"An isolophile's collection of Fantasies & Phantasms contains tales of hypnotic whispers of twinkling dreams, fluttering to creation in mind's unknown crevices as manifestation of creatures in God's mind, dreamt while cradled in the arms of sleepy i...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
" - but the townsfolk say it's just a tale, a mere myth...isn't it Father?"
The aged Priest standing beside me scoffed, "Myth? Reality?" and trailed off contemplatively. "Is there truly a distinction between the two...?"
I tilted my head upwards to stare at him - the leftover grey strands on his balding head, created a shimmer of halo against the bright sky. "Isn't there?" I asked unwittingly, and twisted my neck to stare behind me at the bustling town of Hamelin. My lips curved upwards as my ears picked the resounding childish laughter, and the busy chattering of the townsfolk going about with their daily chores; all blending in a harmonious composition - a lively symphony.
Searchingly my vision stretched a bit farther and there they were, encircling the idyllic town: the ten of the thirteen towering structures enshrouded with mystery; all standing separated from each other yet somehow connected.
"My dear, Katherine..." My gaze returned to the Priest and lowered to the ground, gliding across the vibrant expanse adorned with the blooming hues of green, yellow, white, purple, pink and red; "...mythology is simply a name accorded to the cryptic bits of reality." and over the eleventh and the twelfth lofty and impenetrable towers, erected as a mocking doorway to the chasm which lay past it, while completing the unmistakable demarcation of the town's circular limit.
The Priest continued. "When I was a child, not much older than you, it was said by the elders that: 'mythology is nothing but reality; intricately weaved by storytellers into a mystical tapestry'."
"So, the witch in the tale is..." My voice drifted along with glittering fuzz of the dandelion waltzing with spring breeze, spiraling in-between the two towers and beyond to the chasm, fragilely crowned by a bridge connecting to the thirteenth tower. The lone structure standing upright in all its domineering grandiosity, in the valley of majestic mountains, partially obscured by the dense forest.
" - as real as the stars littering the night sky; as real as all that lay beyond the azure seam."
"And the curse..." My gaze traveled expectantly to the Priest, but his shoulders hunched in affirmation ignited the helplessness brewing inside me, as my stare returned to the glinting tower.
. . .
I inhaled the floral fragrance of the spring blossoms wafting inside my room along with the kissing night breeze, and twisted on my bed, the coarse sheet a sheer contrast to my airy room.
Despite the comfort, a wave of searing dread of impending tragedy: of the overlooked signs of the witch's curse strengthened and unrelentingly creeped inside my heart, clutching it piercingly; making me curl as an unborn child in a mother's womb.
