Wednesday, July 28, 2004
This is a story of a land long ago, where myths walked the earth and legends ruled the skies....
In this time, there was a man, a young man, whose eyes shone with silver fire and whose heart pulsed the same beat of the earth. As with all young man, he was restless and sought something he could not find. At night, he ran with the speed of the wolves and the silence of the deer. He ran in search of something... Something. He knew not what. His mother stood at the window, worried; while his father - whose eyes held knowledge and his gaze, power - said nothing at all.
In the day, he worked tirelessly with his peers, continuing where others faltered, reaping where others could not. The ladies swooned and fell in love with him, and he took pleasure when he desired, yet his heart remained unfulfilled. And this heart yearned all the more fiercely for the unknown, so his feet took to wondering still further, and the fire in his eyes grew brighter and more wild.
There came a time when he knew he must leave; so he left, carrying with him the wisdom in his father's eyes and the silence of his lips.
Tirelessly, he travelled. Past oceans of fish and merpeople; past beaches of gold dust and pearls. Through a desert, he went, following the road of the Djinn for his eyes saw what fools did not. Voices whispered during the night and singing floated down from beyond the next dune, luring the lonely traveller. But he heeded the words of the snake on a staff who spoke to him at the edge of the desert, and ignored the haunting sounds. Through a city, he travelled, and the city was full of joys, of laughter and temptations. Golden bridges ran over sparkling canals; the air was heavy with the scent of wine and perfume, and women hung over the railing of balconies strewn with a thousand flowers. He walked through the teeming marketplace, where men shouted their wares and children laughed and played, gamboling beneath your feet. He walked past the holy district, where temples shone white in the sun and wise men of all faiths prayed, taught and learned.
As he walked, he found suddenly that he was not alone. A man strolled beside him, silent and unassuming. Tall he was, and thin. His skin was as white as the temple marble but his robes were blacker than night. It seemed to the young man that he could see images swirling in the fabric, that should he look too long or too deep, he might fall endlessly into the universe of the stranger's robe. The sun still shone, but it seemed now somehow pale and without warmth. Startled, the young man realized that they was no longer travelling amongst the temples but had entered a strange land without his noticing. The path was the same but the place seemed different; to exist and yet not exist, hovering at the corners of his mind and shifting even as his eyes looked away from it.
"Where are we?" he asked the stranger beside him, whose face was shadowed by his jet black hair. The stranger neither paused nor slowed. Indeed, he seemed not to have heard the question at all! Though dissatisfied, the young man had learned patience in his journey and carried the memories of his father's understanding in his heart. So he fell silent and walked, surrepticiously studying his uninvited companion.
After some time, they arrived at a place which neither moved nor changed. Upon closer examination, it seemed to the youth that they were standing upon a precipice, with absolutely nothing around them but an endless fall and the road which they had taken stretching far behind them. He stood, fearless, and continued watching his unknown escort who looked to be surveying the area around them. Finally the man looked at him.
At that moment, the young man wished fervently that he had not. The stranger's eyes were fire and obsidian! There were no whites in his eyes yet his black gaze blazed more brilliantly than the youth's own and seemed to pierce through flesh and fortress to look right upon his naked soul.
"Orpheus," said he; and the young man trembled as his name reverberated through his bones with the raw power in the stranger's voice.
"Orpheus," the being repeated (for Orpheus was certain now that this stranger was not mortal), "Orpheus... My son... What is it you seek?"
Frightened, but courageous and pure, Orpheus struggled to find an answer to the question which had spurred his travels for the past year and a day.
"I - I - I do not know, master. But... But i think i may have just found it."
And indeed, the power emanating from the figure seemed to shrink into itself and lo! The man standing before him was none other than the father he had known all his life, with his weathered skin, eyes that held knowledge and his gaze, power; but who, in all the years of his memory, had never said anything at all.
"Who are you... Father?" asked the young man, confused and disorientated, his mind sifting through the memories he has had of this man. And for the first time, he heard the man he knew as 'father' speak.
"Who am i?" the form might have been different but the voice, throbbing with restrained power, was the same. He seemed to genuinely ponder this question, searching for how best to answer. "I am Dream. One of the Endless. Some know me as Morpheus; others, as the Sandman or the dream-king. But i am simply Dream, one of the Endless; and i am your father."
i don't feel like writing anymore :p up to this point, i was simply making it up as i went along, but here i feel that this is no longer my story but one for another to tell. It is not my perogative to spin yarns out of Neil Gaiman's tales, wonder as i may. I just happened to be reading the Sandman yet again and i felt restless and like writing. I often do this, make up stories without endings. Continue them however you see fit; i merely seek to spill out words i cannot contain and perhaps spur the imagination of some. I do not think i will continue this one. The comics are much better, with drawings and colour that i lack the capacity to describe. 'A picture says a thousand words', so i have heard and so i agree. Go read the novels :p
6:25 PM