- excerpt from a book i refused to acknowledge but now have found great desire to let the world embrace it
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞
01. BODY OF WATER
He has little time to wonder, and very less time to peek into his reveries to see if there's anything that he could gather.
Crumbs of details:
open shut doors,
candlelight dinners,
and birthday parties
he wishes he had attended before life trembled and turned him into
earthquakes.
Does the world know he is a body of water and trembling is only going to end him in disaster?
His name is Everest.
He knows he's going to see a watery reflection of himself when the mirror captures him.
And still he does it.
The night hasn't been good for him, but there are only very few things that he can't take control of.
And one of them is his ability to dream big.
Huge. Vast. Enormous, and allow the miracles to take root in him.
He has heard of a saying that goes:
'Dreaming is for the one who wants a fist fight with reality and win it.'
Everest doesn't know where his dreams begin and his reality ends.
And how to fight it.
He can only w a i t here
and wonder,
and wonder,
and
w o n d e r how he is going to win his.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞
Shortly after I enter Mr Shade's antique shop, trailing behind me are golden bubbles popping in the air.
With a loud pop that rings even after you've hiked a mile.
The heart of the place floods with water. It cascades upto my ankles in a soft pool of wrinkled mess. I watch the water bubble, gurgle, crawl past me in delight.
Mr Shade tells me to be careful.
He knows what my visions can do
when I receive them with open arms.
He knows I will not be able to
e s c a p e if I dig up a space in my head - a graveyard where dreams
die without seeing the light,
or
dreams that are banished after
they've fulfilled their hearts.
Antique hearts.
The moving water suddenly disappears and it reminds me how much of a blessing (and a curse?) it is to witness miracles unfold.
Mr Shade shakes his exhausted
head, rubbing a hand over his exhausted face.
My strangeness doesn't tire him. My strangeness overwhelms him.
I have a father. I have a mother. Somewhere, I orphaned them.
Mr Shade is the only one I have close to a parent. I could be the only family for him.
I will never know unless I ask. But then if he does have a child to go home to, where does it leave me?
So he cares for me, and I bulge with need for love.
Before I envision another torrent of a steady stream or fall of rivers, I gracefully float to a table filled with century old chambersticks and occupy myself with polishing them.
Silver colour bursts in the halo of my eyes. I quickly turn towards its
gravitational pull, eyes widening,
heart blooming with orchids. I feel their petals purple in my mouth.
Like berries frothing on the bushy trees.
There's a shoal of fish gliding across the room, staying behind for me after all the water had left.
The antique shop is engulfed by glimpses of sunlight, casting a warm breezy feeling of brown you can only find in forests.
I thrill and thrive in ecstasy. The world is full of miracles, and I'm not short of them.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞
taken from a story i could write one day (if i give it a thought)
