The Village That Spoke Without Words
Once, there was a peculiar village named Sandor in the far corners of the world. It was a village unlike any other for its inhabitants interacted not with words, but through colors. No language or dialect lined their tongues. It was a spot where speech remained alien, and colors did the talking—vivid blue for joy, a solemn grey for sorrow, bright yellow for happiness, and fiery red for anger.
The village buzzed with a myriad of hues every day, canvasing a living, colorful sonnet. Situated at the foot of the mighty Tralendor mountains and besetting the serene Lacrusa Lake, Sandor was a captivating spectacle from afar.
The villagers, 'Sandorians', were born normal like rest of us, speech intact and hearing primed. However, tradition demanded that upon their third birthday, a ceremony would take place. At the heart of Sandor, next to the Lake, a statue of Solara, the ancient Sun Goddess, stood tall. It was believed that Solara had gifted the Sandorians the language of colors. The toddler was presented before the statue, where the village elder painter, known as 'Color Master', would touch their tongue with a brush dipped in divine nectar, a secret potion known only to him. Following this, the young one would only perceive and communicate in colors for the rest of their lives.
The Color Master inherited his rank not by hereditary line but by a test of understanding and expressing the deepest emotions purely through colors. The current Color Master was an elderly sage named Caelum. Caelum's colors were legendary, for he conveyed emotions so complex that it needed a palette of colors instead of a single one.
Life in Sandor was unique, and yet, the human heart, being human, still longed for words. Words, for the stories untold, for the love that wished to be whispered, for the comfort they could bring in lullabies. So when young Caela, just turned thirteen, expressed her desire to experience words, it was met with dread and sympathy.
Growing up, Caela had heard tales of lands beyond Sandor that spoke not in colors but in some strange phenomenon known as words. Bakos, a foreigner who'd come to their lands thirty winters ago, spoke of these strange lands to Caela. He shared his tales not with colors but through miming, using signs that Caela had come to understand.
Armed with determination, and Bakos guidance, Caela decided to embark on a journey to lands afar, chasing words, language, and lore. The village was apprehensive, but Caela's vivid orange aura—symbolizing courage—inspired awe and admiration. After a heartfelt farewell that saw the village awash with radiant violet—an emotion of deep love combined with small traces of fear—Caela left for her unique adventure.
Months rolled by, and the day came when Caela heard words for the first time, a maiden in the foreign land helping her understand the strange sounds. The journey had finally borne fruit. She was jubilant, yet something was missing. She found that the words, though potent and dynamic, seemed much colder without her colors. They were clinical, detached, and scrambled, unable to mirror the raw potency and emotional depth colors brought her.
With a heart filled with newfound wisdom, she returned to Sandor. The village was awash with golden hues of anticipation waiting for the prodigal daughter. The colors that danced around Caela now were not merely simple hues soothing to the eyes, but also echoes of human spirit that words failed to capture. Caela's journey to discover words had ultimately led her back to her colors, to Sandor, to home, but with an enriched heart and soul, understanding the depth of her colors more than ever before.