A SHORT SHORT STORY

 

 

 

From where I sit, eyes closed, I imagine myself journeying towards it, there where the absolute fount of inspiration can be found.

The road is long and I see myself walking, on foot, step by step, on the path.

The landscape to my left and my right is dusty, barren, and stony, occasionally dotted here and there with flowering cacti.

Because there is nothing much to see, I keep my eyes on the distant horizon, there where I am bound.

The road is long; with not much to distract the eye.

No people, no trees, no shrubs, just dessert-like land stretching all around me and a blue cloudless sky above.

My thoughts accompany me. My memories. My musings about what lies ahead.

As I walk, I create in my mind’s eye what I would like to find, over there, there where I hope to find my fountain of inspiration.

First, I imagine that when I reach it, my thirst will be quenched by the sparkling, sweet waters flowing from the fountain’s spout. This parched feeling in my throat quelled. This debilitating heat on my forehead and the sweat on my skin cooled. The dust on my feet washed away.

I stoop over the fountain and drink satisfying gulps of refreshing water and, as I lean up from the fountain, I see a whole city springing up around the fountain. I turn around and marvel at the beautiful haven I find myself in. A feeling of peace and serenity envelops me. I feel protected, safe, and utterly at home even if the surroundings are completely strange and alien to me.

I am in the center of an open immense open space that surrounds the fountain. Water spurts upwards towards a blue domelike sky and cascades down, becoming glittering diamonds of liquid water droplets caught by a golden basin of the fountain which then flows down, laying a carpet of undulating water on the circular space I am in. The water ripples outward towards the houses in the village that encircle this central space.

I hear the sounds of birds, the rustling of leaves on the trees, and softly, I discern the sounds of people going about their day-to-day activities.

I move away from the fountain, attracted by the sounds of life around me, eager to meet the inhabitants of this strange yet serene place.

As I reach the end of the central plaza, I see that it is encircled by a wide moat that collects the flowing waters separating me and the village I want to reach. I look around for a way to go over but I see no bridges. I stand quietly by the edge and collecting my feelings, call for my guide to show me the way.

“To cross the water, you simply have to believe that you can do it”, my guide whispers this into my ear.

And so, putting my greatest faith and conviction that this is indeed so, I step out from the solid ground onto the water. As soon as I step on the water, a luminous stepping stone catches my foot and, one by one, as I take one step at a time, stepping stones appear, making a path over the water.

This way, I reach the village happily.

At the edge, an ageless lady awaits me. Her hair is silver-white but her face though mature beyond years, unlined. Her eyes, wise and twinkling merrily.

“Now wasn’t that easy. I have been waiting for you.”