In Search Of Well — series
Volume One
"BLUE DEMON (Source of Water)"
‘COPYRIGHT’
Copyright © 2024 M.Wali Abbas All rights reserved.
The following storyline is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
No part of this publication can be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews and other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.
For permission requests, please contact at, bluedemonnovel@gmail.com
Original character illustrations, concept arts : by Author.
Genres: Fiction | Dark Fantasy | Sci-Fi | Action | Adventure | Supernatural
Since year: 2021 – 2024.
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— CHAPTER ONE —
"A Man Who Lost. (Eclipse of Dawn)"
“…as Afroza. Vhereas for me, the letter ‘double u (w)’ is forbidden, so I alvays replace it vith letter ‘V’ to pronounce or to rite. It definitely makes my vocabulary akvard (awkward) by this unfamiliar replacement. But this is the only vay.”
In the dimly lit room, silence was hearable like a living breath whispering serenity and despair in equal measure—until the sharp, relentless scratching sound of a pen broke through the air. It was urgently scribbling across the rough paper. A man in a black velvet coat with its hood draped around his neck, was writing the final pages of a thick book.
Hunched over a weathered desk with his legs folded beneath him, he had mid-length ash-colored hair—twirling around his face, casting dancing shadows across his pale face. There, the only source of light was a faint white glow from a lantern in the right corner of the table, seemingly like a lone star in the night sky.
Eyes filled with a mix of fear and sorrow, his breathed in shallow, quick inhales, and his hands were trembling slightly. After writing down a peculiar flaw in his character: alphabet W doesn’t exist for him—the man continued to write the last paragraphs of the book, almost as though he was addressing someone directly through his words on the paper.
He wrote. “Do you kno(w)? They say a boy vith the vildest dreams never dies before his dreams do. Throughout my journey, I have not yet discerned my ambitions, but I found myself alive, indeed forever.
Despite achieving nothing in my life but self-doubts and disappointment that brings negativities like those guests ve never liked, the only hope that kept me alive since my childhood to this very brink of adulthood, is an advice from a kid that said—”
He dipped the nib of his pen into the ink pot. The black liquid enveloped it in a shimmering embrace as he rotated the paper to the next blank page. His trembling hand hovered above the canvas awaiting his next words. And so, he continued to write…
‘The only thing that either hides you in the shado(w) of this vorld, OR casts you as a shado(w) upon this vorld, is a decision!’
It had me thinking for years and I reached the conclusion that… A choice of vell is not about making a decision, but its fulfilling. Among this darkness, fears, and hunger that is left along me… I am scared of fulfilling vhat I have decided. Sorry! Sorry, sorry, sorr…
Unexpectedly, the man began sobbing out of frustration. His tears spilled upon the paper that blurred some lines by blending the phrases to paper.
Apparently, his body trembled as he wrote ‘Sorry’ twelve times in a row, by recalling twelve fleeting moments from his past. But despite his low hiccups overwhelming him, in an instant, a strange energy sparked and his eyes widened. The man neared his head to the book. His hair framed it as he just focused on writing a little more.
“I am sorry! But it vas necessary.” His face was a testament to his crumbling soul, mirroring the depth of his fearful thoughts. “I kno you vill, you are reading this. Everyone must kno the value of it. Let them kno about the shado(w) they have been ignoring… until it expanded menacingly like the nightfall salloing (swallowing) their candles of hopes.”
With a surge of anxiety coursing through his veins, he wrote the last words so fast and forcefully that he broke the nib of his pen.
The man gasped heavily and stood up in a rush!
“It is time,” he said to himself, his voice filled with despair and devoid of emotions.
Breathing heavily, he firmly clutched the book in his right hand, its weight pressed against his chest as he held it closer. Then, with a swift yet determined motion, the man walked out of that one-roomed, old wooden house which contained wooden boundaries after the veranda-like space. The door closed behind him with a sharp, woody creaking sound that reverberated through the silent surroundings.
Standing tall, the man looked ahead—far in the distance where the horizon met the sky with beautiful hues of pink and golden. The sun was rising majestically as if peeking from behind the earth, from behind those colossal mountains that were stretched as far as an eye could see. And atop of one of them, he was standing contemplative right before his small house, not blinking his eyes as he was momentarily in awe.
There was no existence of life, of course, but only mountains to the heavens, their rugged peaks bathed in warm, radiant sunlight. Albeit, it was a scenery of tranquility, but surprisingly, the man was rather astounded than soothed when he glanced around the foreground—noticing the mountain’s summit he was at, changed.
The mountain summit, where his wooden house stood—now felt so unfamiliar that he couldn’t help but wonder how much the once-familiar surroundings had changed. He murmured quietly, “Just ho(w) long was I isolated within the confines of my house?” He glanced back over his shoulder, staring at the home he left behind.
However, as a gentle breeze passed by, tousling the man’s hair and coat. He filled his lungs with a deep breath, tilted his head downward, and began walking toward the mountain’s cliff in the distance, his expression quite blank.
With each step, silent tears began to fill his eyes. So, he covered his face with his left hand, while drawing closer to the cliff’s edge. But abruptly, his brows furrowed and he looked at the book in his hand. His mouth slightly agape, his eyes widened in a startled expression — as then strangely, he spoke softly to the empty air, speaking to no one in particular.
“It has been years,” The man said, his voice deep yet barely more than a whisper. “Ho(w) many?” His gaze drifted into the endless sky, searching for something to measure time. “I cannot even say,” he added, his brows now knitting slightly when a depressed laugh escaped him, and for a brief moment, his eyes seemed to blur as though stranded between two worlds or more. “Honestly, I do not remember because I found my reality merged with my imaginations,” His parched lips trembled as he exhaled a faint smoke into the chill air, whistling winds.
“I do not kno have I been (w)riting or being (w)ritten, but I kno that…”
He paused his steps abruptly!
“I am being read.” He breaks the fourth wall, addressing you, of course the readers, with a serious look on his face. And then again, he resumed his determined march towards the mountain’s cliff he had initially left the house to reach for.
“Read by them (w)ho are probably vondering, (w)ho am I speaking to?” Said he aloud. His voice barely above a whisper, carried a constant weight of melancholy. “Or, vhat am I even muttering for?” he sighed. “But I still have nothing to tell.” He glanced at the rising sun. “All my characters (characteristics), relations, emotions and fears… I lost in the vay. All that is left is just me and my loneliness.”
Pausing speaking as he finally stepped on the cliff’s edge, he extended one foot out into the air, suspending it over the void. He gazed downward, witnessing the sea of clouds stretched below. Floating softly just down the jutted cliffs of the mountains, filled the atmosphere like light mist.
The man’s expressions shifted again into enthusiasm this time. A faint grin barely creased at the corners of his lips, and his tear-filled eyes wide with a childlike awe as he marveled at the clouds beneath his feet.
He seemed holding back his joy, but it wasn’t unnoticeable either—the joy of a boy lost in the enchantment of seeing clouds for the first time, or perhaps the joy of feeling the freedom of standing over the top of an endless sky.
The man’s depression laced voice rose again, his words came out in disjoint pieces. “I used to say,” he said, now thoughtfully as he looked back in time to find the words. His cloak gently flapping in the breeze. “‘alvays keep your laughter high because you never kno vhen you vill mourn forever.’” He closed his eyes. “But as of no(w) I realize,” he blew out a heavy sigh from his nostrils. “It is even impossible to rejoice vhen I am standing at the destination I feared the most.”
And the man jumped off the cliff!
So rapidly, the clouds were rushing upward as he was descending with an incredible speed. The winds were howling fiercely his ears, lifting his hair into chaotic, unease spears.
Apparently, the man seemed to be overtaken by hysteria, as he erupted into loud, uncontrollable laughter while plummeting through the winds like a mole in the cloudy void. With his head towards the distant earth, and the sky beneath his feet, undoubtedly, he could sense himself nearing to the ground with each heartbeat but he seemed as if waiting to embrace his fall with all enthusiasm.
Even yet, amidst the expanse of air, with no soul to address and no anchor to hold onto, he again began speaking aloud to the howling wind, his words dissolving into them.
“Destinations?” Said he not only along with the chuckles, but in a voice laced with enthusiasm. He laughed, “Ha! I just cannot figure out this concept. Vhat destinations are they talking about? The journey is enough for us travellers. Though they say!” he added. “They say if a system reaches its limits… it needs a reboot. But I am tired of vandering around the vorld in search of vhat are my limits? Vhen…” He abruptly paused speaking. In the meantime, his voice shifted in tone, now carrying a sense of foreboding.
“Vhen I, Kayne Vali, am the curse upon mankind.” he proclaimed.
Apparently, the narration was done by the man as he revealed his name. Strange chuckles remained escaping him effortlessly, echoing like a menacing cacophony in the void, despite the winds roaring all around him.
And with that, suddenly, Vali’s body seemed to be caught by unseen glitches rippling through his form including his attire. He seemed as though fading away in real-time, piece by piece, like getting erased by an invisible force of his fate. His arms and legs disappeared, submerged into the clouds that passed him above, while he was descending towards the ground so fast.
In the meantime, as now Earth came into sight so down below him, a serene smile came on his lips, accompanied by two teardrops from his eyes that were carried by the winds above until they vanished, mingled into the clouds like his erased limbs.
Amidst this arcane situation unfolding, Vali’s face vanished into nothingness, leaving behind just a haunting blankness (skin) to be seen.
At the time being, he seemed nothing more than a figure covered in a heavy, black cloak against the shining sunrise peering slightly from behind the mountains’ peaks. It was when finally, a chorus of several voices erupted from him. Each one carrying a distinct and joyful tone as though several people in one, echoed all together just to complete the final declaration of Kayne Vali.
“I… am the ‘Cursed Era of Valkaniz’!”
— TO BE CONTINUED —
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