Sunday, December 07, 2008

The queen of contradictions

There was once a woman, who lived in a castle surrounded by a 1000 kilometers of desert from each side and bordering the desert from each side there was a bustling city of merchants, wise men, fortunetellers and every trade one would need or wish for. In one of the cities, pungent spices were sold, they were so pungent that every time the humble salesman laid them down on the pavement, sweet odors would fill the whole city and would be carried through the windy desert and wake the woman up from the deepest slumber. Every day, she would wake up and wish that she was on the other side of this lonesome desert that stretched as far as her eyes could see. She would then curl up in her springy bed and imagine what these wonderfully aromatic spices would do to her cooking, how they would transfer her mundane dishes into sultry courses that satisfy the desire for the novel and yet still containing a hint of ordinary, which comforts and soothes the confusion within.
And just as the suns centers itself within the blue sky, so that its rays fall directly on the solitary castle, 1000 kilometers west of the castle , a musician would get out her bard and start playing the most amazing tunes; those of solitude, hunger, longing, savory revelations and revealing disappointments. And every day, as the woman sets refreshments in the western terrace, the tunes would arouse her heavy heart, drawing a smile on her face and refreshing her during the hardest time of her day. And just as the musician would play her last note, tears of contentment and sadness would fill the woman’s eyes and one salty tear would fall on the desert floor and evaporate. The woman always imagined standing in front of this same musician that had kept her company for so long, and whom she knew must have been a woman, and tell her how much those simple earthly yet truthful tunes have meant for her.
And as she stands in her kitchen making her tea, just after sundown, her eyes would feast on the great lights that decorate the bluish red sky, forming a myriad of colors that made her giggle like a child. The colors reminded her of the past, which seemed so far away and yet she longed for it, as it was a time when everything seemed possible and very simple. The colors danced in the sky for some time until darkness took over and just as abruptly as it started from the southern part of the desert, it stopped, ending her felicity.
As she stands in her stable, located at the northern side of the castle, looking at the vast expanse of desert in front of her, she wondered why she never saw, heard or smelled anything from this side of the desert. She wondered whether there was no life there or maybe they were just ordinary people with nothing so strong that can cross this harsh wilderness. She then looked at her castle and realized that nothing had resulted from her own castle, that her existence wasn’t noted by people who lived on the other side; to them she was as real as the phoenix. She wondered whether travelers have spoken of the castle in the middle of the desert, she wondered whether they knew the story of the lonesome lady who lived in this dreary location. She wondered and wondered every night as she groomed her only horse, which was starting to age. Yet, on that specific night, a thought materialized in her head, a thought that scared her more than the drowning darkness of the desert; she wondered what would happen to her when her horse dies. Her horse was her last ticket out of this isolation and every night as she groomed him, she promised herself that the following day she would ride him towards one of those towns. Every night, she would promise herself and every day she would break that promise. Yet this night, as she realized the grey in her hair and the wilting youth of her horse, she made a decision.

Next day she rode her horse and headed for the side of the desert from which she heard, saw and smelled nothing and just as she left, a sand storm blew and swallowed the castle. As for the woman, she was never seen again or so the people of the three towns say, but they never really saw her. As for the fourth town, nobody knows that existed or not and nobody knew the queen of the desert and her castle. She was as real as a desert mirage.

4 comments:

gjoe said...

Well written ya sina. You got my attention alright. Bass if you symbolizing something or someone, I dont really get it :D
Please elaborate

marooned84 said...

It's beautiful. it reminded me of a story I read some time ago called The woman who rode away. It takes a lot of daring to venture into the uknown.

Cesario said...

Gjoe: thanks, I don't know if it means anything, but you're welcome to psycho analyze me, you know I always enjoy it.

Marooned: I am glad you like it. I haven't heard of this story before.

marooned84 said...

It's a short story by D. H. Lawrence. did u read anything by him before? he has a very unique way of writing.

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