A Warrior's Reverie

He didn't know how to fly before. 

Yet, he was flying, speeding across the band of stars, basking in the moonlight, above a place that was born straight out of a child's blissful fairytale. He was flying above a world that he had fallen in love with in an instant. 

He didn't know how to fly before because he didn't have the necessary equipment. But now, he had wings like that of a big healthy bird's, feathery and whole. He could see them from the corners of his eyes, and hence he came to the conclusion that he was a bird, a creature that he used to adore. 

He didn't mind being a bird at all, but he felt as though he did not deserve to be one. He couldn't remember anything from the past, anything at all that had happened to him, except for the fact that the place he was from was chaotic and cruel. And that he too, used to be one of the creatures that lurked below on the ground. 

He thought he had hated those creatures. But now, he had fallen in love with them too. 

They were different from what he used to know them being. They never set boundaries between their lands. They would travel from one land to another at ease, without stealing each other's property or causing ruckus. They loved one another to the fullest. They were kind and brave and worked as a team in defending themselves from natural disasters. They did not know how to make enemies; they only knew how to make friends. 

They were kind to the other creatures coexisting with them. They treated them as equals and never hurt them. 

There was no rich or poor. Everyone was the same. There was no bloodshed. There was no killing. In fact, there was no existence of such concepts. 

No matter where he flew, he saw those creatures were happy and at peace. The world was an impossible place where nothing but the good existed. 

But such a perfect world could only exist in dreams, and he was right. He knew it as soon as he felt his feathers turning into ashes.

In a split second, his body of a bird was crushed to bits. His past form started recreating itself, and as soon as he was brought to true consciousness, he felt a terrible pang of pain in his chest. He could sense blood gushing out of wounds here and there. 

"HEY!" someone shouted, "Are you daydreaming? Wake up! This is no time to space out. Fight the enemies!" 

That's right. He was a warrior, not some innocent bird. His blood-stained sword lay beside him. 

He grabbed it and charged on. 

For the sake of his dream. 

The writer, aged 17, is a student of Viqarunnisa Noon College, Dhaka.