Rilla Sree the Free

Rilla was never told how special she was. Her family wasn’t rich; in fact, they were far from it. Her parents and older brother worked in the town, doing various jobs, since they weren’t allowed to leave Greece. That was part of the curse the goddess Aphrodite had placed on her father: their bodies could never leave the town in which he was born. They made the most of it, though, living as far out in town limits as possible. She was schooled a little, but was mainly expected to keep the house up --a job she didn’t exactly enjoy.

Rilla Sree felt about as average as could be while sitting by her family's house one day, skipping stones across the road, awaiting her father's return.

These events were basically what had befallen her all day, and she sighed with boredom, wishing she were brave enough to go into town and join the other youths in a game.

"Sigh, sigh, sigh. What, young lady, are we sighing about on such a beautiful day?" a strange, creaky voice asked, approaching where the young girl sat. Rilla looked up to take notice of an elderly man, who walked hunched over, a great burden on his back.

"Hello, Sir," Rilla smiled cheerfully, momentarily forgetting her earlier complaining. "Here, have a rest, good sir. Let me get your burden for you. Would you fancy a drink?"

The man did as he was bid, sitting slowly on a large rock, his joints creaking loudly as he did so.

"Yes, yes," he breathed heavily. "I believe a drink would be nice. These bones, I'm afraid, aren't as strong as they use to be."

Rilla hurriedly retrieved a jug of water from the house and handed it to the man, smiling politely. She took a seat on the ground beside the boulder and waited patiently as the man drank his fill of the cool liquid. By the amount his frail body consumed, she guessed it had been a while since his thirst was quenched.

The man pulled the jug from his mouth and looked gratefully at the girl beside him.

"Thank you, my dear. That was quite refreshing."

Rilla nodded and took the jug from him, setting it gently on the ground beside her.

"Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?" she asked politely. At the shake of his head, she sat back and crossed her legs. The man looked at her eager face curiously.

"Is there maybe something I could do for you?" he asked.

Rilla didn't say a word; her parents, if anything, had taught her manners.

"Go on, tell me."

Rilla thought a moment, then asked softly, "Well, sir, I would feel very honored if you could tell me a story."

"Do you think me a bard?" the old man chuckled, his face crinkling up to look like a sun-dried grape.

"Well, sir, anybody can tell a story," Rilla replied, then clamped a hand over her mouth at her rudeness.

The man chuckled again, a warm laughter than seemed to wrap around Rilla, and assured her, "It's all right, young one. Speak your mind. It's about time someone did. Now, what was it you wanted? Oh yes, a story."

Rilla nodded excitedly, adjusting slightly to make herself more comfortable on the grassy ground.

"I could tell you a story, I suppose," he contemplated out loud. "If you would answer me three questions, that is."

Slightly confused, Rilla nodded her head. She was always a curious little girl, and would do next to anything to hear a story.

"Ofcourse, sir. I will answer your questions the best I can," she replied.

"All right, then. Number one: how many blades of grass are there in Greece?"

Rilla's face scrunched up in confusion as she tried to understand what the old man was talking about, and what exactly it had to do with a story. Instead of questioning the man, though, she thought as hard as she could.

"Nobody can know, except for the Gods. Only a God can know the amount that is no amount at all, for every time someone takes a step, a hundred of their number are crushed, and every time the dew leaves its traces in the early dawn, a hundred of their number are restored," she finally replied, trying her best to explain her answer to such a confusing question.

Without commenting on her answer, the man asked, "Number two: how long does it take the rain to return to the heavens?"

"Only the Gods can know that, too, for the time varies. One drop of rain may decide to hurry back to its home in the sky. Another, though, might rather stay on the ground and soak into the soil, only to feed a daisy or a rose. One cannot assign all drops of rain a curfew, for each drop travels at its own pace," she answered quickly, remembering when she was little and had daydreamed about the life of a raindrop. At the time, she had found the idea of falling freely from the heavens, with nothing holding her, to land safely on the ground fascinating.

"And number three," the elderly man finished. "When the sun has finished his trek across the sky, where does he lie to sleep?"

The question caused Rilla to gaze upward, where the reliable disk of light hung high above, casting its rays of warmth downwards towards the earth.

"The sun does not lie," she replied, "for his job is never done. When he does not shine on the people, he is busy shining inside them."

Her answer to this question seemed to catch the elderly man by surprise, for he looked at her with awe. His brilliant grey eyes widened and a glint of something Rilla couldn't recognize seemed to jump out at her.

"Tell me, Rilla Sree, why is it you sit out here alone, rather than among your peers?" the elderly asked.

Rilla thought of a quick retort, feeling slightly touchy on the subject, but surpressed it. Insulting the elderly would not please her father.

"I am waiting for my father," she replied, not recognizing the fact that she had never told the elderly man her name. "I have nothing in common with my peers. They are beautiful or athletic or talented in song. I am merely myself."

The elderly man's face wrinkled up again, this time in thought, before he spoke, "Tell me, Rilla Sree. What is it you desire to be?"

This caught Rilla by surprise. Never had anyone asked her about her daydreams. In fact, the only time she had ever mentioned the fantasies that took place in her head, Father had quickly shoved them down, scolding her for letting her mind wander.

"I..." she began, "well..."

She gazed up at the sun again, as if gaining her answer from the glowing orb.

"I have no desire for what I am, because I find that the body your spirit is in makes no difference. But I desire to have that which for I yearn."

The man smiled a magnificent grin, and urged, "What is it that you desire?"

"I desire freedom," Rilla said slowly, cautiously, as if testing the old man's reaction to her answer. He only watched curiously, so she continued, "I wish to fly free, devoid of my binds and burdens. I yearn for all of Greece to be my courtyard, where I am allowed to think and say what I choose, without hindrance."

Rilla was becoming excited now, rising from her seated position to move around.

"I want the freedom of...choice!...to be at my fingertips," she smiled. Hearing a chuckle from the old man, she stopped twirling to look at him.

"Oh," she sighed, ashamed. "I'm sorry. Now is when you tell me to stop being such a foolish child, right?"

"No, no," the man chuckled still. "Now is when I thank you for your kindness and wisdom."

The smile left Rilla's face and she stared at the man in confusion.

"I beg your pardon?"

"For being such a spirited, polite young girl, I thank you," the man continued, “but I’m afraid I must part company with you. I apologize that I was not able to tell you a story, but I have miles to go before I sleep.”

Arising from his rock, the elderly man stood slowly, his joints creaking again at the movement.

"Now, dear, I am off," he informed a very confused Rilla. "Don’t let anyone break your spirit. Remember that feet don’t always have to be on the ground."

Rilla could only nod dumbly and mutter a ‘good-bye’ as she watched the old man, whom she thought bore a slight personality resemblance to the goddess Athena she had heard her Father speak of, amble of into the distance.

"That was rather odd," she murmured, then shook her head. Looking towards the city, she saw a lone figure coming towards her, sitting on top of a horse-drawn cart.

"Father!" she cried happily, then ran towards the work-worn man.

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The next day, several of the town youth visited the Sree house, only to find it empty.

"That's strange," one of them commented, glancing at the house where she was sure the Srees had lived the day before. "I wonder where they could have gone to in such a hurry."

“And I thought they couldn’t leave here. My father said that Goddess Aphrodite put a curse on her father for not marrying her, and they couldn’t leave,” another added. “So how could they go?”

"Look!" one called out, pointing to a small butterfly. The insect was a brilliant blue, with back and red spots dotting the wings, and as she sat idly on a rock the youth all gathered round to look.

"Isn't it the most beautiful thing you ever saw?"

There were nods, 'ooh's, and 'ah's, as the butterfly fluttered its wings, then lifted up to join three others similar to it, and prance off, dancing freely on the breeze.

"Oh, let's catch it!" one called, and they lit off after the free-roaming spirit, the tiny loner who could claim Greece as her own, never truly understanding that because of her kindness and spirit, the little trapped girl was now the most free of them all.

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Written for 9th grade English class; assignment was to make up a myth.

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