𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐙𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑-𝐌𝐀𝐍..
Not all heroes get remembered and surely not all heroes have it all; this story is about the hero who was never where she was supposed to be. Wrong place, wrong time, life gets confusing until a...
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Waking up was just as having my nose tickled by a feather which shouldn't be there; it wasn't an awakening like the one satisfying breath of freshness and reality, in a bright morning, after a good sleep which comes so rarely once we grow, but rather a confused fluttering of lashes, a numbness inside my bones and the overall stagnation as if most of my body already knew that if I was to get up and wonder about the feather, I would stumble upon things I subconsciously did not want to see.
But I could go back to sleep, nor were my movements my own. Sooner rather than later I stood up and stared, confused at an empty place swiling into grey fogs, through darkness and light alike colliding and making a crepuscular infinity, with a salty scent of a sea of nothingness at all.
Then I heard the sound. That vibrating mark which flickered, the sound of a neon sign turning on and buzzing alive with bright color. Thickets of grey fog were cast aside by the bright purple neon which, though but an arrow, pointing down, after a generous arch, seemed to waving me closer, trying to lure me in.
And like a headless moth, always flying to its death, I too followed the path set for me, approaching with careful, barefooted steps -the souls of my feet felt like floating- toward the materializing door undernesth the tip of the neon arrow. Once I stood right before it, the neon flickered one last time and remained steady, casting its violet hues on a pastel beauty.
The door was of a pale blue, painted over wood, and on it, little flowers and dancing ballerinas were drawn permanently by a messy painter who loved to leave prints. My only images of home were through the eyes of other houses of more friendly universe from the two thousands I have seen; sometimes, I wouldn't have what to do for two days in such quiet worlds, so I would make my way to a screening and see the emotion I am supposed to feel when I find my home play through a projection, in scenes of children running back to their family, families becoming whole again or even better... people making homes.
