Long-Fiction | The World's Strongest Man

The rumor about the world's strongest man started when a group of young boys wandered through the woods located in the outskirts of town. Huge trees populated the forest and little light came through from the thick canopy high above. Distant bird calls and mysterious animal rustles were the only thing that could be heard in it. The civilization of the town was from another world. The young boys were teasing each other and testing their courage in the woods when they felt the ground shaking. Wild animals scurried around their legs, running away from the vibration. The boys were the only ones who moved further down the epicenter. It felt like an earthquake, but it's a much stranger sensation. They thought that the forest was moving. The young boys were reminded of the tale their grandparents told them about that forest, that it could uproot itself and move about. The tallest and largest tree that stood above the rest was said to be a god. And if he wished to, he could will the trees to vacate and walk away. The younger boys thought that the forest was about to move again and it would take them away. They were about to take off and follow the wild animals if it was not for the oldest of the group, their leader, who urged them on. With quiet, little movements, they walked to the source where the tremors became more rhythmic. Three strong beats followed by a loud thud. It was like a heartbeat. It was the god's heartbeat, they thought. Curiously, as they got closer, the sunlight became brighter. Finally, they heard a man's deep, gruff voice, groaning and moaning. They were hiding from a distance, but they could see it clearly. Three strong beats on the ground was the three times the man tugged a tree trunk off of the ground. And a loud thud when the man threw the uprooted tree to the forest floor. He was bathed with the sunlight that flowed from the opening in the canopy. His biceps bulged from the sleeveless shirt he was wearing and his legs sank deep in the ground. Five trees were laid on the space behind him. The young boys couldn't believe what they saw. It was the god of the forest, they all thought. And when the man looked at their direction, even if they're a good distance away, they ran.

The story about the god of the forest spread like wildfire. Many scoffed it off, saying it was nothing but a child's imaginative tale. While others, supported it with claims of their own. They did feel that tremor when they were in the forest, some people said. But they were too scared to see it through. Curious minds created groups and clans and they scheduled visits to the forest. However, when the night came, most of these excursions were futile and they got out of the forest exhausted and disappointed.

A group of educated young men and women finally saw the spectacle. They didn't feel the tremors, but they did saw a cabin in the middle of the woods. Outside was a man chopping firewood. They threaded the distance between them and the man lightly, because they thought it was strange for someone to live in a mysterious forest by himself. The tremors then began—three beats and a thud. And they saw that the man chopping woods had wedged his axe on the stump and had started uprooting a tree. They were astounded. Nobody dared move or breathe as they stared with their mouths agape. One of the men was the first to move and he walked towards the god of the forest. He brought with him fruits that he planned to eat on the journey. His movements were slow and wary and he stopped a few feet away from the stump. He laid the fruits on the ground and trudged backwards. When the god noticed, the man froze.

“What is this?” the god asked, his voice thunderous.

The man was speechless, both his tongue and legs could not move. Until a woman stepped in and said, “An offering. To you.” She stood beside the man and held his hand. He could almost feel his knees unbuckling itself and his whole body on the ground.

“An offering? What am I, a god?” His laughter was roaring, too. It was, however, not cynical. It was a real chuckle. “I am not a god.”

“Then, what are you?” the man shouted when he finally gained the strength to speak.

The god fetched the fruits from the ground and looked at the couple closest and to the group hiding behind the shadows. “I'm just like you.” He turned back and walked towards his cabin.


Tourists flocked the forest after that. They came bearing gifts and offerings which the god warmly accepted. He moved about his usual chores to the amazement of the people around him. Some threw coins after every tree being uprooted. Some whoopped when he brought a giant trunk down. People from bigger towns and cities carried their horses down the forest to witness this remarkable act. Journalists and writers brought their pens and papers to write about the so-called god of the forest.

His story was as amazing as his skill, they found out. He and his father and his father's father were all born with such great strength. As a toddler, he divulged, he could carry his huge pet dog and as a young boy, his mother. When the townspeople heard about their strengths, they were banished, thinking that they were disciples of evil. They walked until they reached the forest and had lived there since. Both his parents had died when an earthquake had caused their home to crash down on them. His aging father couldn't keep the walls up. He was away then, uprooting trees for firewood. He had lived in solitary after that.

Journalists liked asking him the question “Where did your immense strength come from?” It was during this query when he would smile to himself, shyly and rarely. Every time, he did that. And every time, he would answer: “I don't know where or how my father or his father or his father's father got it, but I got mine from Heaven.” The crowd went ooh and ahh every time, as well. They were touched by the man's humility, owing his skill to the Almighty God in Heaven.

When dusk came, everyone were already gone. They were still afraid to get lost in the forest. Nobody dared staying the night, except for the man who lived there. He gathered the gifts he received and went inside the cabin. Waiting for him there was another man. He was sitting by the fire, reading a book. “Are they gone?” the man inside asked. The strong man locked the door behind him, put the fruits and jewelries and coins on the dining table, and walked towards the sitting man. He sat with his legs crossed and the book closed on his lap with a bookmark. He tried stilling his shaking hands above the book, but it didn't stop. The strong man knelt in front of him and held his hands still. He asked again, with equally shaky lips: “Are they gone?” The strong man smiled and said, “Yes, they're gone.” The other man smiled back, his eyes orange by the fire. The strong man held his face and brushed his hair. They both like it when he did that. The other man was handsome, all rounds and curves, countering the strong man's sharp features. He was lankier and thinner, though, and could clearly not carry even a stack of wood. But he didn't need to as the strong man would carry his world for him. The strong man kissed the other man deeply and his lips stopped quivering. He looked at the man who he swore to protect and who he swore to carry, support, and take care of forever. He looked at Heaven and he felt, for the first time that day, that he was the strongest man in the world.