He walked on the grass, not caring for the pebbles under his bare feet. His senses were fixed upon her. She looked peaceful, leaning on the remains of a wood boat, her eyes closed. Her legs were bent at the knees, and with one hand under her head, she looked like she wasn’t to be disturbed. He walked on, towards her, his empty sac getting heavier on his shoulders. He placed his bag on a large rock, and sat beside it, just watching her, wondering what her eyes would look like. She was a couple of feet away from him, now stirring from her sleep. The murmurings of the lake grew louder with the wind, but the falling water was silent. The moon threw its pseudo-light selectively, but wherever it fell, darkness was outright unwelcomed. Her eyes flung open. She sat up, looked around and smiled, as if she was at home. She turned around to face him, and she panicked. She looked around and understood this was not where she had fallen asleep last night. She got up, lifted her heavy skirt and walked towards the water. She could see through the darkness, and as much as she loved being here, she knew she shouldn’t be. She turned to him
“Where am I? Who are you?”
“Not far. We’re where you want to be”.
She looked at him confused, and continued to take in the surroundings. She’d never been here, but she felt a sense of inexplicable warmth and an odd comfort. The grass was fresh, uncut, wild, and the greenest. Dewdrops caressed the lucky blades with young love. Soaked in the blue light of the moon, the water was at peace with the wind, as if in a lively conversation, like friends long lost. The water falling from the mountains fell with great force, and created a dynamic crater where it fell, but was silent, like an angry, inconsolable child, refusing to talk. A lighthouse threw a thin beam of light that ran along the whole place like clockwork.
“Who are you?” she asked again.
“I am what you want me to be”.
She gave the confused smile again. She knew she’ll have to leave this heaven soon; she did not wish waste time by repeating questions that he diplomatically refused to answer.
“What do you have in there?” she asked, pointing to his bag.
He smiled and answered, “Whatever you want me to carry”.
She stared at him for a second longer and looked away.
“So this is about me”
“Your mind, rather”
“Say, why is the sky so plain and dark? That’s not the way I like it”
“I know”, he said. He put his right hand in his bloated bag, took something out in his clenched fist, and threw it at the sky. The sky was now no longer flawless, but with little specks of light, singing silent songs.
She looked up, in awe. She twirled around like a little girl and laughed a laugh he wished to see more often. Her long skirt flung alone, trying to keep up with her. She went up to the lake and looked at her reflection. She saw herself dressed in the most beautiful reds and greens.
“Am I a bride? Why am I dressed up this way?”
He gave his trademark smile.
“It’s okay, I actually like it”
She sat down and hugged her legs, patiently watching around. She undoubtedly wanted to stay here.
“Why are there no rainbows at night? Wouldn’t they look more fantastic at night?”
“Ah, that, I cannot give you. There are complications”
“Complications? I thought u had a magic bag!”
“I do not have a magic bag! I only fulfill the wishes that are plausible”
She sat down, dejected, nevertheless trying to understand.
“What about rainbows at night? If I could imagine it, if it were within the boundaries of imagination, isn’t it even minutely attainable?”
“There are no boundaries of imagination, and there is nothing that is partly attainable. Some things have hues and shades, others are all about the solid chromatic colour, and are either black or white. You either have it, or don’t”.
She was silent.
He continued, “The colour fairies make up the rainbow. They fly along perfectly synced paths that we see as neat streaks of colour. At night, the devils come out and destroy all the light and living beings, except those beyond their reach”.
“Ha! An imaginary world, a dream and still right doesn’t win over wrong”.
“That’s because the fairies do not wish to fight. Here there’s a choice to fight. Why not keep a distance?”.
“Why not fight evil for good?”
“That never happens. There’s always going to be as much hatred in the world as love. The end of one evil being only brings up another, either as a battle between who is better among the good, or as a dangerously curious deed”
“Hmmm…” it made sense to her, “So one can wish for and work towards a pretty night sky, and it’s stupidity to wish for something as the other…”
She was so deep in thought that she hadn’t noticed how long he hadn’t taken his eyes off her. The ripples of the lake reflected in her mirror like eyes that had much too depth at the same time, and the light wavering with the water reflected on her face, moving, unsettling.
“I don’t know where to draw the line”, she said, as she gazed at her own henna tattooed hands, “I am much too scared to be optimistic. I fear the future”. She wanted to keep talking, but she’d conveyed enough.
“So, hold any advice?” she asked.
He walked towards her, sat so close to her that it made her uncomfortable. He looked at her straight in her eyes, “Just look for the signs”, he said. He walked away, and she looked on, understanding better.
“Where am I? Who are you?”
“Not far. We’re where you want to be”.
She looked at him confused, and continued to take in the surroundings. She’d never been here, but she felt a sense of inexplicable warmth and an odd comfort. The grass was fresh, uncut, wild, and the greenest. Dewdrops caressed the lucky blades with young love. Soaked in the blue light of the moon, the water was at peace with the wind, as if in a lively conversation, like friends long lost. The water falling from the mountains fell with great force, and created a dynamic crater where it fell, but was silent, like an angry, inconsolable child, refusing to talk. A lighthouse threw a thin beam of light that ran along the whole place like clockwork.
“Who are you?” she asked again.
“I am what you want me to be”.
She gave the confused smile again. She knew she’ll have to leave this heaven soon; she did not wish waste time by repeating questions that he diplomatically refused to answer.
“What do you have in there?” she asked, pointing to his bag.
He smiled and answered, “Whatever you want me to carry”.
She stared at him for a second longer and looked away.
“So this is about me”
“Your mind, rather”
“Say, why is the sky so plain and dark? That’s not the way I like it”
“I know”, he said. He put his right hand in his bloated bag, took something out in his clenched fist, and threw it at the sky. The sky was now no longer flawless, but with little specks of light, singing silent songs.
She looked up, in awe. She twirled around like a little girl and laughed a laugh he wished to see more often. Her long skirt flung alone, trying to keep up with her. She went up to the lake and looked at her reflection. She saw herself dressed in the most beautiful reds and greens.
“Am I a bride? Why am I dressed up this way?”
He gave his trademark smile.
“It’s okay, I actually like it”
She sat down and hugged her legs, patiently watching around. She undoubtedly wanted to stay here.
“Why are there no rainbows at night? Wouldn’t they look more fantastic at night?”
“Ah, that, I cannot give you. There are complications”
“Complications? I thought u had a magic bag!”
“I do not have a magic bag! I only fulfill the wishes that are plausible”
She sat down, dejected, nevertheless trying to understand.
“What about rainbows at night? If I could imagine it, if it were within the boundaries of imagination, isn’t it even minutely attainable?”
“There are no boundaries of imagination, and there is nothing that is partly attainable. Some things have hues and shades, others are all about the solid chromatic colour, and are either black or white. You either have it, or don’t”.
She was silent.
He continued, “The colour fairies make up the rainbow. They fly along perfectly synced paths that we see as neat streaks of colour. At night, the devils come out and destroy all the light and living beings, except those beyond their reach”.
“Ha! An imaginary world, a dream and still right doesn’t win over wrong”.
“That’s because the fairies do not wish to fight. Here there’s a choice to fight. Why not keep a distance?”.
“Why not fight evil for good?”
“That never happens. There’s always going to be as much hatred in the world as love. The end of one evil being only brings up another, either as a battle between who is better among the good, or as a dangerously curious deed”
“Hmmm…” it made sense to her, “So one can wish for and work towards a pretty night sky, and it’s stupidity to wish for something as the other…”
She was so deep in thought that she hadn’t noticed how long he hadn’t taken his eyes off her. The ripples of the lake reflected in her mirror like eyes that had much too depth at the same time, and the light wavering with the water reflected on her face, moving, unsettling.
“I don’t know where to draw the line”, she said, as she gazed at her own henna tattooed hands, “I am much too scared to be optimistic. I fear the future”. She wanted to keep talking, but she’d conveyed enough.
“So, hold any advice?” she asked.
He walked towards her, sat so close to her that it made her uncomfortable. He looked at her straight in her eyes, “Just look for the signs”, he said. He walked away, and she looked on, understanding better.
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