The Lost Blessing
Poxbone maybe does not exist and has only roved around in my mind, vaguely aware of himself, as an imaginary figure - but then, I am not a god, so all my worlds are imaginary. He is thousands of years old, perhaps tens of thousands, for I have not kept an eye on him and so do not know. But this tale does not begin with him, it starts with a foolish and shy god. Sptitup is one of those gods that even the other gods are barely aware of. He is kindhearted if he remembers to notice the creatures on this or that planet and if he senses they have a strong wish or dream, he sends them a blessing and drifts off, forgetting about his blessing and them. Often he jumps galaxies in search of new life forms, but I think the truth is, he does not care for any of them, what he is looking for is one with a dream that can awaken him to dreams of his own. His problem is, as I said, he forgets and does not stay long enough to share the dream he blessed.
But then, maybe the story should start with Shisch and Omischa, two faun-like people of the forests, barely sentient and controlled by the emotions and enthusiasms of a child. They played a game of creating a wish between them and Sptitup sensed them and spat a blessing upon them and drifted away. However, the couple, as is usual with children, they hopped, skipped and gambolled and their minds leapt to reach for new dreams and ideas, the previous instantly forgotten and they were no longer in place to receive the blessing.
The blessing lay forgotten and unclaimed for centuries. Though shiny, it only shone for minds which can dream, so it still lay there when Poxbone arrived on that hillside. He stared at the shiny thing and picked it up. Like a golden snowflake, it melted into his large hand and nestled deep within his heart, waiting for a dream it could bless.
It would be a waste of our time to follow Poxbone through the thousands of years he wandered around, only vaguely aware of time, for he could rarely recall more than today, yesterday and maybe the day before – not out of stupidity, but because the days were so similar and unexciting, that they would meld into one amorphous vague memory. He never seemed to need and if he ever wished, not even the blessing could sense it.
But then, circumstance prepared him for entering our story. It must be pointed out to our dear reader, that if there is a story to be created here, it is up to the reader to give it form and substance – all I may do is relate a bit of this and a bit of that, like multi-coloured daisies strewn across your path, waiting to be chained into a necklace of love by you.
Poxbone arrived at the city of giant boulders. They ring the city and myths are told of a baby monster being laid in an egg and then the tribe of its mummy and daddy flew above it, fighting those creatures which wished to eat the egg. They killed so many of them that they had to poop the remains and those poops fell in a circle to form another line of defence. But the hungry are always persistent and once they had broken the egg, the mummy and daddy tribe flew away. The people of the city like to think of themselves as being different to people from elsewhere, for they claim that when their ancestors ate the baby monster, its cells were so relentless in their demand to exist that they became part of the cells of their ancestors.
Their claim, it sounds to me like something they made up so as to justify their thinking of themselves as special. Most of them are not, but one young female, the Carver, she is special, for she has a gift. She never told me her name, so I have chosen to name her Diwi.
The official in charge of the city boulders showed her that one of them, maybe the largest, is showing a faint pattern of lines. Diwi unfolded her bag of diamond-tipped tools and with a light hammer, chipped into a line. She shook her head.
“It is not mature. Maybe we should wait another day or two.”
As they discussed it, dirty grey mists swirled above them, a bit to one side, and as it coalesced, the head of a massive monster could be seen. The official looked up, squeaked, and ran as fast as he could.
Diwi stared up into the open mouth and examined it. She could see how the flesh inside moved, formed ridges or holes (she wondered, ‘is that where the fire comes from?’). It was such a terrible thing to see that Diwi forgot to become afraid.
For a moment her heart skipped a few beats from fear as a monstrous man climbed up towards her. He only glanced at the monster above them and then went to a part of the rock which had a line etched into it in a large circle. He tapped it and then pointed at it as he looked at her.
“Do not cut, just tap it around the edges with a small hammer.”
She barely managed one tap and like a stone shield, it moved and then flipped, falling down the slope.
In its place was a large and very liquid eye. A midnight blue with flecks of silver floating in it. Above them, as the eye stared at it, the monstrous form dissolved into a dirty mist and it let itself be blown away.
(See, I told you that the boulders are not likely to be solidified shit, but you love your myths, don’t you, and would not listen to me. I don’t know what the point of being a Dreamer is, if people just won’t accept that I may know a thing or two.)
The girl came to her feet, but with her eyes staring with wonder into the large eye. She felt the large hands of the man gently rest on her shoulders and looked at him.
He told her, “It is time.” His hands moved so that the palms rested against her bony chest and she felt the warmth of the golden blessing pass into her as it rushed towards the place where she hides her dreams. The man before her collapsed and as his body lay on the rock, it turned to dust.
Bewildered, but with the feeling of a miracle waiting for her, she stared into the large eye and with all her might, she wished.
The rock surface beneath her feet crumbled. Some who watched said that what happened was too fast to be seen, while others claim she fell and was smashed by pieces of the rock-shell falling on her, while others say she fell into the eye and became a part of it.
Whatever the truth is thought to be by the city dwellers, in my dream she flew away with the beautiful monster and they shared many wondrous adventures, with always the blessing within her calling out to the god who created it, so that he returns to see that what he has waited for has finally happened. A miracle has flowered, so that life is, not softer, but sweeter, for all.
And now…let the story dissolve into gentle memories that drift and wait, for some time in your future, when it will be called upon again. Till then, may blessings colour your own dreams.
Αλέξανδρος Ζήνον Ευσταθίου
(Alexander Zenon Eustace)22nd June, 2019
- posted on Steemit: 22nd June, 2019