Do you ever feel alone in a crowd? And in good company, lost somewhere in the mountains and forests?
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I had a dream, I think it was somehow inspired by the legendary figure of @antonfjordson . I wrote a story about this dream.
English is not my mother tongue, thank you Jen Baranick @brokendowngolfcartsucks for your help with the text review.
The title of the story is Three Giants.
Once upon a time there was a green valley surrounded by high mountains, crossed by a raging stream, where brave people had built their village. They raised their cattle and cultivated the land that they had plucked away from the rocks and thorny brambles. The valley was bordered by a thick and dark forest, inhabited by strange animals, in which no villager had ever dared to enter. On the edge of the valley, where the plain joined with the roughest mountains, were the houses of the three Giants. Three gigantic men, 10 feet tall, of noble appearance. No one in the village knew who they were, if they were brothers, or where they came from. Everyone knew that they were kind and solitary creatures, and that as far as the elders could remember, they had always been there, in their big houses near the mountain. Time passed without leaving traces on the faces of the three Giants, who seemed never to age, eternal and immutable as those wild lands.
For many years the people of the valley lived in peace with the Giants, respecting those strange creatures who lived from eating the fruits of nature and the fish that thrived in the creek’s loops. Sometimes early in the morning they crossed the streets of the village, giving gentle glances to people peering out of the windows of houses to look at them, waving with small nods. The Giants harvested the fruits of wild plants, because of their stature they could easily reach the highest branches, which had the most mature fruits. They ate the fruit, and when they were full they would pick it again and give it to the people of the village. It is said that all the girls were in love with them, attracted by their noble faces and their big bodies, but the Giants broke their hearts and their hopes, totally immersed in their simple life, indifferent to anything else.
Every night the Giants sang. Their voices, otherwise unknown to the villagers with whom they never spoke, came carried by the wind, clear, powerful, sometimes gloomy. They sang in an unknown language, never had heard such melodies as those of the Giants. Wonderful melodies, which took away the mind and made you get goose bumps. The wind joined their voices, and sang with them. On Sunday the people of the village gathered in the Temple and their voices, in chorus, sang praises to the Divinity, and while they sang they remembered the songs of the Giants, compared to which their hymns were poor. And so, day after day, the envy of the Giants grew in men. So tall, so noble, so beautifully indifferent in their unchanging eternity, so unattainable their songs, so wonderfully strange their voices. Because of their stature they could do things that men couldn’t. They lived in the dreams of their women and their children. They were too different, too perfect. But they were not untouchable, men knew this and began to think. To make plans for revenge. To hate.
The men of the village took their sticks, their pitchforks, and one day at dawn, when the Giants came to the road near the village that led to the orchard, they ran against them, shouting and brandishing their improvised weapons.
No one can say if the Giants were caught by surprise, their faces remained undisturbed as they fled from the anger of men. They ran without effort, apparently without haste, but their long legs carried them away in a moment. Two of them ran to their high houses, one took refuge in the impenetrable forest where no human dared enter.The villagers came to the houses of the Giants and threatened to set them on fire. The two who had taken refuge went out and surrendered to the men. They were not killed, nor wounded in any way, but taken prisoner. The men took them to their village, and forced them into their houses, which were so inadequate for their stature. They forced them to sing their hymns, as they were so sordid for their beautiful voices. They forced them to live their lives, which were so mean. Years passed and gradually the Giant prisoners changed. Their lives and bodies were adapted to those of the men in the village. They became smaller and their voices grew bitter as they sang praises to the Lord. They aged. The villagers then freed them from prison, because they had become men like themselves. Those who were giants lived in peace in their last years, cultivating the land, marrying the women of the village, and raising their children.
But every night the villagers heard the voice of the Giant who had taken refuge in the forest. He sang his wonderful songs, in his strange language, sad and beautiful songs. The songs of a great heart that had remained alone, separated from his fellows. The years passed and in the village everyone had forgotten about the Giants, and when they heard that voice at night they thought it was the wind, that it was only the wind. But the children of the village were curious and in their roams they came to the slopes of the mountains, and saw the ruins of those that were the houses of the Giants, and wondered what were these great buildings, and who had ever lived inside. And one day the bravest among them decided to enter the forest, from where every evening they heard that strange voice, which could not be that of the wind. Almost immediately they lost themselves in the darkness of the wood, but after a few hours they reached a clearing where there were some large houses. Not a single house, but some others that had been built, as if the place was inhabited by many people. The children saw the Giant, he was finishing building a house, and they asked him who he was, and what he was doing. He did not answer, but began to sing, and immediately the children understood everything. They returned to their homes in the village, and every night they listened to the songs coming from the forest, listening carefully to them as if they understood the words of the songs. The children grew up fast, they became taller and taller. So tall. And one morning the villagers woke up and the children were not in their beds, they had disappeared. They searched everywhere, but could not find them. But in the evening, as every day came, the mysterious songs rose from the forest, and this time they were in chorus.
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Audentes Fortuna Iuvat. Fortune favors the bold. It’s not always true, some very daring people have had no luck, like these men and women in the mugshots.
What crime do you think they committed?
Why does George smile?
Who was H.C.?
What did Herbert do to be treated like that?
And Ruby, who was so young?
What does the noble appearance of Albert hide?
Let me know.
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Do you copy?
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Spots on Mars
The Cherry Blossom Queen
And the Mad Baron
As the white rabbit said
"Feed your head. Feed your head"
watch video on watch page
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In a room:
A number (42)
An evil presence
Nobody
Future with no future
The sea
In a room.
watch video on watch page
1 - 0
13 - 1
I sincerely hate you, Youtube.
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