⟣ www.❨ ONGOING ❩.com ⤻
𝗪𝗘𝗟𝗖𝗢𝗠𝗘 to 𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐒
⭞ a short story collaboration by @mxtsuro (plot + revamp) & @shxlomoh (draft).
. . . In the labyrinthine streets of Yerushalayim, Galateya, a German scholar of the...
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Dear Diary,
The transition from the mundane to the fantastical still feels like a waking dream, leaving me grappling with emotions that veer between wonder and apprehension. Never could I have imagined that a routine commute would catapult me into a realm where reality and fantasy dance on the precipice of comprehension. It is a boundary I never even knew existed until I found myself suspended within its mindboggling prison, uncertain of what to make of it all.
In the days that have unfolded since our arrival at the intermediate stop of Gjöll, I have gradually acclimated to a peculiar rhythm amidst the supernatural train and its eclectic inhabitants. The Wendigo, with his imposing cloak and enigmatic aura, casts a looming shadow over this treacherous landscape. In contrast, the timid Dvergr scuttled about in his wake, diligently tending to repair tasks at the station. Their palpable fear towards my antlered companion hangs heavy in the air, infusing the atmosphere with a sense of unease. The sight of the little dwarves' wary glances and hushed whispers initially sent shivers down my spine, prompting questions about the origins of their trepidation. Yet, amidst this aura of mystery and apprehension, I find myself inexplicably drawn to the enigmatic allure that surrounds these diminutive beings.
Over the past few days, I have become deeply engrossed in observing the Wendigo, transforming this odd habit into a pastime that grants me insight into the mysterious workings of our peculiar world. His rituals and behaviors, though utterly foreign to me, possess a magnetic allure that borders on obsession. I watch intently as he retrieves an ancient tome from beneath his cloak, its thick cover adorned with symbols that seem to pulsate with a life of their own. The colors---amber and green---mirror the hues of his eyes, and as he immerses himself in its pages, I am consumed with curiosity, wondering about the arcane secrets it conceals.
Beyond the charm of the magnum opus lies a fascination with the murmurs that escape his lips when he believes me unaware. Strange, guttural utterances in a tongue beyond my grasp, accompanied by a low, ominous timbre that sends shivers cascading down my spine. Is he engaged in communion with unseen entities, or are these the mere ramblings of a mind ensnared by the mysteries of the abyss? Perhaps it is my imagination running amok, but I could swear that in the depths of slumber, I have heard peculiar whispers conversing with him.
The meager sustenance granted by the substation grants scant solace amidst the pervasive uncertainty that looms like a dense fog. Its flavor lingers on my palate, a bitter echo of the unfamiliar terrain and the perils concealed within its shadows. Despite its unsettling taste, it offers just enough nourishment to fuel my onward march, though my stomach rebels with each swallow, churned by a potent mixture of apprehension and trepidation.
Furthermore, there are the persistent dreams---intense, disquieting visions that linger in my thoughts throughout the day, pervading even my moments of rest. It is the figure of a man, draped in garments of pristine white, whose visage remains blurred yet curiously familiar, beckoning to me from the depths of my subconscious. Clad in robes adorned with golden frills and edges, he exudes an aura of primordial wisdom, his voice a soothing melody amidst the cacophony of the unknown, offering words of solace and direction, promising to shepherd me from the shadows into the embrace of light.
These dreams unfurl before me like a tapestry woven from the threads of bizarre imagery and sensations. I find myself standing amidst a boundless, sun-kissed plain, enveloped by the gentle sway of olive trees under an unfamiliar ancient city's watchful gaze, its towering spires reaching skyward. The air is imbued with the fragrance of olives, mingling harmoniously with the caress of the sun upon my skin. And amidst this golden expanse, stands the enigmatic figure in white, a beacon of hope amidst the uncertainty that surrounds me.
Yet as the dream unwraps its delicate tendrils, his visage remains frustratingly elusive, veiled by a mist that stubbornly refuses to lift. I strain against the constraints of perception, yearning to decipher the intricacies of his countenance, but comprehension slips through my fingers like grains of sand. Nevertheless, amid the enigma, certain details emerge with crystalline clarity. His hair cascades in verdant waves, reminiscent of the emerald hues of a springtime forest, while his skin bears a gentle tinge of sun-kissed bronze. Despite the supernal veil shrouding his form, his words echo with a resonance that reverberates through the depths of my being, awakening ancient echoes and primal instincts buried within the recesses of my soul.
"Do not worry, my sheep," his voice softly whispers in the breeze. "I am the shepherd who will lead you through all challenges. Trust in me and your intuition, and you will perceive not just with your eyes, but with all your senses---from the depths of your heart and mind to the essence of your soul."
Yet, each time I try to question him, seeking clarity amid the swirling confusion, the dream dissolves like mist, leaving me adrift in a sea of longing and uncertainty. Upon awakening to the stark reality of my surroundings, I am haunted by a relentless question: is this man merely a creation of my own imagination, or does he possess the key to unraveling the mysteries of this strange new world?
Moreover, as I navigate this enigmatic realm, a persistent question gnaws at my thoughts: do my loved ones in Germany realize that I have vanished into the abyss of the unknown? I wonder if any of my acquaintances in Yerushalayim have even noticed my absence, or if my disappearance has gone unnoticed amidst the tides of their daily lives.
The unknown looms large around me, its secrets whispered by the wind and hinted at by the elusive figures that drift in and out of my consciousness. In this foreign realm, where the boundaries of reality blur and the veil between worlds grows thin, I cannot shake the feeling that I am being guided by forces beyond comprehension. Perhaps one day, the threads of fate will lead me back to familiar shores, but for now, I must remain vigilant, wary of the Wendigo's lurking presence and the mysteries that lie hidden within this alien liminal space. Only time will unveil the truth I seek, as I continue to navigate the currents of this strange new world.
Sincerely yours, Galateya
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