#birth3
After this first day, the traveler set out again. The night he had just passed had borne fruit. Crystal music was always present and nothing would stop her from following it.
The path he followed was very long. Days and days passed, and the musical guide had not disappeared. On the contrary, the music was intensifying. The steps of the walker led him to the hills. Huge trees covered them. For a moment he thought he would not come to the end of that thick forest that was blocking his way. But the strength of his curiosity was stronger than anything.
He made his way through the trees, and disappeared from the great valleys. After a while, the music that had led him so far was heard more distinctly. In the dim light of the forest, he began to see a pale green light. Was this the origin of this melody? He slowly approached this place. What would he find behind the thickets?
In the middle of a clearing, a fountain was dripping gently. The fountain was like a sort of haven, a place where the traveler could draw the strength necessary to continue his journey. The water dispensed was not only there to quench thirst, but also to fill the traveler with a new essence, connected with the place, with the earth whose source emanated. It was as if the traveler had to be in communion with the land that was going to bear his feet.
He approached it, glad to be able to quench his thirst. The clarity and freshness of the water delighted him. He plunged both his hands, and tried to keep the precious liquid in them. Immediately, his whole being was as washed from what had been before. The mineral water, saturated with the vital elements of this world, had instantly touched all the cells of the traveler's body. It was as if he had become another, or transformed so that he could endure the journey to these unknown lands.
As soon as his whole being was contented, as if by magic, the fountain stopped flowing. The man tried to keep the maximum of this water, as if the source was of paramount importance. He did not want this wonderful sound to evaporate forever. He tried to collect as much as possible. Do not leave a drop. Who knows what the water of the fountain represents?
For him, unconsciously she had to represent the essence of a prodigious being. This fountain surely had something to say to her, and the words she uttered were that marvelous melody that had drawn her to her. He did not understand the meaning of his words or the meaning of the music, but his mind told him that it must be important.
The fountain had said its last word, and the traveler had swallowed it. To understand everything, he should wait to know the language of the fountains.
The children looked at each other with that knowing smile that characterizes them. They thought well of Theodore's habit. It was not enough to swallow the water from the fountains by the mouth, but he also soaked his ears. They too must hear the depth of the waves.
Theodore had not seen the mockery of the children. He was already in his story, and today he did not want to stop.
After having absorbed the whole of the fountain, the traveler resumed his journey.
Nothing would stop him on his way. The star of days had resumed its function of guide. He was leading him to his destiny, and nothing would come to hinder the order of things.
He had been walking for ages, on a lost road, known only to destiny. This landscape, time seemed to have forgotten. Nothing had changed except the transformation of the seasons. But things remained essentially the same.
While nothing seemed to hinder his progress, an unusual event would change the course of its history.
Suddenly, at the bend of a road, the traveler was surprised by something. Frightened by the unknown, but even more so, because of the manifestation of something that did not fit with the serenity of the landscape, he stopped short in his march. He stood there, surprised, motionless, as if frozen in an icy cold that took his whole body. A pale glow had just appeared.
This glow went on increasing, until taking the appearance of a golden pink sphere. Everything happened in a flash. No sooner had he seen this fabulous apparition than she had fainted. He was blinded for a moment by this sudden apparition. A fraction of a second later, he rubbed his eyes for a long time, and tried to recover his effects. His heart was pounding. The spirit of surprise! He gradually took a breath, and came back to himself.
What had happened? What was the origin of this phenomenon? A hallucination due to the sun? A strangeness of this unknown world? So many questions clashed in his head, and did not find answers that reassured him. So he opted for simplicity. The sun. Yes, it must have been due to the sun. While the solution was found, he was finally reassured, his body spoke. A grunt was heard from the belly of the traveler.
"But of course," he said to himself, "the food, the food I miss, this body needs her to live."
With the sun beating hard this season, and the lack of food since his arrival in this world, he had not thought it would have a physiological effect. What had just happened was only a kind of hallucination caused by too much exposure to the sun, and lack of nutrients. Being convinced of the thing, he felt no more anguish in the face of this event. The reason had prevailed over the fantastic. So, he was able to start again, with another goal than to follow the path of his destiny. What mattered was to reach a bivouac and find something to eat.
On his way back, he thought of the fear of hallucination. He also thought of the loneliness of the place, the possibility that this road leads him to the madness of the unusual. But as nothing had happened, until the sun had returned to his home, he dismissed the postulate he had previously issued.
The sun was slowly declining towards the horizon. In the glowing sky, strips of frayed cottons were twined around golden purple rays. The landscape flared up again, as if every day the fire of the sky was burning what the morning he had conceived.
The air was still hot in this season, but to prepare his meal it was necessary to light a fire and it would serve to put away any visitors of the night.
Once his camp was ready, he went in search of food.
It had not taken long. The traveler had kept old ancestral gestures of hunting in him. From the civilization from which he came, this art had been abandoned, lost in time. During this time, everything had been done to facilitate the life of the beings ... From the family from which it was born, this art was transmitted. At that time, he did not understand the necessity. During his transport in space-time he had kept buried in his limbo the art of his ancestors which suddenly arose from want. With astonishment, today, he grasped all the meaning.
Little by little, he knew how to prepare a collar where a worm was caught. Returning to his camp, the booty so coveted in his hands, taking off his jacket, and using it like a tablecloth, he set his hunt there, contemplating it without saying a word. That night was not supposed to be like every other night. He felt in communion with this world he did not know. Nothing around him could hurt him. This world was within his reach. He felt that he could make the most of it, since everything was there, as graciously offered by nature. No authorization to ask. A life of freedom, subject to the natural order. Then, excited by this first capture, he looked to see if the surroundings did not contain other edible treasures. Shrubs on hand carried beautiful, juicy bunches. He approached them, took them, tasted a grain, and felt the edibility of this red fruit in him. Anyway, he had to try it. The hunger that gripped him was stronger than his reason. The small bunches blew in the palm of his hand. It might have been said that, detached from the branch that bore them, they lost their lives by losing the essence of their being. The traveler carried them to his mouth. Gently his teeth crunched the fruits. An impression of sweet sweetness fills his palace. They were edible. What happiness! He plucked everything his hands could carry, coming from between his bivouac and shrubs.
A festive meal was being prepared.
He picked up a handful of dry grass, a few twigs of dead wood, rubbed two flints together, from which sparks sparkled the grass and then the wood. Small flames rose in the peppery air of the countryside in summer. The fire crackled softly. Embracing the warren he had peeled, he placed it over the fire. The heat of embers soon licked it gently. The smell of grilled meat filled the place with a sweet smell. The juice of the meat dripped gently over the embers, vaporizing a subtle fragrance. While waiting for his roast to be cooked, he stuffed himself with the succulent red berries he had brought back.
He thanked this nature for having lavished so many benefits on him. Then the warren being cooked, he began to devour it.
After this gargantuan meal, he lay down in the grass.
Once again, he was able to admire the spectacle of the night stars, which lit up one by one in the sky.
The moon had changed appearance. A crescent drew a comma, as if it served as a receptacle for shooting stars. They always leaped like ephemeral acrobats. Sometimes they entered the moon, and sometimes they went around it.
In the thickets, cicadas and crickets were talking, singing the wonderful melodies of summer. Other inhabitants of the countryside were also shaking the bushes ... When a shooting star passed, one could say that they were applauding the cabriole.
This night show is a relentless show. To see him every night, we could not be jaded. Every evening, even if the melody changes a little, the actors are at the rendezvous, the story remains the same. Only some artists change their acts.
Another beautiful representation, he said to himself!
While the show was not over yet, he felt a great fatigue. These hours of walking had worn him out. However, to admire the spectacle of the night he had tried to resist the sleep that was becoming increasingly urgent.
The show drew to a close. The moon had just said goodbye. She carried with her her cargo of shooting stars. She disappeared behind a curtain of trees in the distance, shifting on a silver-blue sky. He spread his arms, rolled his jacket, then put it under his head. Before sinking into the world of dreams, he said to himself with a delighted air: Bravo!
Then he sank into a deep sleep.
While everything had been done to make him feel good, to sleep peacefully, his sleep was well shaken. What was he dreaming of? Who was he dreaming of so that his whole being would be in turmoil?
The memory of the people he had loved, also of those who had hated him, was coming back to him.
Those whom he had fled from the world from which he came, remained present in his memory. Yet he had vowed not to think of them anymore. But how could he shut his subconscious to all those reminiscences of the past? All his past resurfaced in an instant. His wife and children were still alive in his memory. They appeared to him, smiling, as if nothing had happened. He had wanted to forget those rare moments of happiness that had been theirs. This world, from which he came, had something unusual. Happiness was not felt in the same way by all the people of his race. He himself had wanted to forget, to no longer suffer from these differences. He no longer felt comfortable, knowing that others were entitled only happiness standardized by the hierarchy. But in her world too, the destiny mingled with the affairs of the people. It was this pitiless destiny that had driven him to despair of remaining alone. He had done everything so that it would not be accomplished; all dared to keep the little he had got from her. He had tried to find out what could have been done so that the course of history would be changed. Nothing, nothing but questions and doubt that undermined him. Afterwards, in the action, he had let himself go, without knowing what the Cruel Parks reserved for him. It was for this reason that the others had wanted him about the events they were undergoing. Was he only responsible for what had happened? The others were convinced of it. It was for this reason that they accused him of all sorts of things.
His mind sank into a great melancholy. He could not even remember moments of happiness. He collapsed more and more into a kind of mental chaos. A kind of death of the soul.
While things could have gone on like this, all of a sudden the dream became dark. The bad memories went from where they came from. At that moment, the light of the afternoon resurfaced. She showed herself over her body torn by the pain of memories. Slowly, she expanded, going as far as to wrap it completely. The golden pink light had something reassuring, soothing. Little by little, she entered him, until penetrating his mind. Inside his dream, he could now see her. She no longer looked like that ghostly apparition of earlier. She was more reassuring. But despite this, he could not penetrate her. Yet, this light, he felt well, that she had something to do with him. A feeling escaped from her, without being able to understand what it was about.
He did not try to find out more. And, soothed, as if wrapped in the sweetness that a mother lavishes on her child, he plunged back into the depths of a baby's sleep.
After these events, the night had been calm. In the morning, the day being up, for a long time already, the song of the birds woke him gently. A small ray of sunlight crossed the green fleece of the trees and maliciously titillated those eyes. He felt that his body was still numb with the roughness of his resting place. At the moment of his awakening, he felt the sensations related to his strange night. But what made her obsessed was the image of this apparition. Twice in the same day, once a day, once at night it was too much for hallucination due to either sun or lack of food. Despite these omnipresent thoughts, he had to leave. He managed to get out of this torpor anyway.
Having collected his belongings, he glanced at the whole extent of his estate for one night. Then, having noticed the course of the sun, under his rule, he started again.
Long days of walking had not begun his desire to know what had happened to him. During all the following days, on his guard, he hoped that she would show herself The apparition had never been shown ...
Nature, too, operated its metamorphosis. The weather was refreshing somewhat. The end of summer was near, giving way to autumn.
The campaign, which in the summer had been dressed in a green coat, now desired to change the wardrobe. The tones of autumn fire under the sun set the whole country on fire. The sun was there for nothing but reinforced this impression of fire. This season is the most wonderful. The flamboyant rubies, in the branches of the trees, shone even more, when the rain sought to extinguish them. The sky was crying to see the world ignite, and shed tears on a land he cherished. But even in his greatest anger, he knew how to mix with darkness and light, gold and lead.
All these days of autumn passed without his meeting a living soul. He thought, that this world was uninhabited. In these last days of the season, as the last leaves were coming off the trees, the wind from the north was winding around the traveler. His march slowed down. His whole body was numb with changing weather conditions. There was also the frugality of his meals, which could not maintain the body serving as a vehicle.
At that moment, he thought back to the appearance of the past. He remembered how she had warmed him up in his dream. Now that he needed it, she would be welcome.
Decidedly, she had to do it at his head, since he could not even make it come out of nowhere. It was not him who decided, but she who knew where and when she should manifest. The days passed without anything happening.
Yet one evening, as the cold darted the traveler's body, a gleam appeared across the path. This time it was not an illusion. She really existed. The only thing he could notice was the color of this light. Like that of his dream! She was there! Motionless, beautiful, limpid. Without showing what she could contain. It seemed to her that she was not as blinding as the first time.
He was like a butterfly fluttering around a candle. He turned around this light, trying to pierce his secret. In vain ... He no longer felt the cold that seized him before. He approached more and more of the luminous sphere. Gently, prudence prevailing over recklessness, he tried to sound the sphere with the tips of his fingers. At his touch, the intensity became stronger, without blinding him. Instinctively, he withdrew his hand, thinking he had made a mistake. The light immediately diminished in intensity. He wanted to know what the prodigy was. He tried a second approach, still on the reserve ... This time, the light increased in intensity, and changed the appearance of its center. The golden pink color became a dazzling whiteness. Like a pearl of mother-of-pearl, she was iridescent. Yet this brilliance did not last long. The white light went on decreasing in intensity. It was then that he distinguished a form in the middle of the vaporous light. "
Theodore took a suddenly mysterious tone. He spoke to the children, bent at their level. With one hand he described the apparition. And on the other, his confidence in the mysterious apparition. His voice was softer, but full of solemnity. We do not joke with the magic of the apparitions. The children pushed a big one: oh! when Theodore told them, that a form was in the midst of the light.
This form had the appearance of a human form. But was she? He felt it as the shape of a woman. Was this the fact that in incomprehensible situations, memory played tricks? What to explain the inexplicable, she imposed rational images? He had the impression that this form resembled a woman he had once loved. But no, he thought, it can not be. She can not be here.
That put his senses upside down. He no longer knew what to do or what to think. Stay or run away? Accept or refuse to be confronted with the unusual? He hesitated a moment longer, searching in vain for an answer that satisfied him. Would he act as before, as in the world he came from? Or was he finally going to fight adversity, with all that that entailed questioning? As he asked himself the question, he noticed that the luminous sphere had an internal respiration. The light swelled and fluttered subtly, as if it were alive. Had she heard the traveler's thoughts? Certainly ... The reason for his presence in this world was not fortuitous. She wanted him to stay there. He accepts the challenge! He could not move.
The human form in the middle of the sphere began to stir. A hand emerged from the bright mother-of-pearl. She was just as white as the light. He could only watch. He wondered if all this was a dream or reality. The hand was still moving in his direction. She touched his face ... And there he knew it was not a dream.
At his touch, the luminous sphere disappeared. The form was finally visible in its entirety. It was indeed a woman who occupied the center of the apparition, but not the one that the traveler thought he saw again.
She, she was white as snow. His body had been drawn with extreme purity. No defect. His hair was like pure gold with glittering reflections that would have made all the precious stones of this world palaver with envy. But the most formidable, were his eyes. They had the color of the rainbow. They gave off both strength and incomparable sweetness.
The gestures, which the woman made, were full of grace, of slowness. No eagerness. As if she had time! Everything was settled. Certainly it was a ritual; all the phases had been carefully ordered.
He then tried, too, to meet the apparition. He held out a trembling hand. The woman did the same. When the two hands were joined, at once, all the anguish he had felt, went away. The cold, which numbed him, was gone. Instead, he felt a gentle warmth that invaded him. He had not realized that the light of the sphere had completely enveloped him ... that at that moment, they were both in the center of the light.
He could begin to analyze this thing that had accompanied him in his dreams. He appreciated what that mysterious force was. Then words formed in his head. These words were not he who had trained them. They came from elsewhere. These words did not mean anything to him. Little by little, he managed to understand the meaning of a message addressed to him. He closed his eyes ... The woman held both his hands. Then she stared at a part of the universe, as if she was answering a call from elsewhere as well. Closing her eyes, she focused heavily. The light enveloped the two beings, hiding them from the eyes of the world ...
Outside, nothing had changed. The wind was still showing its chilling murmur. An intense cold reigned over the world, which, suddenly, had lost all the brilliance of its colors.
The earth fell asleep under the big white coat of winter ...