Πέμπτη, 3 Απριλίου 2008

Η πρωτη μου ιστορια

Αυτη ειναι η πρωτη μου ιστορια ... Δυστυχως ειναι γραμμενη στα Αγγλικα . Εκδοθηκε το 2002 σε ενα Λονδρεζικο Funzine και σε ενα Ρουμανικο μεταφρασμενη στα ρουμανικα . Στη Ρουμανια κερδισε και ενα μικρο βραβειο ως η καλυτερη ιστορια του μηνα . Αν σας αρεσει ( ο πληθυντικος με μαρανε αφου προς το παρον μονο η καλη μου Stardustia με διαβαζει μπορω να την μεταφρασω μαζι με τις αλλες ιστοριες του Λυκου στην Ονειροχωρα "...

Once upon a time, there was a big desert in the midst of a world. A dry and bitter desert which grew larger everyday... In this desert lived many creatures. Some simple, everyday creatures, and some magic ones, with wings filled with colors and splendid voices that filled the air with a sweet sound and gave hope to the lost wanderers. But there were also some creatures who, though they were simple, once they found a special creature, they became themselves magical...
So, in this strange desert there were many small waterholes which were called the outposts of memory and hope... In these lived the Guardians who were creatures of all kinds burdened with the responsibility to remember for themselves and the others...To help and comfort those lucky enough to still have a memory... To offer shelter to those who needed help... To offer love those who needed love...
In one of these outposts lived a guardian who was a wolf... A sad wolf... Weary from his struggle and the knowledge that he could never live a life as he would dream it... Because his life was not his, but it was a life lived with the people he loved and cared... A life full of sharing, giving and helping... He was to be a beacon of hope never able to leave his outpost... Yet, somehow he was happy in his life, although sad ... Happy because some others would never feel deserted or alone... So he drew sadness from his hapiness and hapiness from his sadness.
One fine morning, when he was looking for lost souls he saw something... A creature fair and shiny... She was fragile and pretty like a snowflake in the first minutes of a snowfall... A delicate being of outmost beauty who had only litle faith in her soul... Like all lost souls she was led to think that she was just an ordinary thing... Dull and plain... Like the sunrise and the sunset, like the rain and the lightning... But the wolf still had the memory... The memory of how glorious a sunrise was and how breathtaking all sunsets were... He knew where the rainbow arched after a simple rain and the divine life that came to this world with the lightning and the voice of gods that spoke with the thunder...
He knew that nothing was meant to be plain, but all had a hidden magic in their soul... A magic that made the the trees bloom and the flowers to smell so fine...The magic that made the colours look bright and clear just like they did in the morning of a spring day after a soft rain...
She claimed to be a plain lady... Yet, he saw in her the nymph... A mythical creature that woke from the distant legends and came forth riding on the back of a unicorn, with a lost song on her lips and flowers woven in her hair... Radiant and clear, fresh and soft... She took his breath away...
Memories of youth came to him... A youth long lost and hidden neatly in the depths of his memory... A shiver upon his soul... a tear in his eyes, a smile on his lips...
He wanted her... Oh great Lord of the wolves, he wanted her so badly... She was the elixir of his lost youth ... A glimpse of the dream of freedom he could never have. A touch of the hidden essence of gods he was never meant to touch in this life...
But it was never meant to be... He was a wolf... Bold and restless... Vigilant and caring... She was a forbiden dream... Ambrosia for the gods and nectar for Zeus and not for him...
He could never leave his post to follow her or chase her... Yet he knew he wanted her... Just for a small touch... A short walk or a short talk...To make her remember who she was... To teach her how to shine and blind the others as she did with him... To help her fly away and far carried on the wings of the eastern winds of hope leading to the gardens of eden or the mythic Valhala with Odin and Thor...
For him he only wanted to be with her for a short while... So that his flame could burn so bright, even for a short second... A second that could make the rest of his life glow... A sweet memory to lighten his burden and make his effort easier... For what good is our life if not memories of flying happy thoughts and feelings lived for just a blinks time...
His happy thoughts were few, as few as his happy occasions... Yet their value was greater than of the bad ones... They all were so bright that shed their light on all his life... And his moments with her could be the of the brightest ones... If only they could be... But it couldn't ... So, the WOlf took his sight from her... The only thing he could do was hide and admire her from far...

At nights when the moon was full and the skies were clear, he would go to his favorite rock and wonder of the things that might have been... A bitter smile would come to his face... A sad, yet happy smile... For even the thought of seeing her was enough to make his nights better...
And then, just to thank her, he would sing... He would sing for her to the pale Lady of the Moon and the Lord of the stars ... The sad song of wolves... The song of lost and unlived dreams that are still kept living in their hearts and are passed to their cubs as a legend of old times...
A legend Of Nymphs and Wolves ...

1 σχόλιο:

ΑΝΑΣΑ είπε...

Όμορφη ιστορία ...συννεφόλυκε...
συνήθως τα παιδιά τους φοβούνται τους λύκους (όχι επειδή ο Freud το πε)αλλά γιατί (μάλλον)ύπάρχει στην ψυχούλα τους ένας συμβολισμός(εικόνα) του "μεγάλου" δικτάτορα(-ες),να παρακολουθεί τις κινήσεις τους,να τους λέει το ΟΧΙ και το ΜΗ. Γίνονται και αυτά .
Ξεχάστηκα...
Καλημέρα