Abbot Eventide: Protected "Let Me Show You Something: Book 1" (‎[edit=sysop] (indefinite) ‎[move=sysop] (indefinite))

2012-09-10T13:23:09Z

Protected "Let Me Show You Something: Book 1" (‎[edit=sysop] (indefinite) ‎[move=sysop] (indefinite))

Abbot Eventide: Created page with "'''Title: Let me show you something: Book 1 ''' '''Author: Styvnn ''' I had been sitting there quietly as the morning sun poured through the window of just another din..."

2012-09-10T13:23:01Z

Created page with "'''Title: Let me show you something: Book 1 ''' '''Author: Styvnn ''' I had been sitting there quietly as the morning sun poured through the window of just another din..."

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'''Title: Let me show you something: Book 1 '''

'''Author: Styvnn '''

I had been sitting
there quietly as the
morning sun poured
through the window
of just another diner
in just another small
run down town, eating
whatever I had just
ordered without much
concern for my meal
or my surroundings,
just musing as I
sipped at my empty
coffee and
meandering through
pleasent thought. I had
successfully
retreated, but as I
have come to learn
such personal peaces
are always ended.

"Let me show you
something"

For a long while it
was a disembodied
voice, like one of my
own thoughts
wondering through a
daydream. It was only
just before I asked
myself what exactly I
was about to show,
that I noticed a
shadowed figure to
the left of me.

Well, not shadowed
exactly. I mean his
form was darker than
the air around him,
but only because he
was positioned before
the rising sun. The
light radiated around
him as though his
body was enclosed in
some glowing halo, or
if his body
shimmered. It was a
wholly interesting
effect, one that I
didn't particularly
care to see without my
sunglasses, however,
but then again I am a
pessimist.

So like I said, I had
been sitting there for
a blissfully long time
with my cup to my
lips and my mind,
well, my mind was
elsewhere, when,
much to my dismay,
this disembodied
thought echoing
through my mind was
suddenly reconized as
being foreign. As I
recall, the sudden
thrust of intellectual
power from the more
imaginative, and
infinitely more
fascinating portion of
my mind to that
smaller portion still
concerned with
reality could have
been easily witnessed
as a startled jerk. I
was slightly annoyed.

He, however, was
oblivious to my startle,
and did not appear be
aware of my jerked
motion or even indeed
my presence. This
was very disturbing to
me. How dare he
invade and drag me
from my preconscious
wanderings even
while he remained in
his own! It was an
ignominious affront to
common dignity, and,
as it is my custom to
do so, I was rather
determined to ignore
it.

But even as I
attempted to so, even
as I tried to returned
to my plate and to my
coffee, I instead
found myself
transfixed on the
pleasant fantastic but
once again by his very
unpleasant presence.
His dreadful presence
bored me. Even with
the extrodinary
effect of the rising
sun, or was it setting,
I must admit I do not
recall, anyway even
this effect lent very
little to his appeal. He
sat there at the same
counter as I slumped
forward from the
very edge of his stood
so that his elbows laid
harshly on the
counter and his hands
lay stretched over the
far edge. He was, as I
mentioned, a
dreadfully boring
individual.

However, he did
manage to carry my
interest in at least one
respect. He carried it
gently in his fingers
like young naive girls
hold their love's
flowers or better still
as a woman holds
their memories long
after the flowers
have died. It was a
ring, simple by
definition elegant by
design and well
beyond his class. It
seemed to me a very
stark contrast, a living
breathing paradox,
which, other than the
ring's beauty itself,
was primarily what
held my attention.

"Let me show you
something."

I was aware of this
subconscious echo, but
I did not acknowlege it.
I was content to
merely look at the ring
as it shimmered in the
light. It was beautiful.

"I bought this a long
time ago, when I was
still young."

Because my previous
glance had announced
him to be a young man
of approximately my
age, I did not at all like
what this comment
implied. Shadows
added age to the figure
but surely this was
just and added illusion
of the sun - yes it
was at dusk when I
saw him, I now
remember because the
particular expression
I saw on his face was
such that one could tell
it apart from the hope
of dawn. But of
course, that is
irrelevant, or at least I
thought so at the time
as my concearn was
with that beautiful
slip of a gold ring.

He said something to
the effect of "I
remember" as the
first hint of emotion,
a smile, dawned on his
distant face. He
paused. His head
turned and looked in
my direction, though
not at me, and said "I
used to" then stopped.
Now you realize this
shadowy figure bored
me, surely, because I
have told you, but now
his stuttering half
thoughts bordered on
sheer irritation. They
caused me to politely
turn my head to him to
acknowledge his
speech, as it is a
painful custom that
all mannered men
must endure, and
because they
prevented me from
properly examining
the very object that he
had just invited me to
witness. I came to
think that this man
was paradox
embodied, an annoying
reoccurring thought
that only proved that I
was being unduly
drawn to the
significant details of
this insignificant
man, which I was
finding was an easy
thing to do.

"I remember, as a
child I would dream."

I, of course, ignored
such foolishness. To
know what one
dreams of is truly
revealing of ones
character, as is to
simply know that one
dreams or had
dreamt, and I simply
did not care to know,
but he insisted on
telling me none the
less. Nostalgia, some
might call it, but
choose instead to dub it
foolish small minded
dribble.

He continued to
speak, first slowly
then more quickly in
the same manner as
water rushes through
a broken dike. As if
the dam that had
held back these
thoughts according to
the rules of social
dictate were slowly
eroded by the words
that passed through
some narrow fault, he
spoke of the silliest
things, childhood
thoughts, theories,
hopes and prayers,
and spoke of them in
the most curious
manner. He spoke of
them like they were
real, as if at some
point in his life he
could taste the
warmth of them in
his mouth or feel the
sweetness caressing
against his skin.

His every manner
and every word began
to convey something to
me, and I must admit I
began to find him
interesting, in a
humorous fashion, of
course. To much in
the world of the
unreal some might
diagnose him, but to
me it was just the
opposite, to me he
spent much to much
time in the world of
the real.

I myself am a proud
and frequent visitor
of the world of
fantasy as is
everyone, more so if
they refuse to admit
it. I do not pretend, as
many might think that
this is a bad thing, it
is healthy of soul and
spirit just to vacation
there. Why nothing
could be rightly done
if one did not visit, a
fact that I long
believed but could
never prove until this
unhappy meeting.



----

[[Category:Alphabetical by Title]]
[[Category:Stories and Legends]]

← Older revision	Revision as of 13:23, 10 September 2012
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Let Me Show You Something: Book 1 - Revision history

Abbot Eventide: Protected "Let Me Show You Something: Book 1" (‎[edit=sysop] (indefinite) ‎[move=sysop] (indefinite))

Abbot Eventide: Created page with "'''Title: Let me show you something: Book 1 ''' '''Author: Styvnn ''' I had been sitting there quietly as the morning sun poured through the window of just another din..."