. I could only hear the racketing of the horses’ feet on the brick pathway. I turned to my side, until I saw a series of huge glass window panes, brightly lit by the torches on each of its sides. And... I was startled to see myself being reflected.

   It was only for a split second but I’m certain about what I saw. I groped my face in daze.

   This face—this body indeed… is not mine.

***

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