The legend of the Guardians

"As you probably know, everything comes from something else. Everything has an origin, a beginning, if you will, and Canvas was no exception. Canvas began with three spirts, wandering the black merciless void of space. They stayed with each other, for protection, company, or maybe some strange combination of the two. The three of them, together, had enough energy and power to create a very large round rock.

"'Now what's so special about a rock?,' I can hear you asking. Well, there is a very special thing about this rock. You would probably call this rock a planet.

"After creating this planet, the spirits materialized into three physical forms. They stayed together, eventually creating a language. They named the planet Canvas, since it was theirs to develop and create.

"The longer the three where on the planet, the more their power seemed to develop. They developed, what you would probably call 'elemental powers'. They made up names for themselves to differentiate between the group, Noja being the one bearing water powers, Kirp, the air powers, and Klyptorian with fire.

"They soon found that these powers were much more than they seemed. Noja quickly created spanning oceans across Canvas, where they caught fish to eat, Kirp, a soft wind to keep them cool in the day, and Klyptorian, a large fire to keep them warm at night.

"They soon found that, when working together, they could create life. They started small with trees and grass, and eventually created us, the Canvas people. They called themselves The Guardians, vowing to use their ever-growing power to protect us.

"And that's just what they did. For centuries the Three Guardians worked together to rule Canvas. But one day Klyptorian got selfish. He decided to try to take over Canvas by killing the other two Guardians. Now, of course, Kirp and Noja were very strong, and with their powers together, they managed to stop Klyptorian. In fact, they not only stopped Klyptorian; they stunted his powers. Instead of continuously developing, his powers were stopped in their tracks, staying the same forever. He fled, weakened, swearing to have revenge on Noja and Kirp."

"Grandpa, did he ever come back?," a small child asked from a cot in a dank dark dirty bedroom.

The grandfather, who was sitting in an old mangled chair looked to his granddaughter, "Yes, Malati. I'm afraid so. Through I'm worried you might not be old enough to handle the entire story."

"I'm old enough!," the girl cried, desperate for the rest of the story.

"Well, okay. But if you get scared it's your own fault," the grandfather said jokingly, "It was fifty years before Klyptorian was heard from again. In those fifty years, Klyptorian had gained quite a following of Canvas people, who were fed up with being ruled by the guardians. Klyptorian promised power to his followers, and he delivered. One of his developed powers he hadn't lost was the ability to give his powers to others. The Eternal Flame was born, and after those fifty years, it was Klyptorian leading it into battle.

"He captured Kirp and Noja, using his remaining abilities to drain them of their power, torturing them every step of the way. He locked them up, taking any power they somehow managed to produce."

"But Grandpa," Malati said, "this isn't real right? It's just a story."

The grandfather continued on his story without answering the child's question, "Klyptorian built a huge, towering palace. He made himself King of Canvas, finding a beautiful young girl to be his queen."

"Grandpa, are you saying..?"

"They had a daughter, Princess Persisti, who they locked up in the palace away from their citizens. They took the families who didn't support Klyptorian and the Eternal Flame in to be their slaves, including ours. This is why you don't have a mother or father Malati. I hate to tell you this, I really do, but anyone who resisted the Eternal Flame was executed. Your mother and father were very brave, and they fought with everything they had, just so you might have a chance at a better life."

"Our King is the evil Guardian from the story?"

"Yes."

The girl began to cry.

"Why did you tell me this awful story?!," she wailed, tears streaming down her face.

"I'm dying Malati. I don't have much time left here. I want you to know what kind of monsters we're working for, so, if you want to, you can be brave like your parents."

The girl ran away that night. She surprisingly wasn't caught. She thrived off the land, like the Guardians did when they lived in harmony with each other. That kind of living brought her peace she had never known.

The girl in this story isn't just any girl. She was me, seven years ago. The rest of the Canvas, including the king, have all left. They moved to a different planet for resources, leaving me to my life of solitude. The legend my grandfather told me that day still haunts me. I know I'm a coward for running, but I wanted nothing to do with someone so willing to destroy innocent families. I get lonely sometimes, but I'm happy to say, anything's better than being forced into slavery. I have no regrets.