The children in the village had nowhere to go—after all, they were just babies. No one wanted to care for them. People whispered, avoided them. Some even feared that one day the village would be destroyed because of them.
And how did they know that?
Because seven branches fell from a tree.
Because one of the old hexes believed it was a sign.
And in this village, belief was as strong as truth.
The babies were left with no one—until a widow named Sarah Martin, who had lost her own child in a tragic accident along with her husband, chose to care for them. Silently. Secretly.
Even though she was terrified of them.
Even though, at times, she wanted to burn them, kill them even.
But her heart was louder than her fear.
And the heart overpowered the mind.
For five years, she kept them hidden. She raised them. She taught them....she kept them safe.
not because she fooled the villagers. No—people had their suspicions. But they thought she was sneaking off to meet some man in secret. Why else would she take the long road out of the village just to buy things she could easily get nearby?
they didn't know she was buying kids stuff.
Sarah Martin's only mistake was not giving the children names.
She didn't want to grow too close, even though she already had.
She felt like naming them would be stepping over a line she wasn't allowed to cross.
But the children—now five years old—wanted more.
They wanted to see the streets. To meet people.
Not from behind a curtain. Not through a window.
And then came the fatal mistake:
The door opened and the children were running to the streets.
And just like that, the village discovered:
They were alive.
and all of that... because the house were on fire.
....
The children and Sarah, their wrists tightly bound with ropes, were dragged forward to stand before someone they had never seen before.
Sarah, her voice shaking, asked, "Who are you?"
The figure smiled—cold, almost amused—and replied,
"I am everyone's hope, dream, and misery. I am a thought that shines in both light and darkness. I am justice and injustice . I am the beginning and the end.
You see, nothing can truly explain who I am—and a mere name would never suffice.
But if you must call me something… call me
Blasphemy."
The children watched Sarah's face twist with fear. Six of them burst into tears. One stood confused, only cried because the others did.
Blasphemy chuckled darkly. "Oh, that reaction... lovely. Perhaps I'll show a little mercy."
Suddenly, a group of about ten figures, all dressed in black robes—unidentifiable as man or woman—
shouted :
"Blasphemy"
Blasphemy grinned. "Now you see where I got the name."
Blasphemy: So, Sarah... what, and why?
Sarah, confused: "I don't understand."
Blasphemy: What did you name the six children? And why did you take them?
Sarah:"I didn't name th—"
The robed group suddenly shouted in unison:
"Blasphemy!"
Blasphemy:"I want to believe you... but tell me, how could that be true?"
Sarah, panicked: "I just... I couldn't name them. I don't think I have what it takes to define someone's identity."
Blasphemy:"Perhaps you're right... maybe you're even less than that. But a name doesn't define a person—it's just a word.
So why, then?"
Sarah:"I... I don't know."
The group:"Blasphemy!"
Blasphemy:"Then you won't see the light until you have an answer."
He raised a hand, signaling to the group.
They approached without a word and dragged Sarah and the children away—separating them.
Sarah was taken left.
The children were taken right.
It was the first time they had been apart from her in over a month.
Sarah had always told them the world was unfair... cruel... unjust.
But from her, they only knew warmth, and love, and the comfort of her smile.
So they believed the whole world must be like her.
Then five months passed.
The children were barely surviving—fed just enough to stay alive.
They grew thin. Fragile.
Then, in the sixth month, they were brought again before Blasphemy.
And there...
they saw her.
The woman they once thought of as a mother.
But she wasn't looking at them.
Six months was enough time to turn love into even hate perhaps.....
mybe she had a long time to reflect on her auction on....
why would she wanna care for a misfortune that will destroy the village.
That would've been the truth....
if it weren't
for her ripped shirt,
for the teeth she'd lost,
for the bruises on her face,
and the blood that covered her.
to be continued.....