This strange haze of
memories
That slowly fade into
dust
Makes my heart pound
serene
And my soul rest in a
calm and quiet peace.
I lay my head on a
pillow of soft white feathers
And a bed of crimson
petals
To dream of angels
Soothing my pain away.
Their wings embrace me
And make me feel
comfortable
Protected and
heartfelt
Like a lover in the lover’s arms.
***
- Why do you still cry
over this? It happened such a long time ago. It belongs to the past.
- I think I’ve never
really overcome it…
- You must. This is
not good for you.
That young man, whose eyes never seem to follow
his smile, smirked sadly. Why would he keep his grief for so long? That made no
much sense anymore.
***
The two friends sat in the rocking chairs, on
the balcony, watching the sun slowly sliding down in the horizon. Each head was
so busy with their own thoughts that the interruption felt like an interference
to that quiet peace, that was being violated by what was nothing more than an
extension of the thoughts and that expressed the concrete weight of the words.
- I once had a
brother.
- Well, you have me
now. I’m almost a brother for you, anyway. Some friends are closer than
brothers, did you know that?
- Never thought about
that, really.
- People say friends
are brothers we choose to relate with.
- Where do you get
these things from?
- Well, I read a lot.
The young men wearing glasses tried to smile,
but it did not work. His friend was concerned about his sanity. He seemed to be
absent-minded very often lately. They have avoided talking about the past for a
long time. But the ghosts do not simply vanish in the memory. They can hide
away for a while, but they do not die. It seemed it was one of those occasions
when they were coming back from the darkness where they were buried to expose
themselves to the light, for some inexplicable reason.
- Don’t you think
about what happened? Don’t you miss them, sometimes?
- Them?
- Your family…
- I do.
- I’m glad you do. I
do too and lately very often.
- Why?
- I miss them so much.
- You know that past
is buried, literally.
- Maybe not…
The young man looked at his friend’s face. His
eyes were sadly lost in the distance. Grieve and pain were still so alive in
those sad eyes, they seem to materialize in front of them.
- We’ve got to move
on, like we always did.
- Yeah. Right. You
talk as if that was so easy to do. I wish we could travel in time and change
what happened. Then things could be so much different now.
- But we can’t.
- Are you really sure?
He smiled. It seemed some insane idea had come
to his mind.
- What are you
thinking about?
- I had an idea. There
is someone we’ve got to see on the weekend, when nobody will raise any
suspicion, if we leave our quarters.
- Oh. No!
***
- That is not
possible! If it was I would have come back there.
- There? There is no
there anymore! It was blown off and completely destroyed.
- Some time earlier,
before the destruction… maybe.
- That world is not
there anymore…
- You would not understand.
I don’t know if I do either, if I think too much about it.
- There must be a way.
It’s very important to me… to us…
- You do not seem to
get it. I can’t help you. I’m just a clone, not a scientist. I’m the creation,
not the creator.
***
- There must be a way.
- Stop being silly.
You know there is no way... at least for now… in this era.
- I won’t give up.
- You should. You
sound like a stubborn madman already…
***
- ‘Oumuamua’?
- Yes. It means the
"first distant messenger".
- I can imagine the
confusion that it is causing to the scientists, who are trying to explain that
strange kind of… apparition, to say the least.
- Yes. The theories
are so vain and empty still. They are so lost.
- I have one theory and
I think that could be the key to what we are looking for.
- Oh. Stop that! I’ve
never heard such nonsense.
- I am sure our friend
will agree with me. We’ve got to visit him one more time…
- Oh, sweet Lord! Here
we go again!
***
