7 April 2014

Short Story number 11

Short Story number 11: Inspired by the song «Feeling the Pull» by The Swell Season from the album Strict Joy.

The late night breeze came in, unexpectedly, through the open window, revolving the hot and dense air. The tinkling sound of the wind-chime propagated its melody through every room in the house and that sudden stir on the quiet atmosphere propelled his energy levels to the point of felling a hint of restlessness taking over him.
This was no news to him. Every now and then, he feels deep in his bones, an urge to re-establish the vital connection and natural sync, of the flow of his life and thoughts, with the universe’s. Life, itself, in its unstoppable pace, manages to efficiently disconnect every being of its ancestral roots. But, when one listens carefully we might discover, that the universe always finds its way to summon and question us.
Being an avid interpreter of this silent language, he learned that every time he feels the need to be in close contact with the simple elements of nature, it usually means, that some answers need to find its way through the maze of the daily distractions or some questions need to be asked.
The product of that imperceptible speech can be found everywhere, whether in the form a slightest chill in the spine or in a stubborn certainty that despite the faint odds, never fades away.
On those occasions, when the amount of unanswered questions, dangerously defied his ability to make sense of the direction his life was taking, every atom of his being compelled him to seek guidance beneath the night sky, where he could benefit from the reassuring cover of the darkness and consciously reduce the probability of being caught out of guard, bearing his vulnerability. The privacy of those ceremonial moments allowed him to engage in a sincere conversation with himself.
At this point, his concentration levels were at their lowest. He might as well surrender to this silent calling so he stood up and went outside.
            As always, in those occasions, he followed the standard procedure that had proved to be the most effective in appeasing those sudden peaks of lucidity, and after carefully selecting a secluded area, he engaged in the apparent prosaic action of  looking up to the night sky. Every time he gazed at the night sky, with its countless celestial bodies, illuminating the profuse and deep darkness, and submitted it, to the limited scrutiny capacity of the human eye, he automatically condemned his terrestrial nature to navigate his thoughts between two compelling possibilities: whether to feel crushed under the acknowledgment of the unimaginable dimension of the universe’s infinity, or to surrender to the irresistible attraction of being sucked in to the vastness of its mysteries. It was roaming between those two possibilities that he always found a starting point from which to derive his thoughts.
The profound silence of the nocturnal hours has always been one of the factors that impressed him the most in those lone night incursions, but in order to fully benefit from that experience, he needed to empty his head from all the gibberish talk that had been overpowering his thoughts and allow this peaceful state, resulting from the absence of noise, to impregnate his mind, like a sponge gladly welcomes the liquid element which will transform its barren matter into a fertile receptacle of life.
The night breeze, which was now stronger, messed his hair. A couple of clouds passed by, briefly concealing the stars behind their ephemeral shapes. He felt that his senses gradually grew sharper making him sensible to all manifestations of life that were simultaneously happening around him, even the tiniest and imperceptible ones.
            From where he was standing he could hear the children’s distant laughter and giggles as they played in the neighborhood streets. Like a sudden rush of energy in a lifeless being, that contagious and familiar sound, immediately re-established the connection with the sometimes forgotten and often neglected part of him that still preserved that childlike ability, to believe in what is considered impossible, in the light of the rational standards. Almost instantly, these intrusive, yet pleasing thoughts, made him redirect his energy levels, fueling his will with a renewed hope and faith in the future. 
Looking around him, he spotted the glorious full moon silhouette, peeking among the tree’s branches. The sight of that unique, yet familiar vision was like bumping into an old friend in a foreign city. Its discrete glow was just enough to allow him a satisfactory perception of the surroundings. Not that he needed for he was pretty sure where he was going.

By Raquel R.

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