The Nameless Village
“He who has a why to live can bear almost any how.” – Friedrich Nietzsche
The traveler awoke lying on the cold ground, in the middle of a silent forest. Sunlight pierced through the treetops, striking his eyes and dragging him back into consciousness.He didn’t know how he got there. He remembered nothing about the journey—but he remembered where he had come from. And that was enough to make his chest feel heavy.
Still dizzy, he stood up and followed a narrow path through the trees until he reached the top of a small hill. From there, he saw it: a village—tiny, quiet, made of only a handful of houses.
At the entrance, a woman washed clothes in a wooden basin. She didn’t notice him. The traveler kept walking until he reached a well where an old villager with simple clothes and a thick mustache was drawing water.
The man looked at him with a warm smile and said:
“There is goodness in all of us. Seek it, and you will find it.”
The traveler froze. Something twisted painfully inside him.In his mind, a thought burst out, sharp and bitter:
“There is none left in me.If he knew what I’ve done… what I carry… he would never say that.”
Out loud, he only managed to say:
“I know where I came from… but I do not know where I’m going.”
The villager placed the bucket down and turned to leave.
“Wait—don’t go!” the traveler called.
“I cannot help you,” the villager replied. “I am not Him, the one who can. I have other duties. But keep searching.It will be difficult… but you will find what you seek.”
Confused and restless, the traveler went deeper into the village. Children were playing near a fountain. He approached them.
“What is the name of this village?” he asked.
A boy answered politely:
“Good day, sir. The village has no name… none that we know of. Why do you ask?”
The traveler lowered his gaze. A long, heavy sigh escaped him.
“Because I have no place of my own… no purpose… no meaning in life.”
The children exchanged glances. One of them stepped forward, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out five gold coins and placed them in the traveler’s hand.
“Take them. They’ll help you.”
Then another child pointed toward the far edge of the settlement.
“There’s a wise man living by the lake. He teaches travelers. He might help you. Go to the lake at the end of the village.”
The traveler followed the dirt path. But by the time he reached the lake, the sun had already set. The wise man was gone. A cold sadness settled in his chest.
He headed back toward the village through a narrow stone path… and suddenly stopped.
Ten maidens dressed in brown robes, hoods over their heads, each carrying a burning candle, walked in a long silent procession. Their faces were calm—almost holy.
One of them stepped in front of him.
“What are you doing here? Didn’t you hear? It is the Calling. Hurry!”
Bewildered, he joined their line, saying nothing. They walked together for a while until a sharp realization hit him:
“What am I doing? I don’t even have a candle…And this isn’t my path. I’m looking for my purpose.This is only a distraction.”
He stepped away from the group.The wind blew cold across the nameless village. Night had fully fallen.
He knocked on the door of a small stone house and asked the owner for shelter.He paid with the five gold coins and lay down on a straw mattress.
Sleep took him instantly.
But the next day…something dark, mysterious, and sinister was waiting for him.
