He wasn't trying to fly. That's just how it happened. (chapter 6) (684 hits)
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Submitted by The Downward Spiral of your Mind (View user info) at 2005-03-04 00:43:43 EST
"The ocean of darkness had given birth. Out of the cradle of the cosmos had arisen the hope-child of light. This hope had forged a ship, to traverse the dark waters. It had sailed to the mountain of beauty, where it had climbed to the peak. There it had sprouted rainbow's wings and jumped into the sky. The tempest from the wing's drummings swept away darkness and beauty all, and hope flew to heaven, leaving the vanquished world behind."
Sometimes, a hidden thought holds the key to the universe; sometimes it is nothing.
The parched world that surrounded the house had been begging the skies for satiation ever since the first ancient day the sun had awoken. Being born, it had illuminated the whole earth, smiling down with its blinding face and tickling the forests, rustling the air, rusting the fields' wheat, tapping the ocean's waves. It loosed its robe of radiance and by shedding that glowing hide, had opened its uncovered eye to reveal the first and original day. When the hide's scales, infinite as a tree's leaves, fell over the world they reflected and scattered the sun's shining laugh, filling all the atmosphere with an innumerable host of gossamer strands that amplified and resonated upon each other, building threads, then cords, then ropes, all binding the sun to the clouds, the clouds to the trees, the trees to the rivers, the rivers to the sky, the sky to the fields to the grass to the sun to the earth; and the earth was conquered by the day on the day's first appearance. It had come without mercy, impregnated by the sun and tempted by the song of the starless soil. With its lustful beast enraged, the day had deigned to overtake the world because of its beauty.
Before the sun, before the day, the world had been unseen. There was no celestial light; only lone wanderers' stubborn campfires, their flames' tongues licking out chants against the dark eternity that surrounded, shone bleakly against the dearth of joy. Fire was the witness of antiquity; it alone could still remember the relics that had been crushed by the day's cloak. Fire remembered what it had fought against; its light in ancient days was a blemish on the blackness, and it shone to keep demons away from the hearts of the Ancestors. The Ancestors avoided them by succoring the very fear of them with the fires' meager light. Busy with thoughts of war against an enemy that crusaded from the faraway lands of their own hearts, the Ancestors could not see the world. Busy directing the promenade of the stars, neither could the moon. Nobody knew of the world's splendor- but when the sun came, when the day came, all was undressed. The sun's scales sailed through the demons' flesh, unweaving their sinews; they spun through the darkness, stamping out all the shadows with their march; they blanketed the world in its own reflection.
And because the sun could not stop staring, all the crops withered. And because the lit scales fluttered about like glass butterflies, the world saw its own scorched face, and was ashamed. And the world painted itself with red and gold to hide its new nakedness, and to amplify what little beauty it had left. And its cosmetics peeled away with time, and the sun, faced with the world's true ugliness, died out of spite and shame, charring itself. And the world bathed itself with the dead sun's ashes in mourning. And the cold ashes mixed with the world's hot tears to nourish its face, and its beauty was restored as a new sun was born. And it all has been happening so since.
All of this, according to one of the books that lay especially near the flower, was how the four seasons came to be. The days of ash had come, and the dry dust all around had been met with a response to its seasonal appeal for relief from the sun's sight; all the ground was porcelain, all the sky gauze.
To him, this was all imagination; his windows were boarded, and he was never permitted to leave the house during the winter. He never was sure why; cold, even frigid cold, did not hinder or even discomfort him. So he had to rely on romantic descriptions and fanciful yearnings to build a world, within his bandaged head, that had a place for snow.
The deadliness of his aim was unknown to him; his shots against ignorance were taken blindfolded, but not blind -he was aware of his impediment. In a place behind his ears he knew the flavor of truth, but only enough to entice him for more, never enough to sate his hunger. He could dream and dream, he could make stories and kingdoms and galaxies for himself, but behind his glittering eyes he knew that, all the world's cursings and blessings aside, all those fantasies were built from withered gravestones, buried words. His only hope was to find a stone that did not crumble, a word that still breathed. The truth was among those castles' dungeons somewhere, but to him they all looked the same... Sometimes, a hidden thought holds the key to the universe; sometimes it is nothing.
So, his mind sang and wove as it danced against its own mirror. Hills opened their flowered throats as his thoughts branched out over him, like a single tree releasing mangos, pomegranates, and pears. A constellation of dragonflies' wings straddled a train of wind, whose footprints left the universe red, orange, and purple. Amidst it all, he waited for the sun to die and spread its ashes over the frigid earth. His eyes shut with a hope for a vision to appear behind those eyelids in front of which it had refused to flower. And because his eyes were shut thus -clenched, twisted, welded- he did not notice that his own flower had sprouted tiny new leaves that crept over the chipped pot's toothy wrinkles.
User Reviews
Submitted by Istaros (user info) at 2006-06-06 23:31:57 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
yeah, i do ok with imagery, but i have problems being succint. and with dialogue, ugh.
glad it gave someone(else) a small dose of pleasure though. night.
Submitted by Anansie (user info) at 2006-06-06 23:28:57 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Well, I am going to stop at this one for tonight. This is pretty good so far. It's a bit wordy for my taste, but it has nice imagery and description.
Submitted by Anansie (user info) at 2006-06-06 23:24:23 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I love the image of the world covering its nakedness. Well actually I love quite a few images in this.
Submitted by Istaros (user info) at 2006-04-01 02:15:16 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
woah you're right, i didn't notice that at all. no big deal or anything; i mean, i'm not going to say i don't care about ratings *at all* -anybody who denies that they'd rather have high ratings than low is a liar. but at the same time, like i said, it's no big deal. but yeah that is weird...
Submitted by Nellypaal (user info) at 2006-03-31 07:09:24 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
How does five +2s and one -2 equal .66?
Hope this helps.
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2006-03-26 13:13:08 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Yeah.
Submitted by GirleButterfly (user info) at 2005-09-26 21:07:03 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
He wasn't trying to be a jackass. That's just how it happened. (chapter 6)
Submitted by Socialist_Joe (user info) at 2005-03-11 18:12:31 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
2 for 5 all day
Submitted by Istaros (user info) at 2005-03-04 15:20:11 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
"Champ!?" INSOLENCE!!
Submitted by Chinaski (user info) at 2005-03-04 02:44:22 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Good for you, champ.
Submitted by Sideburns (user info) at 2005-03-04 00:45:00 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I opened this then realized my eyes are too tired to even try to read it, but have a +2 for my laziness. I'll read this later.