“What is your saddest story to tell weary traveller.” asked the bartender to the me, the man who was staring at the table.

“I failed.” I said as I groggily looked up.

“Excuse Me?”

“I failed. I was the chosen one and I let them down.” I whisper

The memories begin to flood back like a broken dam. Sudden, and unexpected.

“It was like it was only yesterday.” I whisper

“You were the chosen one?” The bartender whispered

“Yes.” I barely choke out

My reply is greeted with a hateful smack to the face. I turn and fall off the barstool.

“Because of you Chosen One! We’re all going to die” he cries emphasizing the word chosen

Everyone in the bar slowly begins to turn around.

“Wait he was the chosen one?” A voice asks

“Yes indeed.” Says the Bartender

“Was it really that hard just to marry Lord Visigoth’s daughter, I heard she’s very pretty.”

“I was scared.” I spit out

“Get out of my bar you coward!” Screams the bartender

I pick myself up and head out.

“Was it really that hard to just marry her?”