In the Grave, we had countless stories. Whispers, bedtime tales... Legends on the tip of our tongues, illuminated by the clarity of a candle. The most well-known was the tale of the tear maker. It spoke of a distant, remote place... A world where no one was capable of crying and people lived with empty souls, devoid of emotions. But hidden from the world, in its immense solitude, there was a little man dressed in shadows. A solitary, pale, and hunched artisan who, with his glass-clear eyes, was capable of crafting tears of crystal. People would come to his house and ask to cry, to experience a hint of feeling, because love and the most compassionate of farewells are hidden in tears. They are the most intimate extension of the soul, that which, more than joy or happiness, makes one truly feel human. And the artisan would satisfy them... He would embed in people's eyes his tears and what they contained, and that is what people would cry: anger, despair, pain, and anguish. They were agonizing passions, disillusionments, and tears, tears, tears. The artisan would infect a pure world, dye it with the most intimate feelings.
Exhausting."Remember: you cannot lie to the tear maker," they would tell us at the end of the tale.They would tell us this to teach us that all children can be good, that they should be good, because no one is born bad. It is not in our nature.But in my case...In my case, it was not like that.For me, it was not just a legend.He did not dress in shadows. He was not a pale, hunched little man with glass-clear eyes.No.I knew the tear maker.
YOU ARE READING
Grave Lies
Romancetragedy comes into our lives. maybe there's purpose or its just how life it is. If there's a chance for you to get away with it Do you dare to run? Or would you rather stay? tell me.
