He first heard it while the sun was fading under a cloud…The voice started to whisper.  Such a wonderful murmur so soft and pure almost a song.  He couldn’t avoid it. It was the night calling him hidden in the halo of the moon.

He was hungry.  A young soul in a mature body craving for new tales and stories powerful enough to take him away from misery and doubts. He had the eyes to see more, further than most and deeper than all because he went where the darkness only dissipate to make room for cruelty. He went there, but more importantly he also came back many times but one.

The man knew the naked light didn’t bring only joy but would further hurt sensitive souls and tender hearts so he only used to move by night. Shadows in rocks and trees were is brothers and sisters. They hid between waves in the storm and below moss in the rain.

Now he had nowhere to hide or run from the harsh light. He was a prisoner. The doubts were drilling holes in his determination, weakening the same ground upon where his strength was built.

Times of sorrow were upon him and only the soft distant voice had enough rhythm to rock him to sleep.

How did he ended up between these 4 walls with no roof?

He had been tricked by Monarch. So much glory couldn’t be questioned when all were bowing down. He reckon he had to follow. So much allure, two prismatic wings, colors only a god would show without fear, glowing flesh and dazzling eyes, staring, digging fetching all: What he had treasured and kept carefully. Fully exposed he had no more armor.

Why would she jail him? He was obscure and dark, when she only relish the sun and light. Was it because he was too different and obscure to be understood, or so he thought. She said she loved him that she only wanted to keep him safe but it wasn’t love it was ownership tyranny and maybe something grimmer: fear.

The days passed and the walls never lay and shade. His skin burned, his eyes became dull and tired seeing only the obvious and ignoring what made him happy before, all these subtleties hidden in the minuscule details of life itself… But the voice was still there and he clenched onto its silky ribbon of hope and wisper, floating around him while the sun consummated him.

The Monarch came to see him one rainy day as the drops covered the sound he learn to adore, the tender breath of the night to come. This time she asked for his hands. She had developed a liking of human hands especially the infinite hidden power they possessed.

He never thought of his hand as magic or even powerful but then it made sense. What could he do without them? He looked back into all these years while he took for granted the infinite gift his hands were. It seems he finally saw them for the first time in all their glory, their capacities, skills even the talent trapped at the tip of each finger. He observed how strong and regular they were. They held all his past and the keys to his future as for the present he forgot it for the time he was in jail as he dismissed his self-values. They were the makers of these tales he was craving for.

This time when the night came with all its caravan of mist and dark spells, the heavy curtain of his self-doubts slowly started to lift. The ribbon-voice wrapped itself around his wrists covering his hands with the silk he could only hear but not touch before. His determination rose as his entire body was lifted up away from the jail.

He found himself free and safe, far into the forest of his past, present and future. He untangled the voice of the night from his wrists and the ribbon fell to the ground as tiny droplets of pure dew that the earth swallowed.

This night the Monarch disappeared and between the 4 walls without a roof, a Silk cocoon started to grow.