“One wants to tell a story, like Scheherezade, in order not to die. It's one of the oldest urges in mankind. It's a way of stalling death.” Carlos Fuentes
Friday, 4 June 2010
A wish
One night I could not sleep. I got out of my bed and I got out of my house – a house that was away from crowds, away from lights and away from noise. And then, I looked up towards the sky. And the sky was full of bright shining stars. It was a night of glory.
I closed my eyes and I made a wish. A wish so strong that burnt my eyes. And I started to cry. And my tears moistened my face and my night-dress too. My feet got wet as well.
And then I opened my eyes. My look was still up high, towards the sky. And a strange thing happened there. Among the stars, a star of flesh appeared. A starfish. A sea starfish. But, how and why I wondered. Wasn’t I looking at the sky? The sky and not the sea? Was I in dream?
And then a light breeze blew. And I felt water drops on me. And the breeze kept on blowing and the sky got blurred and I felt more water drops on me. And I started loosing the starfish out of my sight and I got scared. And I tried to reach out for it. And I stretched my body, I stretched my arms to grasp the sky starfish. And after effort I got it and held it in my hands- but my hands were now all wet. And in my mouth I had a taste of salt. And I felt cold.
And I understood. The sky was the sea. The stars were reflections. The starfish was a starfish of flesh. But my wish was my wish and it had come true.
The starfish slipped out of my hands. And I got up, I got into my house, I closed the door, and I went to bed. And fell asleep.
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