Death is merciful for the one who embraces it never wakes up but the one who wakes has to suffer the throbbing of the hideous scars which were left on him by the memories of unnameable beasts and unreachable locations
The texts, they shined. They Illumed the man's heart and this illumination shed light on things that no mortal dared to dream. Even though these things were no feeble jests, nor they were things that a mortal's hands should tamper with, he played with them, but with care because he knew the consequences, he knew the dooms that these things offer. He was drawn to them every night. Their arabesque features and the secrecy that their knowledge held fascinated him. Their knowledge gave him a purpose, a sense of responsibility in the lonely world that he lived. A responsibility to keep their existence a myth and a purpose of uncovering the mysteries of their existence in this cosmos. He felt important.
The people called him a lunatic, they kept a distance from him due to his queer looks, they shamed on him for eating his father's heritance. But he just grinned at these comments that were thrown at him because he knew what purpose he served. He knew that he was wrapped up in a meditation that those people could not divine. He knew that their feeble mind won't be able to comprehend the scale of knowledge that his mind treasured! This treasure which was forbidden, laid in the deepest and the darkest dungeon that his mind could animate and it's key laid on the tip of his tounge, vulnerable yet secured. Sometimes his almost stoic heart would jump out and it would whisper lamentable facts to him. It would remind him how he failed to fall in love, it would remind him of the monstrosity that his appearance bore, it would remind him of his desires that the people around him deemed as strange. But whenever the ivory moon Paid him a visit these worries and painful memories were shoo'd away. Then he would dance in this ivory lit moon betwixt the Cypresses to celebrate his victory over these feeble human emotions. Then he would dance his way back to his beloved house through the dark of the Cyprus forest. Ah! The house! A sight to behold! It laid in the vicinity of the silhouette of the Cypresses. The man would always take a moment to fill his eyes with the show that his darling house put on display every night. Old but still arabesque, known but still unfamiliar, ominous yet pretty was this house which the feeble, dim witted people of the town reported to develop a gloomy jaded look at night. The man would then walk up to his porch whilst listening to the creaking and croaking of the steps. When he reached the porch, he would start humming melodious chants. Chants which were lost in aeons would escape his mouth and would resonate his darling. Then he would hover around the house, lighting the few candles that he had in possession. But these were no quotidian candles, they Illumed certain spots and left the others tranquil. Then he would bring out the texts which were customarily kept concealed so as to ploy the eyes which spied his honey in his absence. These texts which were distinctive in the whole cosmos struggled to flow in the undulating flow of time. He would handle them with immense care as if handling a stillborn, inanimated but still brimming with animated features. Of their genesis and contents I wouldn't dare to speak. They would plunge him down an abyss. He would fall and fall, trying to catch a recherché glimpse of the unspeakable things that this abyss would throw at him for a split of a second. One day he dared to confront an abysmal being, he made a truce with it. This truce granted him visits to unknown and strange cities which were intricately designed with unknown objects and were a feast for the eyes! Now he was able to take a dip into the strange pools and waters with peculiar luminous objects and beings residing at the very bottom, of which he could only catch a glimpse of when he would fall through the abyss! Now he was able to see, feel and hear things that no one has ever seen, felt or heard. And then he laughed! He laughed till his eyes filled with tears, he laughed to his heart's content. Then he took a deep breath, the fragrance, the smell and the strange airs that no mortal ever breathed, he took them all in, and then he sighed and lept into the peculiarly colored sky and hovered onward while praising the show that was put on for him and him only! And he went on and on, and never looked back. But this truce cost him a feeble thing, a thing that was meager as compared to the sights that he beheld and was going to behold. It cost him his mortality. His mortal body oozed strange liquids and lost its warmth. One of his hands grasped the texts firmly while the other laid bare on the floor of his darling house and his face displayed a grin, a grin of satisfaction. His darling house protects his mortal, rotting, cold body from the eyes and the hands of the beasts that lay outside in the wilderness while he traverses strange worlds and gains forbidden knowledge from unspeakable beasts. The candles are still lit, the cypresses still hold their ground, the house struggles in the harsh flow of time and the town relishes their mortal pleasures while the man's rotting corpse lays there, still and cold, inanimated but still brimming with animated features
ns 15.158.61.51da2
