A little orphan was walking down the street trying to sell tissues. A man; a magician, had approached him with a rope in his hands. “Dear unfortunate boy, I will give you this magical rope, it will disappear and then I want you to perform three tricks with it. Try, if you succeed in pulling them off in front of these idiots I will grant you a wish.” “Anything I want?” “Oh, the most thing you desire.” The boy thought – “To escape this hopeless place … A beginning.”
The boy took in the rope in his little dirty hands, it disappeared but he could still feel it. He made a ring and tied it on a stray dog’s neck, he walked him pulling left and right. People stood in amazement to watch with their mouths wide-open. Then he took that same ring and tightened it on a beautiful woman’s waist and pulled her towards him, they laughed. Then he tied the end of the rope to a pole and pulled it tightly and told them to pass. They couldn’t and they were glad that they couldn’t, they cheered. “What an amazing young magician” “He has a bright future!” They kept repeating.
Finally, he looked at the man and the man nodded with a look that said “I know what you want and you shall have it.” The rope embraced the boy’s neck and he felt warmth and smiled truly from the heart. The rope got held up and the boy died. They watched, they laughed and clapped for this tragic act. The man -“Thank you.” Then he made him disappear.
My grandma’s famous strawberry cookies! Mmmmm … How good and delicious! I wonder what is in them … “What is your secret recipe grandma?” “hohoho you’ll have to die to know that dear.” If only she weren’t literal. I died to know that these red lines are not strawberry. Please don’t ask her!
Dear walking heaven; the meaning of poetry and the reason of love wars, the innocence in your face is tempting for corruption. I surrender, I give up, I give in, I resist … This dreamy soul of yours which is stained with earthy colours is my forbidden desire, I want to drink it like fine wine, if this was possible. The way you walk like a child in the gardens of beauty makes me want to chase you, catch you and fill my lungs with your golden laughter. The way you glow makes me wonder … Do you drink sunshine in cups for breakfast or are you the angel of love? Why do the sunflowers follow you? Why do I feel that you are my good mornings, my warm afternoons, my fading evenings and gloomy nights?
Those lips of yours … When you talk, they slither softly and are deadly enough to kill. Are they poisonous berries? I would dare to try. Two goddesses playing around a lake and I would jump into its depth even though I can’t swim, I’d rather drown than be rescued. Gathered roses of which I want to extract the finest perfume that could give eternal youth. Or is it a nectar of delicious fruits that will run through the veins of the dead and give life to their cold hearts?
I don’t mind dying in your arms; where paradise lays or on the sounds of your laughs; the meaning of true happiness; the high tasteful music; the light that will conquer any evil. Your pure soul is the meaning of love,art,adventure and selflessness. An art piece that is so fine that life brags with to let me know that you’re not mine to have, I don’t deserve you but I will settle for pleasuring my eyes with seeing you from a distance.
How can something be so beautiful and torturous? Like a rose with thorns indeed, a rose swaying in the breeze playfully, tempting to be picked and owned. Breathtaking and captivating, a mix of pain and pleasure, worthless words to describe such a magical creature who is higher than to be made out of clay.
Yes I fancy those children, the way their imagination works is fascinating. He chases butterflies calling them magical fairies yet he releases them when they fall under his mercy. She cries on the crumbs of her crackers and calls them falling angels from the sky. She imagines the rain drops as soldiers being sent down to rest after a battle, so she dances under love trying to collect them on her skin to live in her.
He lays down to count the stars and says I’ll go there one day to play with them and perhaps shine like they do. She sneaks on her toes into my library; which she thinks is forbidden, to learn the secrets of life of course. They fear our cook; from her broad face that they compare with stone. They say she eats children and cook them.
I laugh at these scenes which they make. I only wish that the last one was not true. Yes, my angels are stars now in a far fairyland guiding soldiers to the secrets of life, that’s what I like to think.
I still have a black and white picture … It is clearer this way, I get to see his true face and kiss those wrinkles; caused by his overdosed smiles. His true face … I can see it in his soul through those charming eyes.
He looked at me, and with one look he elicited my soul out so forcibly as if he called it forth and it obeyed … I felt like a lab rat, he was testing his control on me.
The best reason to hate him is that he made me smile once. His smile, on the other hand, is innocent and the most deceiving.
I remember the first time we had a connection … Our souls bonded and we had access to each other’s thoughts. We come from different tribes he and I, I come from the “Qatala”; the most deadliest and cruelest creatures. He is what you call a common, but he is unique.
We can never be together, we are different like water and fire. He is the symbol of Love and I am the symbol of Hate and chaos will fall on us like rain if the two mix. He has special powers of forcing his love into the coldest and he kills with kindness which I think is pathetic. His purity teases me, I hate the way he treats me, it makes me weak.
I see him sometimes, I avoid looking in those eyes, they have their way to make me feel like a human again and I resent it.
I am sure that he saw the darkness in my eyes and now sees me as one of his charity works … That light in your light soul has no cure for my black spirit. I see him sometimes doing the “Gaith” dance; it brings fortune to the poor ones, I see him juggling planets like they’re nothing too. I see him painting souls with feelings and it was disgusting, I see him riding the “Mumit” for fun; Mumit is a beast that can tear you in parts with one move. I also see him bringing life with a snap of a finger; bringing memories into thin air for people to see, and when I see him I see myself in chains too.
Sometimes I see him as an amusement; a clown. Sometimes I feel that he has my heart in his bare hands and it bleeds when he closes his fist; a master. I am the child of the desert and the sea and I shall return into dust when the sun rises from the west. My end, however, feels nearer when I see the threat in the heart of that child like man. I hope he never becomes my enemy, for he has great power on me. I hope he never becomes my lover, for he is such a distraction. I hope he stays nothing, that worthless half human.
I was having a horrible nightmare about a mad clown who slashed his victim’s mouth from ear to ear … He said she has never smiled before and she needed it. I was woken up by the temperature in the room … It was so cold that my feet almost went blue. I woke up breathing out vapour as if it’s winter … On the edge of my bed there sits a grey troubled soul … He was a figure which took a man’s form with his head looking down.
I tried to talk with him and ask what was wrong. Yes, to talk, “Making contact” is a sentence I hate in horror movies. As if they are not like us … They feel and think. Yes they are beyond in another world under ours but they are around too. He took a look at me and faded into thin air. I wished to see him again … What was his name? Why is he in misery? I want to be a good friend and listen … Or am I in love?
I have always been curious and drawn to mystery. We shared a room together anyway, yes just because I own a piece of land on paper that doesn’t make it mine. They were here before us and we took over their world … This was his room before it was mine and he is kind enough to share it. Sometimes I see his diary next to my pillow, a language I can not understand. It looks Arabic but somehow in reverse, I’m not sure.
He’s not the only one I see, but he is the only one who is grey. I always wonder if the ones living in homes with us are different than those who live in seas, remains and near the graves. I have met some unpleasant creatures; half a goat, impossible to catch, their children, the deformed one who has a story of his own.
He, on the other hand, is more closer to my heart. He has a story that I want and he left me all alone. I am going on a mission to the ancient world beneath ours, of course I have to take permission from their king to get in and out. I shall make a deal with the witch who lives next door, I have a book that she wants and she knows how to summon kings and the retinue, she is well connected.
I wonder if the king will allow me to come back again if I knew too much … Will I find him? Will he tell me his story? Will my journey be unexpected and deadly? I must take this adventure even if I have to travel by spirit and leave my rotten body on this bed of mine. It is worth all the trouble. You will not understand … Not until the veil is removed; a curse yet a blessing. Our existence is metaphysical and beyond the human mind’s limitations, that is what you normal people need to know. Till then, see you …. Maybe.
He was standing there waiting for her, searching for her face in those blurred faces. He caught her at last and she from under her shades has caught his eyes whose patience was wearing thin and that overwhelmed her as she smiled out of true happiness. That smile of hers made his lips wave back with hope but her smile soon had faded into deep sadness due to the clarity of the situation; he can’t be hers and that made her furious. His smile faded too like sunset when her two seconds smile was gone.
His eyes followed the confusing movements of her lips and that left him thinking with mixed emotions. “What is it he wants? … Looking at me with those puppy eyes … The fool thinks I would fall for such an innocent look.” He evoked her emotions with his playfulness and that has offended her most. She refuses to submit to any kind of power and him trying to do so without even trying made her hate him most. “That smile has slipped my face”.
For reasons she does not know and can not understand, she envied him. “The way he looked through me made me feel naked and exposed as if he can see my soul through transparent glass and that scares me most.” “Does he look at all women that way? Of coarse he does, he lied to me without saying a word!” She forces on a face of apathy but sadness breaks through like the truth and light would find their way through the cracks. “Every time I see him I stand straight pulling myself together … It’s stupid and pathetic.” She wasn’t all together! She’s a paradox in a human form.
“We just can’t be together so let me be …” She is grey and he is spring, she is darkness and he is light, he is hope and she is despair, he is the dream and she is a nightmare, he is whole and she is incomplete, he is strong and she is broken, he is very alive and she is dead, he is loved and she is a stranger. “It just doesn’t make sense.”
What can she do but to avoid looking into his deep eyes for they only made her feel pain, for they are one of her new fears and impossible desires. The quiet ones … Who are they but over thinkers? They would make great writers too, since they’re bad talkers. Here’s a little secret; they are not quiet at all their emotions are screaming inside shaking them and choking their throats as they ignore by trying to look calm and together.