Finish The Story Contest Week 39 My Entry

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A Thousand Windows
by @f3nix

From the Little Ararat’s peak, Vartan "tiger's eye" observed his hometown, Yerevan. In the ample pocket of his tunic, well sheltered from the harsh wind, his squat fingers played with two graceful jade discs, while his steed, foaming with fatigue, seemed suddenly reinvigorated at the sight of home after months of traveling. If it had not been an animal, it would seem that he was moved. In Vartan's eyes, the only veil was that of travel fatigue.

Armenian merchant of precious stones, merchant son of merchants, he did not care how dangerous the journey was, nor how many moons had rotated above the long caravan: his mind was a precision balance that incessantly weighed and estimated without respite Indian emeralds, Burmese rubies, Pakistani aquamarines. This was Vartan's life since the cradle: he made a profit, and he did it surprisingly well.

A brisk early March night, something unexpected happened to him: he had a dream. Being an unusual experience for him, he awoke to throw in a far corner of the room the brocaded bedspread, upset and wet with sweat despite dawn’s breeze. In his family no one used to dream, there was no space for these frivolities. If he reflected well, maybe a couple of times he had dreamed of carving a gem or making a good deal, but he never came across those surreal dreams like a sand mirage in the ocean. After that episode, dreams began to visit him more and more frequently, as the unstoppable progression of pot-bellied drops in an August downpour. Frankly, it was a very unfortunate situation for Vartan, who was soon forced to invent every kind of wild night escapade to justify the increasingly evident dark circles under his eyes.

Then one day, while he was dreaming, the unthinkable happened: he suddenly perceived that he was in the dream. That first experience of dreamlike lucidity did not last long, nothing but an imperceptible beating of wings of awareness before the rules of the dream came back to swallow him and to dictate the story, relegating him to a mere spectator. Night after night, he began to acknowledge the laws that governed that world and how to bend them to his creative power. Thin and rarefied realms could become dense with colors, shapes, and perfumes. The Escheresque geometries of dancing fractals disobeyed space and time.

Gradually, Vartan learned to attribute a new meaning and content to the term comprehension. For every new dream he was immersed in, the breath of those universes and his soul were united in one single essence longer and longer. In those dreams, Vartan traveled in the folds of reality, learned the language of angels and played dodges with them in the heart of perennial storms of unknown planets.

Soon, what was happening in Vartan's soul could not remain hidden to the eyes of the family, his friends, and the entire city of Yerevan.

My Ending

Vartan awoke again from the new worlds he spend the night. The sun was already in the sky and the morning dew was gone from the grass. He was waking later the last few mornings. Today he had a clear vision in his mind. As he went to eat and drink he brought along paper and during the meal he began to drawl. He would not be able to stop until he got his down. He was aware his wife had entered the room but didn’t look up from his work.

“It is nice to see you out of bed my dear.”

He just continued to work. He almost had it and didn’t want to let anything slip away.

“Are you working on some new orders? I am sure you will be more yourself on the road again working on your trade.”

He could hear the words but didn’t really listen to them. As the images in his mind left no room for for anything else. Next the symbols started to flow from his hands. The poured onto the paper given instruction on how to build it. It would be unlike anything in his town. This would be the start to the school he would make. He knew now that he had to share what he was learning. Keeping these secrets to himself would cheat the world.

“What is that it doesn’t look like your trade routes. What are you doing? You have to get back to work Vartan!

His wife had come to enjoy the life his old work had provided. She saw it all sleeping away but he knew the truth. They had more than enough to keep her happy till this was done. He looked over the papers and grabbed them up heading for the doors.

“You will see this will lead us to true riches. To a knowledge lost to us.”

He found the location and started to arrange the building. He was able to teach the builders to follow his designs. Many thought it wouldn’t stand. Yet over and over again angles that shouldn’t work did. The built with amazing speed, It wasn’t long before the first buildings had been finished, That night he slept in the first first great hall.

His dreams that night showed him the working of the universe. He sang in the language of the angels. His mind took in more knowledge than ever before. He work late into that day feeling weak and score, He looked around him and saw what he had done. All the walls had been painting with knowledge he had gained that night. This repeated over and as he slept in the buildings that had been finished. The months passed and he now had a building to the arts, language, math, science, and one to the gods he saw in his dreams.

Vartan walked around the school he and built. The images could teach people faster the the books used at other schools. The fame of school was the temple of the gods. Many who came reported to start to have the same dreams Vatran still enjoyed. He had done was he felt was asked. Spread the knowledge that had been given to him. That night as he headed home the felt content. That night his dreams were calm and restful. He woke early with the rising sun and cold morning air. He went back to the old office and took out the ledger and maps. Now it was time to travel the trades routes again. But he would take with him the map back to his school and copies of the books he kept in the temple.