I never really questioned stuff like that. I realized at that moment, that nobody knew me to begin with in this world. If I really die, it would be as if I never existed to begin with. If I believe Sheph as to what happens to the rebels when they die, I will also be a “Hero” that will be remembered someday. But will that day ever come? I didn’t know at that time.

  Sheph spoke with an unfazed face, “Why are you standing there? Come. Lie down.” He didn’t look at me this time. He was looking at the night sky. I get my thoughts straightened and go forward. After reaching Sheph, I slowly lie down to his right.

  Sheph was silent, I was silent, the graves; or rather the markers were all silent. The world was silent too. But the air made all the noise and thanks to that, The silence was filling, not empty.

  After about twenty seconds or so of me lying down, Sheph started to tell a tale. A tale about some sheep. Sheph spoke,

  “Once upon a time, there was a man who owned three different tribes of sheep. White, Brown and Black.

  The man wanted to only keep one tribe of sheep but it was hard to choose which one. So in an experiment of his own making, he wanted to get rid of sheep without the tribes knowing there were three different tribes to begin with. Thus, he put each sheep tribe in different farms.

  So as the sheep that knew of other colored sheep existed were sold or died, their later generation didn’t know of the other two tribe’s existence. They all thought the world was just the farm they lived in and they were the only sheep that existed in the world. The man thought, now that the sheep didn’t know of other sheep tribes existed, he can keep one without the other two knowing.

  But some sheep of the first generation knew of the other sheep’s existence were still alive. They thought that if the man wants to kill two tribes and keep one, they might be one of them. So they built a rebellion. They told select few sheep the story of other sheep and they might be killed. So each generation of sheep a leader was formed to lead the herd and escape the farm.” Sheph stopped for a moment.

  “You know? One sheep can lead the whole herd astray. You don’t need to make every sheep follow you as a shepherd. You just need one sheep that the herd follows,” Sheph said with a half smile that resembled sadness.

  I don’t know why he’s telling me this story but I already know this story. My mom used to tell this story to me. My dad also sometimes told it to me. I say nothing and wait for Sheph to continue.

  A small pause later, Sheph continued the story with alteration to the version of story I knew,

  “The sheep tried running away but the man’s trained dog stopped them every time. After many generations, only few of the sheep knew of other sheep existence and the rest of the herd were unaware of it.

  The sheep thought if they couldn’t escape the man, they need to be the one to kill him before he kills them. So they planned an assault and the leader sheep lead them astray. He didn’t mean to. But the result was the leader died along with the rebellion herd.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  If the leader walked away from the scene, the herd would have followed. But he insisted on finishing the job. The herd followed.”

  Saying that he looked at the marker to his left namely, Khaled’s marker. He continued,

  “Khaled was a leader. He led people to a mission that even you know of. When they were losing and escape was the only option, he made a blunder and told everyone to leave while he distracts the government.

  That made his followers stay with him to help him and they all died and their bodies were reportedly thrown in the sea.” After saying this story, Sheph stopped speaking and closed his eyes. He didn’t say anything.

  I thought I heard this somewhere before. The story felt familiar, but not from childhood. Something more recent.

  Then it clicked.

  The terrorist attack. Four? Five years ago? The government had broadcast it on every screen. "Dangerous insurgents eliminated." I remembered the footage. Bodies being catapulted into the sea. The ceremonial dumping at sea. "Denied proper burial for their crimes against the world."

  I watched it. I believed it.

  Now I know those were Khaled's people.

  My stomach turned. I realized at that moment that Sheph wasn’t lying about no remains of bodies are left behind when they die here!

  And the government called them terrorists.

  And I am enlisted in a terrorist organization! The words escaped before I could stop it. "So are you guys terrorists?"

  The moment I said it, I regretted it. But I needed to know.

  Sheph looked at me. Surprised. Then he laughed.

  Not mockingly. Just... tired laughter. The kind that says

  "You still believe the government's words?" He shook his head. "Hear that Khaled? I told you he really was an ignorant fool. I’ll tell this to Mason later. He’d probably burst into laughter." I understood I was still affected by the government’s lies. Of course the government would label anyone against their lies a terrorist!

  I was slightly relieved. I wasn’t in some shady organization. But a proper rebellion that jump head first to destroy the government. It made me happy.

  But I remembered that I also heard similar story from my parents. So I asked Sheph about it, “Hey Sheph.” He murmured, “Hmmm?”, as if to say I asked, “I also heard the same story of the sheep from my parents. But the ending was different.

  They said that some of the original sheep betrayed the rebel sheep thinking siding with the owner and telling him about the rebel will make them favorable in his eyes. So they sided with the owner. And so the owner killed the rebel sheep.” Hearing that, Sheph looked at me and said, “Makes sense. They were your parents after all.”

  I didn't understand what he meant. Why would my parents telling me a different version have anything to do with them being MY parents specifically?

  I wanted to ask. But Sheph was already standing up, dusting off his pants.

  "Are you planning to sleep here?," he said. "It's late. Tomorrow's going to be a long day."

  I followed him back through the graveyard. Thousands of markers. Thousands of forgotten names.

  I didn't know it yet, but by the time I understood what Sheph meant that night, most of these markers would have been erased. I wish I wrote their names somewhere.

  They truly are the unnamed forgotten heroes.