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Alive Again

dreaming of your voice under the moonlight

dreaming of your voice under the moonlight

Jul 31, 2021

I couldn't say I was exactly feeling happy. Furthermore, what's happiness?

Silence. No answer yet. You only know what it is when you taste it, like eating odourless food while being blindfolded. 

However, I wasn't sad either. That strange peace night seems to grant souls at its arrival flooded me since we started following the path. Lieutenant, dormant, was still on my shoulders.

It was dark. Even darker than I think nights were supposed to be as far as I'm concerned.

No moons shone in the sky, which left the stars alone in the odissey of illuminating heaven.  

An absurd amount of tiny dots ruled over my head, without even thinking that the sun would outshine them a few hours after their reign on the sky started. When I realised, I felt really meaningless before their might and even a bit scared. The sky was beautiful, and I was... well, undead. 

My bones made a "clink" sound with each step I took. I liked the sound, it reminded me of an instrument, a song from long ago woke up in me. And with it, a voice did. And I attached it to a face. To hers. A voice so strong it could move mountains, but smooth enough to bend around raindrops. A laugh able to melt ice, a sweetness to melt hearts, and a mouth that could've conquered the world with a single command. A firm, kind expression that rooted in your brain and poissoned your thoughts. Her. The woman whose name I had forgotten, the one whose smile blinds my memory, singing the song with that white and golden instrument. 

I almost collided with a tree during the nostalgia-express'  trip. I got my feet on the ground again and realised there was a toll house by my side. I came closer and saw an open door.

Taking it as an invitation, I entered. It was an abandoned shelter from long ago with few more than a table, a few chairs and a pile of firewood. A couple of animal heads decorated the walls. It was nothing but a common, boring hunting toll house. Nothing left to do but to leave, I left and went on with my walk. the forest, as everything, ended by the bank of a river. A sign displayed a number of names written in a language that was already long forgotten when I was alive. However, I recognised the symbols and headed towards the direction indicated by the sign.

It had already dawned and the sun, strong and glistening as always, woke Lieutenant up. She let out a yawning sound and jumped to the ground. There she stretched and ran to get her breakfast. I, too, stretyched once she was gone. Not having her on me felt like losing weight in an instant.

Slightly faster now, I continued walking, knowing Lieutenant would join me again when she wanted to. The memory of the woman's voice still roamed my mind, and I used that moment of complete loneliness to put an order in my mind. Presumably it had been ages since the last time I did. Not only had her melody been printed in my head, I was also remembering parts of the lyrics, fragments of her voice articulating words. The longest part I remember is sung like this:

"[...] Staying still,

eyes closed.

Let the world just pass me by-

Pain pills,

nice clothes.

If I fall I think I'll fly-

Touch me,

Midas.

Make me part of your design-

None to

guide us,

I feel fear for the very last time."

I did like those lyrics, and definitely would've cried if I still had the organs for that. I guess that the moonlight makes me nostalgic.


Geklelo
Geklelo

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dreaming of your voice under the moonlight

dreaming of your voice under the moonlight

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