The scroll was so long that it would take a century to read it all. It told the story since the beginning of times until the very end, and here he was in chapter 5 claiming to not be who he was. Being unsure and so puzzled by the new chapter unfolding on the rocks and grass on the forest’s floor.
What made him more special than any other?
He was after all a very ordinary boy with ears, legs and arms a bit too long and a smooth dreamy face.
A girl came to him in her pretty pink dress and offered him a potion but he refused it not trusting the glittering eyes staring at his green grey pupils. He knew her from a previous place but not sure where. He was wise to do so because the girl had sworn to take his place in the story between the crowded lines on the yellowish parchment.
His mind was so confused but he was certain of one thing, he had a role in all of this and his presence was needed.
He started his quest to find the rest of the story not knowing he was the one who wrote it with his long arms and strong fingers with his dreamy eyes and his unique mind. Not knowing the story will be told another way again and keep changing as he changed as well.
The girl was a very envious little soul and was very keen on keeping the story as is, not changing any of the words or grammar to let the tale keep repeating itself in a very ending loop of the same humanity with greed and violence and so few love.
She had to stop him from creating something different, something unexpected. She thought to predict the future is to control it. She thought it could be worse never better.
Everyone knows a heart is a spade in reverse.
This reality was hers, written a long time ago or maybe just few second ago, and she sworn not to leave the control to anyone else. It was hers. She had already forgot about the boy and his hand writing. The scroll was getting longer it seemed and an atrocious sense of deep panic was chocking her.
His arms were around her body like a snake, squeezing the fight out of her. She grabbed the pen from the boys’ fingers and plunged it in his core repeatedly. No sounds were coming from this awkward battle, no blood or tears, just ink. The deepest blue ink spread at their feet making on its polished surface an echo of their entangled bodies beyond a magical gateway.
On the other side the two faces were part of a unique being, Symbiosis. The gestures morphed into tender spells and caresses. The ink ran into imaginary gutters in the fibers of the scroll. They draw the curves and the angles of a myth. The blue became darker, deeper.
They had reach the ultimate power, the faceless power of shaping a story, with pre written parts in unusual contexts, old questions with new answers, an ancient theme with a original twists. Worn out shoes stepping on unmarked territories.
Together on the other side of the ink they were creating the most brilliant and riveting tale.
Because everyone knows a spade is a heart in reverse.