Wednesday, January 4, 2017

The Stitcher of Souls - Chapter 5

Chapter 5: A performance by a peculiar Heart

Quinn was still unshelled.
But she could perceive the dark tunnel she rode in, in her heart formed chair. She could hear the metronomic ticking as the chair followed the red trail leading to a bigger one, where the chairs where turned around to face the partially lit stage. She could already see a part of it and also the musicians in the back, concealed in the darkness. When her chair was turned around she could see that the lights where directed at the middle of the stage and they were colored in the same red hue that seemed to envelop the entire theatre.
She could even the see the theatre, from everywhere.
The white, glowing ball she was, had let loose a small thread that reached up and spread into a big fan that perceived the people unshelled in their specific seats.
She could see that every seat was filled and she could feel what they felt, see what they saw. She felt their emptiness and the kathunk-kathunk and saw their sight at the, from their position, gigantic stage and the heart formed seats that stood there in a row, elevated from the ground.
The Honorary Row.
Moving up, she saw three spade formed windows carved into the wall, near the open ceiling with the colorful letters. She could feel a certain presence there. She felt its majesty, its importance and its overwhelming power. It was something entirely different than the other people in the theatre or the Hearts or even her. It was more concealed, like she was merely watching through a hole in a wall – a mischievous child trying to look in the dangerous garden of her strange neighbor. And she wanted to get closer, see what this soul had to hide and why he hid himself. But the red strings had noticed that she’d gone off and pulled her back forcefully. That was also when the red lights dimmed and the first chair from the Honorary Row was tilted in the air. The red strings had released their grasp on the chair and it carefully floated in the air, as if the red strings had been the only thing keeping it from doing so. Then the chair came down like a light feather on the stage. The chair disappeared and the performer already stood in position. She slowly turned around and the music started to play.
And so, one by one the performers floated towards the stage and disappeared like their chairs had afterwards. They all had their own unique kind of performing – even if four people had danced, each dance was different, one ferocious, lighting the fire in the souls, another sensual filling them with pleasure. Some sang, too, like the girl in the ball gown and her pride was even more overwhelming, but seemed to let souls swell up with pride to for a moment.
Then the girl with sky blue hair had been brought to the stage. Before the chair could reach the ground she fell out of the air, her hair waving behind her like the ocean and her vest a big gulf in it. As soon as her feet touched the ground, the people, the Hearts and Quinn held their breath – though they did not breathe. For a minute it seemed as if there was no beating of hearts – the ­kathunk-kathunk had disappeared and it was only her and the audience. She started to dance.
And the dancing made everyone move like an ocean, like big gulfs that reached the beach and were pulled back again – that pull, that, was her dancing. She just had this… beauty. This dreaminess. This calmth. This serenity.
And soft chiming of the bells around her ankles, lulled everyone into a sleepy state, only to be woken up again by her singing voice. Oh – the sound that emerged! It started with a burbling river that streamed into the raging sea that vaporized into the clouds carried by the wind where the birds flew past and sang their songs as they neared the horizon – it was that and more. Something divine even.
But who could describe it exactly the way it was?
The beauty of it all was that she knew. The one who sang this mesmerizing lullaby knew what she did to her audience. How she danced around with their souls, how she gave them a warmth no one could give. How she enveloped their very soul. Lullaby – the meaning of hers.
Quinn, seated in her chair, felt the ocean inside her soul, too, and they she pulled her. She felt her warmth and beauty, she felt even more. She perceived how the souls lit up and moved along with this lullaby. She felt their eyes fixed on the performer. But she also felt the performer and the love for what she did. Her knowledge of what she did. Her shamelessness for what the she did.
Her voice carrying words with a meaning only she understood – this performance was not only meant to please her audience, but to please herself too. To express herself like no other.
This was passion.
And, unlike the other performances, her passion was weaved through her entire performance.
Slowly, the performer released her pull from her audience. Like a caring mother, she cradled the souls back and forth and put them to bed as their eyes closed.
She left the stage and left them taken aback.
It felt like waking up from a dream.
Then, it was Quinn that was taken to the stage. Her chair was tilted in the air, but she had already slid out of it and taken her spot on the stage. She was a snake of threads moving quickly and chaotically on the stage, pulling themselves out of knots they made and perhaps preparing themselves for their grand act? She looked rather clumsy and out of place and if the souls weren’t unable to think or do anything, they probably would’ve started laughing and whispering, walking out of the theatre, even. That is, until the threads spread over the stage. Just like in the dressing room, this white, pulsing being started to change forms, turning into animals and other creatures – only this time they were grander and majestic, beautifully made and did tricks, as if they were made to perform. There were both imaginary and existing animals there, like the lion whose manes were now flames and whose roar seemed to release the fire from inside with it. A dove with grand wings, painted like the ones of a peacock. A panda with a cute little hat.
It was as if she always had been a Heart, born to perform and move the souls of her audience, though a bit clumsily. More one to get a laugh out of them than to actually move them.
And as if she realized it herself, she dropped her act. Literally, the threads fell to the stage floor.
A puppet woven by white pulsing threads looked down at the audience, at the souls.
She reached out to every single one of them, with her threads. Like a curious child she studied them as if they were exotic animals. Or, actually, no, not animals, because it wasn't their appearance or their behaviour that interested her, but all the happenings within.
The empty void that was stained by fresh prints, fresh definitions left by the previous performers. Definitions for a soul emptied of Self or perhaps brought closer to it – either way the definitions didn’t belong in the void that was either closer to Self or emptied of it. They could simply not attach themselves to Self. For there were only three things needed to define one’s Self – the blue, red and black strands were pulled at by Quinn’s threads, pulled closer to the surface, beyond the definitions. Those strands attached themselves to Quinn’s threads who like roots of tree that brought water to the stem, brought souls to Quinn who would connect them to Mind.
But then something went wrong – something from the inside started to fight, to come out. A monster waking from it slumber, cutting down the roots, eliminating the tree.
The lights in the theatre shone brighter and much too fast her vision moved. Souls falling back into their seats, fearful glances casted at her, minds returning and racing – chaos because of the unknown.
What is happening? What is going on? Why is the show over?
The first thoughts that popped up as the audience regained consciousness.
That girl…who is she? The prince – what will he say? She must be punished! the minds of the Hearts yell.
And before Quinn’s mind could do as much as return, she is pulled back from the stage and led through dark passages.
A voice whispered in her head, in soothing melody: “Run, please, run. Run, run, please. Run, please, run. Run, run, please…”

So I ran, not knowing why.
I felt like waking up from a good night’s sleep, as if mom was shaking me in bed and I forcefully got up.
I saw glances of sky blue before me, I felt a hand tightly around mine, pulling me.
Great – what had I gotten myself into now?

Now, who would that be, the one who is singing melodically in Quinn's head? And where is she taking her? She isn't like that mean dwarf from before, right? ...Or worse?
...What? Why am I the one who's asking? Why, because I have no clue either, of course!
Let's read chapter 6 together the next time!
See you on the next page!

[PIC ORIGIN: ; made by Gandalfleblond]

No comments:

Post a Comment