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I was born into a cult. Named Evan Hawk, From the moment I was born, I was told the Hat is the most important thing in my life. It will be what I will strive for. It will make me a god.

I decided to be useful, figuring I would be gifted a Hat for my troubles, and set about tending the sheep.

I grew up, learning new skills and finding my way in the world, until one day, I saw a murder. No one was opposed to it aside from one man, who asked why those children, my friends and comrades, had had to die. The answer? They had no Hats.

Panicking, I decided I would make a Hat of my own. I had never done this before, had no idea of how to do it, but decided to figure it out. My life depended on it. I got far enough to have a ball of string and yarn, almost ready to combine them and then frantically knit myself a Hat, when an older woman came along. She had a Hat.

She was dying, and, I, desperate, asked for her Hat. She agreed, and gave it to me. She died soon after, and my profuse thanks were acknowledged with a quick ‘np.’ I was safe. But there were so many babies around, unHatted and in danger. I then knew what my life would be devoted to. I finished the Hat I had been making before, and now my sheep tending had new meaning.

The first child I gifted a Hat to said simply, “now I’m cool too!” She did not understand the peril I had experienced, the trauma of seeing my friends killed for lacking a Hat, but that was okay. At least she was safe.

I continued making Hat after Hat for many years, gifting them all to people around me. A man who must be nearing his execution, a desperate mother with a new baby, my younger sister, who unfortunately starved soon after. And then I saw her.

A woman passed, dropping a baby off on the ground. I called out for the mother to stop, and asked around as to whose baby this was. But time was growing short for the little girl, and I carried her over to the berry bushes in fear. I could not feed her myself, being a man, but I carefully fed her berries until she was old enough to feed herself. I named her Destiny and became a father.

I taught her the importance of Hats. I no longer believed. But I knew everyone else did. I was unsure how much danger remained. As the years passed, I hoped the executions would as well, their horror forgotten as generations died off. But I couldn’t know. I taught her what I knew, and soon set about making a Hat for my daughter. Thankfully, another old woman, those salt of the earth elders, gave her a Hat before I passed.

I was soon going to die, and my last wish was simply to gift one more child life in the form of a Hat, the one I’d had for so long this time, passing on the legacy of that old woman who helped me so long ago. I assured a young mother that her child could have my Hat, and sought out my daughter for one last goodbye.

My last memories are blurring now, but I don’t believe I found her before I passed. I only hope the young mother was able to pass on my last farewell, my good wishes to my sweet girl, my Destiny.