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Oblivion

by Isavella Ziova 4 months ago in Fantasy
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The golden lyre, and the fire owl

Have you ever thought about what makes people forget? What's changing them? It's a story of a boy who more or less concerns us all, and we can all tell it, somehow. That's what Adam was like. Strange man, though quite young. He was looking for mystery in all parts of his life. He always saw the background and always analyzed the personality of every person he knew. He was always trying to figure out what evidence everyone was hiding inside, the most hidden, the things that not everyone can see with the naked eye.

Most people, they are shallow, live their daily lives simply, conventionally, in terms and rules, in a routine that spends you day by day. Rarely can you meet a man in your life with depth and scope. Rarely can you meet a man who will take you on a journey far and magical, to worlds you never even imagined at the edge of the dreams. And the deeper he lets you in, the more you're going to find out. Down there, in those depths, lies the Water of Oblivion. Only everyone's soul has access to those waters. Only the soul can touch them, and if he desires it to be lost in his abyss, in the bottomless depths. Water magic, which makes you forget and change.

Adam knew these places well. He ‘traveled’ there for years, it renewed him, found himself, gained strength and went back to the compatible world. Despite his 25 years, he seemed like an intellectual. His wisdom and truth went far beyond his youthful appearance. He read a lot and listened to music a lot as well. Things that many people don't do, but he traveled within them, within their dimensions, and made images, whole stories about distant places and universes inaccessible.

On one of his deep inner voyages, he encountered a rapid deep river, beyond the twilight zone. "It's the Water of Oblivion", he was told by the voices around him, the voices his soul heard. "If you drink from it, you'll forget your loved ones. You'll forget your name", he was told. "I can't, I must drink, I must learn this mystery, the secret, the magic, of the hidden world", he replied. "If you drink cursed, you will be. Why would you lose the most precious thing you've got? Why would you lose anything in life worth it? The moments don't come back, neither the emotions, nor the people the loved ones". But he didn’t listen, his impulsiveness and his inexhaustible curiosity about all the mysteries and secrets of the world, led him to the magic water.

The look of the crystal and the taste of the sweet. He drank, he kept drinking, until he couldn't take it anymore. Immediately forgot, beloved relatives, unique friends, moments and memories wonderful, who don’t come back, even his name forgot, and didn’t even know where he was. On the edge of the river, on the edge of the forest of his dreams. Did he sit there and was considering how he got there? Who would he be and where did he come from?

As time went by, he didn’t meet a man, pain heavy cried him, the tear does not dry, he lifted the weight of loneliness alone. "They left me", he thought. "People don't love people", he said and considered for. Ballasts of their desires, even the most forbidden. Man, the cruelest and most ruthless being in the world, doesn’t account for anything in the face of his desires. What if he loses everything? What he wants to do, he'll do.

Time was passing, and man did not appear on earth there the barren, the earth the forgotten. Until one day, a passer, old but strong, appeared before his eyes.

"Hey stranger, what are you doing here alone on the edge of the river? Who are you and where do you come from"? The passer asked him.

"Hello, sir. I am who I am, my name is “No one” and I'm going nowhere".

"Did you drink from the water of oblivion that doesn't come back, and delated your memory and all of your feelings"?

"Alas, my lord, I have made a confession, and I am paying for my mistake".

"’’Evil’’ of your head, you know, who doesn't come back.

From the depths of oblivion, no one comes back.

But you look good and you're young, and you look like you regret it.

So here's what I'm going to tell you, and don't look back,

So if you want to redeem, your memory to get back, look,

to find and play the all-gold lyre,

song through the heart the oblivion be enchanted.

Get your name, love and memories back,

human beings to be born and back to come back.

The fatalism song of the deep that no one else hears,

To hear must the water, of oblivion song".

"Why did you come "passer"? I'm not here for anyone. I lost my dream on my own, at the end of the forgotten land". The "No one" asked him.

But the "passer" responded. "I once found myself there alone and forgotten. But then I swore no one would be a stranger anymore".

"So just tell me, passer, that everything you know, the lyre the single, the gold-sized, with the silk for string, and beautiful melody, where am I going to find"? The "No one" asked.

"Do you see that mountain, over the upper hills, across the see? You'll find an owl there, it's called a fire owl. He's got the lyre, he's got it, he's guarding it. Go ask him, tell him what you're going to do with her. You're going to sing once, and you're going to send her back".

"Thank you very much, passer. As soon as I go, the lyre the only one, song to bring. The water must hear it, to forgive me the poor stranger".

That's what "No one" did. It didn't take long for him to reach the mountain, he wanted his memory and his identity back. He wanted to go back to the people he loved. The mistake was his, out of his inexhaustible curiosity, he lost loved ones, no one remembered. The fire owl heard him, heard his heart. And alas, he felt sorry for him, he was so young, he had a lot of life ahead of him and a lot more to do. And under his golden-red and shiny wings, here's where the lyre comes out, the single, the gold-sized, with the silk for string and beautiful melody.

And the wise owl responded with a human voice, wish and curse gave him another mistake like this not to be born. "My dear stranger, you don't have a name, the lyre, the only one, once to play, a song only from your lips to come out, to bring back the waters, to bring what they took from you. And then the treasure back to me to bring, and to go home, where they love you, and back, don't come back".

"Alas, you're a golden owl, the owl of fire, and you're right. As you say, they will happen, and back I will go back to where I come from, and to my own people".

The stranger, without a name, didn’t miss a moment, thanked the bird, but on his way back to the river, he heard the lyre respond to him with human talk. "Stranger, you who hold me, please play to hear all the creation, my beautiful melody, to bloom all the earth, to sprout the ground, to bloom the flowers. No one ever played a song that hasn't been heard in many centuries. But now you're holding me, in temptations you're getting into. The world's mysteries, the spells to learn. Play my tune, to the end to be heard, and from me whatever you ask, your deepest wish, to fulfill".

"My lyre, golden and sweet, I'm sorry, but I don't, before the time comes to show, before the edge's oblivion. It's been a while since I've been teasing myself. Desires unknown, I don't want to hunt anymore. I lost everything I had. Wrong, wrong doesn't count, but once I do. Everything happens in life, even what you shouldn't. Chances are given a second time, but the same mistake I can't make again. Forgiveness I will never find again, alone I will stay, wandering the earth, in oblivion the depths".

Lyra never spoke again, she was ashamed that a man resisted her in such a way, and melody he didn’t play against her will.

On the way, as he went, deep into the woods, he met a grey wolf and transformed as a crouched and tired old woman. "Hello, my dear young man, but what are you doing here? So deep in the woods, you wander alone. And that lyre, that gold lyre, which do you hold in your hands? Are you a songwriter, maybe a musician? I really wanted to hear, with your sweet voice and her own melody, alone here in solitude the depths, my means to calm down".

"What you're asking me to do, no matter how much I want to do, I can't do. Because I made a promise to the bird, the lyre not to play, and her voice isn’t heard, before I reach the banks of the water, to the oblivion's edge".

But the old lady then laughed, as if she despised him a lot. "You're good, but you're unfaithful, you betray your will. You won't get another chance to play the song, the secret of the world to come out, the knowledge of learning".

"Old woman you lure me into temptations again, but I am strong now, I leave you alone in solitude, no one else to find in front of your path, do not happen and get carried anyone, away by the thick words".

The young man, named none, left behind the old lady and in the forest was lost, alone now wandering to the water's edge.

But as if he had reached, at the rapid river, next to those banks, then and only then, did the no one play the lyre, and in a voice harmonious, angelic and fine, sang the forgotten song of oblivion. Then the stream of water, if you all believe it, changed and turned backwards, and brought back beauties, memories and emotions, and he smiled and changed his expression. "I'm not alone anymore", he thought, "I have life, past and future, people who love me and I have to go back".

But nearby stood the passer, heard his song and was very pleased.

"Well done to you, no one else but you. But your promise to the bird, alas, don't forget". And that one appeared in the sky above. "The lyre give me back, but don't come back. To your house to go, the oblivion to forget. Say you've never been here, don't come back". And he smiled and gave back the lyre the only one, the gold-sized, with the silk for string and beautiful melody. The bird hid it in its golden-red wings, and it got lost in the skies. It was lost from their eyes, beyond the upper hills, where the horizon reaches and the sun is lost.

"Passer my dear, thank you for everything. My name is Adam, and I have to go now. People are looking for me, they've been missing me for a long time. It's time I got back to get close to them. I learned my lesson, curious not to be. And if the secrets of the world have to be seen, they must be seen. I will not seek them in places unknown and forbidden".

"Just a moment please, just a little longer. Our paths will soon be separated forever. There's no harm in the secrets of the world to seek, but you have to watch the evil ones. Life can lead you. And she'll lead you again. Here's what he's got to say, in your soul she's talking about. Only you can hear her voice. She's not wrong. To lead you, where she leads you, she knows the reason. Here's some advice I need to give you. You know what life is, my friend? Pieces, light and darkness, dreams and nightmares. Life is a rope full of nodes. Every node is an experience and every experience conceals a feeling, good or bad, sweet or bitter, right or wrong doesn't matter, it's part of life anyway. Life goes on, from the past, from the present to the future. To earn life, until the last moment, her last breath. Life is body and soul. Every tear of yours hides a secret and every smile, brings you memories. It's up to you how far you go, what you're going to achieve and how much you're going to fight. The only condition is, never give up. Anything can happen when you want it, when you hold your heart at a certain point, then nothing is impossible for you. And don't forget, we are nothing but two moments in the bottomless pockets of time".

And he smiled and thanked the foreigner, and back then he returned, to his family, to his unique friends, and to the loved ones. She never left again, she forgot her oblivion. He forgot the water and the golden lyre. The tear has now dried, it is not as heavy as it was, it has stopped searching and it has changed its course. And he was wiser, he knew how to choose. He's learned to stand out, more the right than wrong. Because life leads him and always listens to her. And so the song of oblivion was played, but now it is lost in her deep waters.

Fantasy

About the author

Isavella Ziova

Professional writer/creative writer

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