Third episode on podcast from Untold Tales Channel. This time we take a look at people living inside their dream bubble. How harmful might they be to the society? Maybe they are not harmful at all? Are they useful or something should be done with them? How do you see this topic? Visit coal mines, amazon jungle and much more to get to know my truth about it. Best of all!
Background music(all downloaded from YouTube Music Library): Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2 10:50 Liszt Consequence - Wonders by Kevin MacLeod is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution licence (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/) Source: http://incompetech.com/music/royalty-free/index.html?isrc=USUAN1100283 Artist: http://incompetech.com/ Otis McDonald Back Streets of Seoul 3:38 MK2 Tight Perm 1:35 Silent Partner The Poisoned Princess 1:49 Media Right Productions ship bell
Story about depressed souls whose psychological shield was not hard enough to sustain the life difficulties. They all made very desperate and same decision though they came from very different and at times distant places. What would be their fate? Immerse yourself in an unidentified space-time, in a snowy, cold afternoon besides the railway track.
Conversation in between Mr. Dot and his curious cousin :) Is putting a dot equivalent to the end of everything? Take this journey along with Mr. Dot(obviously sitting comfortably on your seat as he did) and try to answer this question while listening to the first episode of Untold Tales Channel podcast.
PS. Try not to go completely insane at the end of it :)
Untold Tales Channel contains surreal, short stories aiming at giving new perspective on things that do matter. Prepare to crazy, swift ride with no bars hold, into the maze of your own fears, doubts, dreams, observations provided in the form of sci-fi, fantasy, supense but always surreal worlds which emerge from chaos trying to assess the so-called order.
New story - new perspective - new world- new chaos within order.
We are frequently judged as redundant though we might have contributed to moving our society forward. We are sometimes disliked though we did not procure any harm. Who are we and what do we mean for the world? Listen and read to a new story from Untold Tales Channel.
Audio form:
Written form:
From
the monkeys playing volleyball in an outer space using planets as
balls to a woman taking shower which changes into the waterfall
splashing
straight into the big city centre. His
paint brush moved slowly along the canvas. It was almost ready to be
displayed on the most prestigious galleries all around the globe. His
previous artworks granted him the reputation of the finest new
generation surrealism painter. The new ones are going to match up
with high expectations. There will be numerous articles in a
specialist press praising him even more than before. He will be
revered as he always wished to be. Obviously, it will largely affect
the prices of his masterpieces at the auctions. Who knows, maybe they
will reach seven digits?
The
paintings have been created in the bubble. His own bubble. He has
been walking inside
it for the last 40 years. Theoretically he
knew he could do the same outside the bubble, but he did not. For the
outsiders his job was just moving the coal from one heap to the
other. They said it was for the benefit of the society and they also
told that he should stop daydreaming.
But
the bubble never disappeared. His co-workers quickly noted down his
mental absence and ridiculed him for that. He, however ridiculed them
back without them knowing it what made it the most perfect revenge
one might think of, as they could not combat it. They did not have
their own bubbles and they really believed in a bullshit that moving
coal from one heap to the other might help to build a better world.
Poor morons. He already accumulated decent amount of money to
purchase the painting equipment and he will show what he can do. And
it will happen very soon. Just a few paintings more inside a safe
bubble...
Abrupt
signal from material world awoke him from swimming in the pool of his
thoughts... He had utmost impression that someone was just watching
him. He turned back and saw a black car parked nearby his heap...
The
other side of the planet Earth, deep jungle.
He
was lying alone inside his hut in his hammock as he always had been.
He didn't want to learn neither how to shot birds with that silly,
long, wooden tube called curara, nor how to build the house, nor was
he willing to drink ayahuesca liquid which caused only dizziness and
strange visions he did not enjoy. Not to mention the ritual of
reducing the head size of defeated enemy his Jibaro tribe had been
practising for ages. The only thing he really liked about living in
the jungle were the lonely nights. Because of the constant humming,
buzzing, snuffling, moaning, croaking and obviously cicadas sounds
those nights should not be called silent nights. He loved them
anyways as that it was the perfect time to do with the greatest
intensity what he does more or less on daily basis, that is to
imagine how the world beyond the jungle might look like? How they
hunt for food, what kind of houses do they have, what kind of tools
they use? He was not scared of it. Just curious. He always wanted to
get there and he knew that such a moment will come sooner or later.
He was the one who asked most questions
when man from the outside world visited the jungle. Those man left
many curious gifts such as stick, which shines like a sun or a long
colourful something, which strangely fits the
size of leg...
The
boy stretched in a hammock and said to himself “ I am sure there is
no wizardry in it as shaman claims, there must be a practical use for
those things...”, he did not finish his analysis cause the
shaman entered the hut and said : “The time has come.” The boy
knew that his time indeed came. He was to be judged. They said he
lives inside a dream bubble and is not adaptable to society. He
assumed he was going to be expelled from the village what
paradoxically might even force him to look for the outside world –
his dearest dream. They went outside and he saw something he had
never seen before. Hundreds of men who belonged to the outside world
were tied in a circle besides fireplace and tribal fellows were
dancing around them. “ We are waiting for the last guests” a
shaman said.
The
other side of the planet Earth. Very cramped space.
He
did not know the names of his parents. He did not receive any formal
education. Up to the age of 25 he only knew 4 things : wretched old
coach, stinking red carpet and an old TV placed in a small table in
front of him. All of that amounted to merely 10 square meter. That
was enough for him. The monster who was coming there once a week in
order to rape him totally underestimated him. The boy built such a
powerful bubble that no one and never could break it. It sufficed for
him to watch the TV channels to learn the language. He also improved
his physical strength repeating series of exercises displayed on a
breakfast TV show. The boy couldn't tell what was the breakfast
because firstly he received from the monster food supply only once a
week and secondly he couldn't separate parts of the day from each
other.
Boy also suspected that contrary to what monster told him, the world
beyond 10 square meters really exists and is liveable and not
contaminated, as monster claims. “ If it were contaminated how
could the monster survived right there?”, the boy was wondering.
Nevertheless, what really kept him alive were the stories he created
inside his bubble. The grain of inspiration stems from TV images,
but the rest is the outcome of his imagination. Not always coherent
with the laws of physics or any laws at all. Castles on a floating
islands, bugs bigger than humans, pocket-size lions, stars which
could be reached with a bare hand... The boy definitely lacked in
perception of reality, but it did not make him weaker. It made him
far stronger.
It
happened when the boy turned 25. The monster came as if it was just
another day but it was not. The boy knew exactly what to do. The same
second the monster opened the door the boy greeted him with hit into
the solar plexus, kicked him forcefully and taking advantage of the
situation, for the first time in his life, he went outside. The box
he was enclosed within, was surrounded by trees, being apparently a
bunker in the woods. However, it was not time to contemplate the
view. He sat down on a still conscious monster and strangled him with
bare hands.
“
Get up. You will come with us”, the boy turned up his head and saw
two men in black suits, black hats and black sunglasses inviting him
to take a back seat in their black car.
“
I am not going anywhere”, replied the boy.
“Oh,
yes you will”, said the taller of two men.
Two
months before - the secret headquarters of the organization so secret
that nobody (including its employees) knows how it is called. The
conference room.
“
We have to eliminate them all. They are just too dangerous. We need
people who can work hard and do exactly what they are told to do
without unnecessary questions. And they are not fulfilling such
criteria”, said a chief of the organization with a name unknown
even to him.
“Excuse
me... Isn't it exaggerated to eliminate them all... maybe it would
suffice to...”, the woman in black did not manage to finish that
sentence.
“Oh,
come on. Nobody is talking about physical extermination. We just want
to kick them out of our society.”
“
But how we gonna do that?”, stated another woman in black.
“
Did I say that it is time for questions? We have concluded agreement
with certain Amazon tribe. Your detailed instructions will be sent
to your secret devices. Tommy and Jimmy!!??”
“Yes,
Sir?!!”, replied simultaneously two men in black who looked like
twins.
“
You will handle the 2 most difficult cases. And you will be
responsible for transportation of our secret device right into the
heart of the Amazon jungle!”
“
To your service, as always, Sir!!!”.
Back to two months after, vicinity of coal mines in an unknown
country
He
turned back and saw a black car parked nearby his heap. Inside it,
there
were two men dressed in black.. “ What or who are they looking
for? I'd better check it out myself.” At the same time they both
left their car.
“Are
you looking for someone?”
“
Yes, just for you. We are more than curious to see how well you can
paint.”
“
Ekhmmm, how did you know that...”
“
Man, we don't have time for that. Either you accept our offer or you
might forget about you career at this field!” “That sounds like
a nonsensical piece of crap”, he thought, but entered the car
anyway. “ What the hell are you doing and why is he
unconscious?...” He didn't manage to finish what he wanted to
finish as two men in black injected a drug into him,
which made him also unconscious.
Two
men in black along with intoxicated daydreamers headed south-west to
the place where flight jet to Ecuador had been already arranged.
Throughout the whole journey daydreamers were asleep. Men in black
started to worry that drugs they administered were too strong.
Amazon
jungle, Ecuador
“Hey,
wake up! Both of you I mean”, said a taller man in black. The
twenty-five-year-old boy along with daydreaming coal industry worker
stood up in amazement realizing that they were surrounded by the most
profound vegetation system on the planet Earth. Tall trees growing
one beside the other forming the sea of greenery, housing uncountable
strains of plants, cicadas, poisonous snakes, scorpios, harmful ants,
crocodiles, the king of bush- jaguar and above all mosquitoes. All of
it was just in front of them.
“Wow,
that's incredible”, said a boy who apparently changed one form of
misery into the other.
“
We are not here for a sightseeing. One of you takes this package”,
smaller man in black pointed towards tightly wrapped package of the
size of certain slot machine. “ The other takes machete and will
pave the way for the rest of us. We will secure the back and tell you
where to go.” The fact that the man in black possessed a gun made
this offer non-negotiable.
They
kept walking for 2 days with no food supply what made it pretty
hazardous owing to high temperatures and insane humidity.
Village
of Jibaro tribe
Just
a few moments after shaman said that we were waiting for another
guests , the group of four man,
two of them dressed like black ants, walked in. One of them was
carrying quite a big object, supposedly of ceremonial value. Two
black ants men talked to shaman for a while but a tribal boy was too
far away from that to overhear anything. The other two men were asked
to join the tied people in the circle.
The
tribal dance took three consecutive days and nights. During that
process the record breaking amount of ayahuasca
was produced as there was around one hundred daydreamers caught.
The shaman made weird gestures which tribal boy perceived as overly
excessive. After that however, something strange started to happen.
Tribal boy observed that all around him and his fellow, yet unknown
daydreamers, formed
real, tangible bubbles. People were trapped inside
them and tried to escape but it was futile. The shaman carried on
his, so called songs, so painful to ears; he shook his rattle and
danced all around them again. That time it caused all the bubbles to
reduce their sizes to a ping-pong ball.
The
giant, mysterious package brought by black men
was finally unwrapped. It turned out that it hit
the pinball machine...
“
It seems that all the things worked perfectly”, said two men in
black at the same time.
“It's
high time we played it!” After saying so they took all the balls
from the ground.
“
Ha ha. Do you hear that? They are protesting!” laughed one of them.
“
Hell, yeah. They wish they could.”
“
Put the balls and one coin. I will play first and then we will take
turns.” The pinball machine was loaded with 100 hundred balls,
instead of just one. It required from a man in black much more skills
than from causal players. The balls moved crazily and people inside
them screamed heavily .
The flipper were at constant move, bumpers were permanently being hit
by one ball or the other and the control lamps made a disco by
turning on and off on a perpetual loop. It was such a fascinating
game that even the shaman begged to let him play this.
“We
should speed it up”, he said. As insane as it was before, when they
switched to level 2 , it became literally unbearable. The human eye
couldn't have caught the balls moving so fast and if it hadn't been
for shaman who took over it, the whole
effort might have been lost. Using his magical eye, the shaman saw it
all perfectly and even accelerated it by turning on level 3. Hardly
after he did it, all the balls shot itself into the space one after
the other till the machine became empty. They travelled at velocity
exceeding the speed of light what made them all reach another
galaxies and perhaps another planets sooner than anyone else could
using more popular methods.
“
Ok, mission is complete”
said as always simultaneously men in black.
The
secret headquarters of the organization so secret that nobody
(including its employees) knows how it is
called, the chief's room, 2 years later
Knock,
knock.
“
Yes, please come in.”
“ We
have a recent development report, Sir.”, said familiar men in
black, talking as usually altogether.
“
And what's up with it?”
“ It
is not good, Sir. We are at standstill in almost all critical
branches of human activity. New technologies, economy, art,
literature, music, science... There was no notable progress since the
last two years...”
“
Why is it so?”
“
Humanity is suffering from the shortage of creativity. No new, brave
ideas are being proposed. We only repeat what has been already
invented...”
“That's
too bad, boys. Too bad. What are your suggestions?”
“
Well, actually we shot the most remarkable representatives of
creative elements up into the space just two years ago and it
appears that the only way to move forward for the mankind is to bring
them all back.”
The second week of my blog's presents results in second story being offered, same way as previously in audio and written form. Thoug same way does not mean the same way. Railway track is not the chair of Mr.Dot what you will quickly notice :)
Curious what is to happen when people of different age and life experience meet at the same time and place ( though some of them might be from totally different time-space than the others ;) )
That was a gale unseen in
a decades. Raindrops, snowflakes and heavy ice balls formed violent
air raid forcing the majority of living creatures to stay in a safe
and warm shelter. He, however had never been among majority. Skinny,
young men in his 20-ties was just 5 meters away from his goal. He
didn't care neither about bruises resulting from ice balls nor about
his clothes being soaked. “ This is definitely not a clothing
suitable for this kind of weather,” he smiled looking at his
T-shirt, shorts and trainers. But he was not in a good mood and that
was the point where he and the weather were well-synchronized.”.
The train moved at high speed and he was so close to it. 4 meters
remained.
A long, white gown called
Thobe covered him from his face down to the ankles. Over it he was
wearing long sleeve coat- Kibber. He was totally disoriented with
what was going all around him. From the Sky above God was sending not
only rain which he hadn't seen for at least 5 years but also certain
white balls, some of them were soft but the other were really
painful. He ensured his curved Khanja dagger was still in his belt
and said to himself “ That's for sure a place where dark magic
dwells...”. He looked to his right and saw a strange, slender boy
in a weird clothing in a short distance from him. “ Hmm. The boy
apparently doesn't see me. Good, I am not here to fight him. Wherever
I am, I will fulfill my mission.” The monstrous evil thing was
running at enormous speed just four meters away from him using
strange, metal road. “ Great coincidence,” he thought.
“That's not the weather
for the man of my age,” said an 70-years old gentleman holding his
favorite palm-sized rectangular clock with hand-drawn parrot in the
background. “ Thanks God I have this warm scarf, otherwise I would
not be able even to get there. I think that at least one plan of mine
deserves to be completed,” when he said so the huge ice ball fell
from the sky in a such unfortunate manner that it destroyed the glass
cover of the clock. Enraged by this fact he threw it at the running
train. “ It was only a crap after all,” he sighed looking all
around him. “ I've got a strange feeling that I am not alone...
bullshit”, he said. He was 3 meters away from railway track.
Small, a little bit
chubby, freckled 12-years old girl was shaking with fear and
shivering from cold. She did not know how did she get there. She just
walked away from her home pledging never to return. “ A little
pig,” that's how they called her. Her peers from school. Yesterday
they gathered around her. “ A pig should be in pigsty, don't you
know that,” said the mockery leader of her class. Then he started
to crawl on the floor and exhale oinking sound. The rest of her
classmates laughed at it heavily. Teachers never helped and were
actually never interested in doing so. When they saw that she always
tries to stay away from the others they said she is unsociable and
called her parents who joined in the criticism of her. And now she is
where she is. Just 2 meters away from the railway track. She already
took a decision.
“I shouldn't have
entered that cave,” stated a Bedouin man. “But it didn't begin
right there. It all started when I was sent as a trade representative
to make a new deal with a tribe living 5 miles to the south-west from
our camp. I was really satisfied with the new agreement. When I
returned after 10 days I was ready to announce a good news. But I saw
that something happened. Something wrong. They told me that he came
here alone under the cover of the darkness and took the honor away
from my beloved wife - Elmira. He managed to ride away at dawn. It
was Ali from neighbor tribe, located just one mile away from us. He
was obsessed with her even before the split of our tribes occurred.
Right then everything was in the hands of the elders. I begged them
four days and four nights not to punish Elmira. That night beside the
fireplace the judgement was passed. “ The sacrifice has to be
made,” they said. “ Her ird is gone. It's either you or her.”
Next day I took the old camel and without saying farewell to my wife
left the village. I knew what I had to do in accordance with Sharaf,
man's honor code.”
“ That's unbelievable”
thought old man. “ I am just one step away from the end of it. So
much effort... So many memories...”. He closed his eyes and saw his
workshop in the basement. He really loved all those devices. Each
cogwheel, each hand, each dial he made was unique. And obviously his
favorite part- hand-made pictures in the background. There were
people, buildings, animals... just like his favorite one with the
parrot which was now shattered. The amount of passion he put into
this throughout last 30 years was immeasurable. He was never brave
enough to try to sell it. His wife and his acquaintances told him to
quit with this” childish nonsense” as they named it. One week ago
he thought he gathered enough strength to finally capitalise on his
artworks. He even invited his wife to his workshop (before that he
never let anyone in) but she just told him : “ Dear Harold. You
never made anything valuable and you never will. Don't make a fool of
yourself”. That was just too much for him.
He is a very successful
young information technology scientist working for a giant firm. He
speaks fluently 5 languages, finished with flying colours one of the
top of the notch university and already accumulated a few dollars.
There is one wrong thing which doesn't let him live normally. Demons
of the past. He might work for a long hours without any problems but
then it happens. He can hear their whisper coming from all around.
The maths teacher saying that he is too stupid. The colleagues
pointing at him and saying “ Slow Faggot, Slow Faggot!”. The
girlfriend saying that she had to betray him because his is an utter
idiot. The father telling him that he is not a real man and can't do
nothing. Ultimately his workmates who tried to mock him again thus he
requested to work from home. From the childhood to the present times.
The whirlwind of trauma spreads open and drags him in. He tries not
to relive it too much. He tries to combat them all. Anyway he
debunked all those lies. He turned out to be intelligent man with
bright prospect. But those demons are too much a burden for him.
Broken passion, past
traumas, imposed complexes and victim of honor all met beside the
railway track at snowy, cold afternoon. They were standing just 1
meter away from the doom. What they did?
Another train passed by
just before the faces. What caught their attention was the long
spray-written sentence on it - “ Society isn't always right. Be
right. Solve it right way. Solve it your way”.
The Bedouin man was
standing at the railway track holding his Khanja dagger ready to stab
himself before that evil machine came up. After he told his story
aloud he felt relief. Right then he was ready. He saw that heavy,
metal monster in a horizon. It got closer and closer... When he
already adjusted the position of dagger, someone's hands pushed him
away from the railway track and he landed on a snow pile. What a
strange feeling it was for him... Who was that? Who saved his life?
Maybe it was that strangely-dressed boy he saw? No, it must have been
God. He decided that it would be unfair to let the rapist live and to
end the lifetime of the Bedouin who always served him well and was
not accountable for Elmira suffering. “ I have to go back, kill
Ali, take his head along with me and beg the elders for restoration
of my sharaf. I have a great chances especially when I will tell them
that God saved me from the obvious death from furious metal devil.
The most difficult part would be however to return to that cave in
the desert... I just entered it and saw a lake inside. I slipped on a
rock, fell off into the lake and when I woke up I was in that
devilish land... but if I couldn't return then who could?”
The one step separated the
slender boy from the railway track. He saw however a man with a long
robe. He was already standing there and pointing certain kind of
knife towards his stomach. In spite of so much harm the society did
to him he always wanted to spare the others the pain. “ Maybe
that's only the hallucination?” he asked himself. Due to the snow,
rain and ice balls the vision was not particularly too clear but he
was just too close to him to be mistaken. He started to run towards
him and violently pushed him away, seconds before train passed. ”
What was the sense of stabbing oneself with knife and at the same
time let the train crush you? Double death?” he always scrutinized
every detail. Nonetheless he was done with the idea of committing
suicide. “ That's what my enemies would want to hear.” he said “
I won't satisfy them.”. He quickly turned back and went home. He
knew he would manage to overcome those traumas sooner or later. Maybe
someone will help him, even if it meant paid specialist.
I am more than happy that
at that afternoon no final dot was put.
Here is my first story, treating about life and death. Is every and single dot the one which ends something up totally and irrevocably? Listen to it, read through it, think about it and share your thought with me :) AUDIO STORY:
I
was leaning against old, leather chair. I totally sank into it. I
like its touch and I like its antique character. I was at the attic
of wretched, abandoned flat in a city with too many names to be named
properly. My nostrils were invaded by musty smell of that house but I
was wondering whether my smell was even mustier.
I
took off my favourite, worn-off bowler hat with two tiny holes in it
and began to do what I always did when I was tired of myself – I
started talking to myself. That is, to my image reflecting in a
dirty, covered with pigeon droppings window.
I
undid four giant golden buttons of my long, black coat and withdrew
Springfield Model 1817 Flintlock. I rotated it slowly in my hands
looking at it from all possible angles.
“Yes,
that is definitely abnormal. It is also cruel and inhuman. Not to
distinguish in between blade of grass and five years old innocent
girl who walks upon it and a ray of sunshine invigorating both of
them as well as cold-blooded serial killer who is planning his next
attack 1.000.000 mile away from them all !!! ” I shouted and had to
stop for a while in order to take a deep breath in.
“What
are you looking at?” I said to my image. “You know it is all
true! Don't even pretend otherwise! You are freak, that's all! Only a
freak could be at all of those places and much more at the same time
lurking in the shadows, loading slowly one's anachronous weapon and
just waiting for a best moment to pull a trigger! Only a freak! Did
you hear that!?? “
“But
it's only my job. I had to just do something...”
“Don't
even think it exonerates your deeds!” I replied to myself
“I
do not. But if it is a job then there is a certain pattern involved,
right? If I were real freak then my actions would be rather random,”
I said.
“They
are random. You act without any plan! One cell organism, 100- years
old man, weather phenomena...”
“You
already made a similar list, OK?!! Everybody understood what you
mean, don't repeat yourself! If I fulfill orders then I have a pattern
and that's it. A pattern of order's fulfillment.”
“And
who is placing that orders?”
“Well,
I am self-employed.,” I stated.
“You
place orders for yourself? That's a pure nonsense!”
“Self-employment
is also employment...”
“Right,
right, right. I don't want to engage in such kind of conversation. If
you prefer to be called a hitman then here you are.”
“
Objection! I am not a...” I didn't manage to finish cause my image
interrupted
“...
a hitman. You are saying you are not a hitman?!! You who have so many
victims on your list! Who enlarges that list each day, each hour each
second, because you have this insane ability to be omnipresent... Even during this conversation you are at uncountable other
places just ready to put an end to something new. You,
unscrupulous... Everything breathes, spreads into new variations,
sets up new colours... How could you!“
“Easy.
I've already said something about repetition. Moreover I am not a
hitman cause a I can not be a hitman.”
“
I beg your pardon?!!”
“
That would be against the meaning of hitman. Hitman has to receive
financial reward for one's malicious deeds and I do not.”
“
Oh, come on! You can't transfer money from you to yourself?!!”
“Exactly.
As you see it is technically and legally excluded.”
“Even
if it were you would invent another excuse.”
“I
would not. It's just a fact. What's more I don't have money what is
another argument...” my image interfered and said:
“Right!!!!”
it screamed. “ But you can't deny the fact that you are a thief!
You take something which previously did not belong to you and after
your action was taken it ceased to be owned by a due, legitimate
owner of it... Why is it so complicated?!!
“I
wouldn't agree either.”
“What?!!
You are not serious.”
“I
am. If I were a thieve I would have to appropriate the goods
belonging to someone else. That means, as a result of my illicit
action, the goods of the legitimate owner would be in my possession
what does not happen. In my case what's lost is lost and I don't have
any benefits from that.”
“
I can't believe it happens. Right, then you are a destroyer. Ha, here
we are. The destroyer!” said triumphantly mirror image and I
couldn't have found a good answer to that. Thankfully we were joined
by a serious guest.
Who
are you referring to?” I turned back and saw a tall, handsome man
in a black business suit who was holding a silver metal suitcase in
his right hand.
“
Who's asking?”
“Right,
it is not so obvious as it previously was... in the old, good
times... Here you are.” He gave me a white business card with a big
name on it- Mr. Death. He knelled down and opened his suitcase
displaying large collection of modern weapons: pistols, grenades,
machine guns, knives and scythe. He saw my confusion due to the
presence of the last one and said:
“
What? I am a little bit sentimental.” I became more and more pale.
He noticed it and stated:
“Don't
worry. I just have a lunch break and overheard an interesting
conversation, cousin. I just want to talk.” He put away his scythe
and took a sandwich which was hidden beneath the layer of weaponry.
“
We are not cousins! We are totally different!”
“Yes,
really? I am more than curious to hear why?” said Mr Death munching
his sandwich.
“It
was you who protested when my image.. That is when I said that I am a
destroyer!”
“Of
course. That's my sphere of monopoly. I am a little bit touchy about
it. But we are partners, cousin,” he smirked wearily.
“No,
we are not. I am Mr. Dot. Mr. Dot, can you hear that? Not Mr. Death!!
I just mark the completion of certain process.”
“And
I finish with what you mark.”
“No!
That is, I label as completed also wrong things. The end of
earthquake, the end of war, the end of marriage argument, the end of
dog's barking...”
“Yes,
but previously you mark the end of normal relationships in between
states, couples, the end of dog's peacefulness....”
“
I protest...”
“You
might protest but things are as they are. We are both self-employed
individuals who do what has to be done. And we do almost the same
thing. Sorry about that.” Mr Death came closer to my chair and
patted me on the shoulder.
“No,
you are wrong! Not each completion means death! I can mark the
completion of house building, song, theater performance or a treaty
signature what doesn't render it dead. On the contrary they live and
are reusable! They can be enjoyed as completed!”
“Oh,
dear cousin, sooner or later, sooner or later happens what has to
happen...”
“No,
not necessarily! The end of something might mean just the end of
certain step to something else... bigger and better. Frequently I
shot in the air not at somebody! And without your presence!” I shed
off his hand and stood up.
“I
beg your pardon, but I, Mr. Dot have an important message to convey
to people” I ran off the staircase, opened a heavy door and got
into the street. I blended well with surroundings. All those
gentleman were wearing similar to my outfit, ladies had small but
nice-looking umbrellas and there were as well a few antique coaches
with white horses. But I was on lookout for someone who would like to
listen to me. Here he was - a paperboy! I got the opposite side of
the street.
“Only
with daily news : Death of the president of Paraguay. Unknown
assassin takes lives of three innocent young girls in London! The
storm on Atlantic Ocean caused biggest catastrophe in human history
with 160 people dead!”
“Boy,
Boy look at me! My name is Mr. Dot and my job is to mark the end of
each process. I have to put a dot at the end of each sentence. But
it's up to you to decide whether you write a new sentence or not!!!
Do you hear me! You have to write more and more. You can't stop!
Please!!! Don't make any dot the final dot! Always make a new one,
always expand on it ! “ I heard the whistle of a policeman who was
running towards me. I didn't even notice that I kept shaking the poor
boy. He must have been frightened to death. I took a quick look at
the attic's window of the house which I left just a few minutes ago.
Mr. Death was in the window observing everything from above and
holding a cup of tea or coffee. He smiled. The policeman used force
to take me away from a boy and handcuffed me. The crowd of passers-by
gathered around me.
“
Always write a new sentence and never let a dot to be a final one! “
“
Keep moving,” commanded a policeman. I did as he said being
accompanied by a whisper from the crowd:
