Yasmay Laetshi
Artisan
In the dark you here the shuffling of feet across the floor boards and the heavy tapping of a sturdy cain.
The sounds have broken your dreams and cause you to stir in your bed.
She shuffles her way down the hall way and stops in your doorway.
The crone lingers briefly for only a moment before continuing on her path towards your bedside.
Paralysed in confusion and curiosity you manage to sit up ready for anything. But she just shuffles on her way stopping at a chair to take a seat by the window sill. The moonlight dances across her scraggly gray hair and over her eyeless face. She looks at you and parts her lips.
Her voice is harsh and its difficult to understand her words through the mutterings and mumbles that cuts her sentences in two.
"The book is heavy, you'd wouldn't be able to lift it"
The crones sighs and looks from the moonlit sky to your face.
"You were Hers from the very beginning and his to record. Right from the very first page, and only She will read how your story comes out.... a long time from now.
He is chained to the book, or it is chained to him. It is a book of many pages. It cannot be stolen; he cannot give it away.
It containes your life. Every detail of your life. Everything that has happend to you, everything that will happen one day.
The things you've forgotten."
Her hands shake as she rests them on her knees. Her fingers are old and whithered. The veins like ropes across her bones. They might as very well have been stretched and made of thin leather and cords.
"It contains everything that has happend or will happen to anyone you've ever met.
Anyone you've heard of.
Anyone you've never heard of.
The histories and the dreams and the triumphs of the dead or their defeats.
The meaning of the patterns of the spots on each leapord is written there. Along with the truth of the shapes of the clouds and the secrets the wind whispers when there is no one there to listen.
Everything is there from the beginning of time to the end.
He did not create the path you walk.
But the moments are his to record. The time of space and of galaxies are in his book and he sees the difference between them.
Even now a page turns.
He is not on the battle fields of life and death to take action. But to bear witness.
Destiny contiunes to walk, He is holding his book, inside the book is the universe."
She pulls herself back up using her cane and shuffles back towards the door. And stops. She turns her head back in your direction and you can see the skin that has been stressed and pulled over the sockets of her eyes, and those empty orbs are staring at you. They see you, and theirs is a terrible regard.
"He comes..."
The old haggard women turns back towards the door and you hear her shuffling back down the hall way.
You gather your senses about you and head towards the door, but the crone has gone from your sight and left nothing behind but her message.
The sounds have broken your dreams and cause you to stir in your bed.
She shuffles her way down the hall way and stops in your doorway.
The crone lingers briefly for only a moment before continuing on her path towards your bedside.
Paralysed in confusion and curiosity you manage to sit up ready for anything. But she just shuffles on her way stopping at a chair to take a seat by the window sill. The moonlight dances across her scraggly gray hair and over her eyeless face. She looks at you and parts her lips.
Her voice is harsh and its difficult to understand her words through the mutterings and mumbles that cuts her sentences in two.
"The book is heavy, you'd wouldn't be able to lift it"
The crones sighs and looks from the moonlit sky to your face.
"You were Hers from the very beginning and his to record. Right from the very first page, and only She will read how your story comes out.... a long time from now.
He is chained to the book, or it is chained to him. It is a book of many pages. It cannot be stolen; he cannot give it away.
It containes your life. Every detail of your life. Everything that has happend to you, everything that will happen one day.
The things you've forgotten."
Her hands shake as she rests them on her knees. Her fingers are old and whithered. The veins like ropes across her bones. They might as very well have been stretched and made of thin leather and cords.
"It contains everything that has happend or will happen to anyone you've ever met.
Anyone you've heard of.
Anyone you've never heard of.
The histories and the dreams and the triumphs of the dead or their defeats.
The meaning of the patterns of the spots on each leapord is written there. Along with the truth of the shapes of the clouds and the secrets the wind whispers when there is no one there to listen.
Everything is there from the beginning of time to the end.
He did not create the path you walk.
But the moments are his to record. The time of space and of galaxies are in his book and he sees the difference between them.
Even now a page turns.
He is not on the battle fields of life and death to take action. But to bear witness.
Destiny contiunes to walk, He is holding his book, inside the book is the universe."
She pulls herself back up using her cane and shuffles back towards the door. And stops. She turns her head back in your direction and you can see the skin that has been stressed and pulled over the sockets of her eyes, and those empty orbs are staring at you. They see you, and theirs is a terrible regard.
"He comes..."
The old haggard women turns back towards the door and you hear her shuffling back down the hall way.
You gather your senses about you and head towards the door, but the crone has gone from your sight and left nothing behind but her message.