15: memorandum

tältä nanoni näyttää 15 päivän kuluttua alkamisesta:::D kuva suurenee siis klikaamalla ja se on tehty wordlen avulla. täytyy testata tuota vielä marraskuun loputtua ja nähdä sitten mitä tulee::)
sanoja on tänään tullut pyöreät 0 kpl, mutta eilisen 3000 sanan jälkeen ei kyllä tee tiukkaakaan. yritän kuitenkin päästä ainakin tuhanteen. tänään postaan myös ensimmäisen osan (wind) viimeisen osan. toivottavasti olette tykänneet tähän asti!




here's how my nano looks after 15 days since the beginning. the pic enlargens with a click and it's made by using worlde. i gotta test that also in the end of november and see how it turns out:::) today i've written a solid 0 words, but the 3000 words of yesterday i'm not in a hurry either, although i'll try to reach at least 1000 today. i'll also be posting the end of part one (wind) today. i hope you've liked it so far!

Chapter Fifteen

For a mere second reality split, fell apart like glass. The shards of the Hotel Aqua pool fell around me like the pieces of a mirror and I gasped for breath, like trying to get hold of some invisible rope to prevent me falling into the chasm between the realms. Circus spoke, her voice reminding me of a droplet falling from the sky, slowly strengthening. “It’s a bad omen,” she said. “It’s Sunday.”
As I took a deep breath my throat rattled. It was all inside my mind. Suddenly the mere sight of Fera made me double up in a spasm as the air around him rippled and broke. Imaginary.

“Sunday?” I repeated bemusedly. Circus’ response was dead serious. “The guardians are in council. They cannot pick their earthlings up.”
“Why?”
It was a question which I should have never asked. The look Circus returned me reminded me of her inside the council chamber: she had faced me with a look of almost scientific interest. Her eyes told me more than what Chyse said out loud. “Let’s get a few things straight,” he began, his eyebrows upraised in an amused manner. “Your guardian didn’t tell you when the council summons? And yet she made you a councelor?”
I felt like I was holding the Idiot ball again. Even though I didn’t believe in Fate, I was sure I could read it’s emotions from the swirls in Circus’ cyan eyes. That is very serious, it spoke. With amusement.

“Sunday is the only day of the week which isn’t tied with any element,” She continued. I noticed our group had split into two – I, Chyse and Circus, meanwhile Nolan, Talia and Rilla focused on Fera. It had somehow slipped of my consciousness Talia had been speaking to him all the time. “Tomorrow is Monday, the day of wind. In the past one’s element could be determined merely by their day of arrival. They have become more reckless these days. We have to take him to the council to be recognized.”

The council. The word brought in mind an image of the six thrones of the high council, now each represented with a face. I could see some of them clearly: Aurora, Severina, even Hestia with her short wine-colored hair, who I had only caught the sight of. Three of the seats were occupied by Ariel, Cheres and Tristen, their faces changing, constantly morphing. In my mind’s eye, Tristen looked like Severina – an older, male version of her, only with golden hair instead of white. His eyes were black hollows without a soul in them, and even facing him in my mind’s eye terrified me. The air around me started to freeze, cold sweat gathered on my temples.

From the corner of my eye I saw Circus frown. She knows, a thought occurred me. Somehow she knows.

“The high council summons only Sundays,” Rilla chimed in the angle of my mind. “And the next council summoning is in a week. We can’t take him there.”
“What about a healer?” Nolan suggested, his palms glowing, as if they were radiating heat. “Someone from the Earth City, perhaps?”

“None cures amnesia,” Talia responded. “I was taken to few. They’re no good unless you’re fatally wounded.”

“Then someone who is familiar with memory,” Nolan continued. “The City of Fire, or even Light.”

If you leave that door, he will find you before you can pronounce his name.

“You can decide.”
Slowly the interaction between Fera and the outer world was starting to become an conversation instead Talia’s monologue, but the things Fera said were pretty much only

trollish idioms such as “ugh” and “oomph.” He seemed to ponder the option – light or fire. I knew I could run any moment. I wouldn’t have to come with them. It was only up to seconds I made the decision.

There was no grasp I had of the moment. The fear which had taken over me was more ancient than man, a natural instinct which made my adrenaline pour and blood run free. I felt like the world was expecting for it, only taking deep breaths until the moment I said the words.

“I’m not here for this,” was all I could say.

I wasn’t sure if I spoke the words to myself or out loud. I just know the scenery around me started to stir – not as it had fallen down when I faced Fera’s eyes, but blur, like oil paint mixed with water. An image formed beneath my eyelids. For a mere second I was nothing but myself instead of the person Kaiya had made me.

I imagined the place as it had been the last time I had seen it. The yard was a garden of ashes around a house of stone built on the brink of a hill. Down below the city opened like a golden abyss in the morning sun. Two tall juniper trees guarded the yard resembling a gate. I could feel their needles scratching my skin, thorns sticking in my palms, grazing my pale skin.

The scenery around me flushed as if I had washed it away. What once was the pool of Hotel Aqua was replaced by a place which gave me cold shivers. The trees stood tall, splitting the sun into thin rays that burned white spots into my skin. I was alone. I hadn’t to turn around to know how far the neighboring house was. Sometimes I thought mamma had chosen that house only to be as far from people as she could. She was, anyway, a poet. But her poems never spoke of place: only of love, blood, life and death.

“Mamma?” I whispered, as if expecting her to listen. I knew instantly what was different: there was no wind – it was too silent. The noise of the city drowned while the hills climbed higher away, leaving only the hum of the setting sun and the rush of blood through my ears. She’s not here, I spoke to myself. Leave! Leave now!

But I had always been too curious for a human being. The fear of my old home was something I was too used to. It had been present for so long it was a part of me.

The front door was left unlocked. A surreal feeling flushed through me. The only thing which parted me from my own realm seemed to be a thin veil which gave everything a new meaning and a name. I almost thought I could see the veil around me, like a translucent layer of varnish on furniture or a shell of glass. You’re not home, my conscience warned. It’s not meant to be-

The dragging noise the heavy doors made as opened subdued my thinking. Dust whirled all around me in spots of light which shone through tiny holes in the windows. The surface of several windows had cracked, and the edges of the circle corridors were covered with colorful shards like pieces of stained glass. I clutched my fists on my chest, imagining mamma’s scarf warming and keeping me safe. “Joy?”

A sudden sound like breaking glass made me jump and corner against the front door. Through my watered eyes I could see the doors to our balcony broken like someone had pushed a fist through. The glass had fallen inward. Someone was in.

“For God’s sake,” I exhaled, my heart thumping like a witch drum. I hadn’t sworn in English for ages. “My God, help me,” I whispered through my breaths, standing frozen at my tracks. My breath was close to hyperventilating and my head felt very light, making the room pulse around me. You’re in your own home, I lied to myself, almost like it would help. Someone’s broken in. Someone’s broken into your own home.

The light danced in mockery through the grimacing glass, blood sang in my head. A sudden feel of obsessive protection seized me, a feeling which burned the fear away like flames. “There is nothing here of my past life,” I breathed. Yet I felt it was somehow wrong, almost like digging into the deepest secrets buried inside my mind.

There was a noise like ruffled paper from my left – maybe the kitchen? Which awoke my instincts like an eagle’s hunting for its prey. “Who’s there?” I called, a tremble in my voice, approaching the left wing of my childhood home. Outside the walls were of gray stone, almost black, the roof stretched over like a medieval castles, but inside they were shimmery tones like gold and ruby, now faded with dust. I had almost forgotten how my old room looked like. I had heard my mamma had transformed it into another office after I had left, a storage for her innumerous pieces of work: books of poetry, Germanic mythology and fairy tales, everything she loved. What if they were still there?

All had turned dead silent and a flush between regret and relief flushed through me. My mind was a mush of uncertainty. What had I been thinking when I thought of coming there? The thought had occurred to me almost unconsciously amidst my emotions. This world has made you feel, a voice spoke inside my mind. Feel the things you lacked on Earth, instead of thinking. And in the silence of my childhood home which was both a part of my past and my future I finally understood what had caused it all. It was a thought I should have given up but what was impossible shrug away. Love, I thought, flashes running past my eyes: the haze of Kaiya, the Elementals, my city on Earth just like it was but still so different. Somehow, it’s all about love.

Then there was another crash, but this time it was different – a low, thumping sound like someone had dropped a book. It was the sound of * NANO something thumping against wood. Only few of the rooms in my home had a wooden floor – including the bedrooms.

“Get away from my stuff,” I hissed beneath my teeth, still very unclear of what was I doing or why, how my behavior had turned into something so unlike me… as I found the doors which had lead me into mamma’s bedroom a shudder crept through me. I had almost forgotten it didn’t have doors – my mamma had covered the doorway with a thick curtain she pulled aside mornings to let the sun shine in through the corridor. At first I thought the room was empty, but in two blinks of the eye they were clearly there like illuminated with a flashlight.

The skeleton of mamma’s bed stood right where I remembered. There were no curtains or blankets, carpets nor tablecloths. There was an old light on mamma’s table I had never seen – there was no cord, like it worked on batteries. It had gone out. I took a shaky step towards the bed with heavy feet, something which reminded me of the Archives. The whole place had been purified or protected. But why?

Right between me and the bed there was a dustless spot. I only noticed it because the light – the bed’s silvery edge reflected the sun like some ancient mirror. I waved my hand in the air, the dust disappearing with the light. Even thought I couldn’t see it, I knew it was there – a clean trail of footsteps.

Somewhere a light glinted, like the flash of an igniting lantern far away. I remembered there being a large mirror in the corridor over the fireplace. Without further thinking I rushed towards the one single room it could have been reflected of – my own room.

My first thought was a soundless refusal. I knew it was my room: the layout of it was the same – the same view of the empty sky as the hillside dropped. But nothing else was familiar. My table and bookcase had been replaced by an empty, dusty corner. An iron instrument like some sort of wretched chandelier hung from the roof, creaking infernally. There was no bed. Instead of this a pile of iron bars had been assembled against the window. Four symmetrical marks like dents on the floor formed the shape of a quadrangle. Something had been hidden under all those things, something which sparkled like moonlight. I pulled a deep, relieved breath of recognition as I dug under the mountain of iron and wood, revealing a tiny cabinet of walls painted with a reflective silver. It was an open cabinet I had never stored anything in for the single reason the door had been locked. It had always stood in the corner of my room, its feet digging into the wood like they had grown together. I had never bothered to ask if there was anything inside or where the key was. Don’t look in, I warned myself. But I did.

The dust on the covers had been wiped off – even in the dim light of the darkening day I could spot the fingerprints on it. To me the book looked like a journal – it wasn’t very thick or fancy. The initials E.M where engraved on the black leather covers. In fact, it resembled an account book.

This was my mamma’s, I thought. But what could the E stand for? Maybe it was for someone in the family, her grandma’s, maybe. If I could remember correctly she was called Eve – Eve Messing?

On the left corner of the very first page there was a date – the 11^th of November and a time of day: 12:00, no mention of AM or PM. Just a few rows below someone had scribbled notes. e. + l. = w.? Or possibly d.? But it wasn’t mamma’s handwriting. The letters were thin and microscopic, so small I found myself squinting my eyes so close to the pages they almost touched the tip of my nose-

“Looking for something?”

I whirled around yelping weakly in a way I could imagine Ashley Cera doing. E.M’s journal fell into my knees and my hands by my sides. A look of utter disbelief spread on my face. I stuttered his name in letters instead of a word; tiny, fragile things.

“Fera?” I repeated, incredulously, my throat as dry as if I had swallowed a bag of sand. My head had started to shake – whirl from side to side like a mindless propeller. What could I say in such an unlikely situation? Uhm, I just met you, and by all means, you’re an amnesiac who doesn’t know more of himself than his name, and even more, is certainly not capable of warping. But there he was shoulder to shoulder with me, standing in the doorway his dark hair tumbling down to his shoulders like a fallen angel’s.

“You’re not human,” I stuttered, slowly backing away from him, until my back met the wall and I sank down to the pile of iron scraps. Fera’s silver eyes I had once thought of being very beautiful shone now like deadly razors. It would be a pleasure for them to watch me bleed…

“You’re… you’re a…”
My hands wandered helplessly around me, trying to find a weapon, a piece of iron to grab onto, but all I could catch of was an arm-length grid which reminded me of the wall of a crib. My voice was but a wheeze. “What are you?”
The razors in his eyes seemed to spin like a circular saw’s – lethal flashes burned within. “What do you mean?” he breathed, and all blacked out.

Consciousness was like water, wavering and constantly morphing. The edges of my vision had gone black, almost if I was stretching out into a dark well and studying how the reflections of light formed pictures on the water.
The room, like my field of vision, was full of light. The curtains were ethereal and transparent, fluttering in a dreamlike breeze. A young girl had bended over an instrument which reminded me of a grand piano. Fingers moved gracefully on the keys, knitting patterns of sound into the quiet air.
"You play wonderfully," someone spoke.
A figure entered the room through an open glass door, something which was almost crystal. The song ended abruptly, leaving the last note hanging dead in the air. The girl over the piano raised a gaze. Her eyes were a shocking sky blue.
"You," she began, some sort of quick, unrestrained shock or surprise passing over her face. "You shouldn't be here."
The figure in the doorway didn't waver, though her last words had been but a hiss. "But I am," he said: his tone was young, his height of a little boy's. "Does it surprise you?"
The girl over the piano turned around. The fabric of her silvery dress wrinkled around her clutched fists. "I asked you a question," she repeated stubbornly. "Why are you here?"
"I know now," the boy answered him, a dangerous glow in his eyes. "It's you," he said. "Isn't it?"
The girl's face flushed red - not of embarrassment - of a mix of uncontrollable anger and fear. She stood up, cornering against the piano, her fingers brushing idly the highest keys. "I’m what?”
A smile spread on his face. The golden waves of his hair whipped in a sudden breeze. “Who would know that better than you?”

The girl screamed as light gathered in his eyes and the windows exploded inward. Fountains of glass rained down the skylight, down her, sharp shards like blades cutting her skin…

And then there was a pull in my stomach: a strange tug like someone had attached a hook in my spine and was pulling me back, away from the rain of crystal.  I flew backwards and the scenery around me rippled, folded over like paper. I felt a sharp pain in my head as a blinding light shone into my eyes. I tried to cover them, but couldn’t move my arms. I had no physical form – there was nothing I could do but see.

The light was a flickering candle on a desk. In its dimming brown glow I could see the letters scrawled on the paper with black ink. Zu lieben heiβt zu leben…

”Und zu leben müssen wir liebe.”

There was something familiar in his voice; the regularity of his tone; the calmness, the control. “To love is to live and to live we must love.”

The pages of the notebook ruffled, flying past so fast I spotted no more than the poem’s names. I translated them as soon as I saw them. Cage. To entwine. Roots. Life. And finally, Treuherzigkeit – Innocence.

“Liebe ist wie ein Vogel,” he recited, no trace of accent in his voice. “All the poems are of love.”

A quiet breeze came through the open window, and the next page of the notebook flew open.

Ich träume von der Erde, dass meine Leben mit den Wurzeln verwickeln.

Behind his back I couldn’t see his expression, his face, but as he read the words his shoulders tensed. I rather felt, than saw his eyes alight, and as the man stood up and opened the double doors of the room, everything around him was crystal clear and magnetic, electric.

He stood on a balcony above a garden which opened a terrific view to the city. Down the rolling hills, in the shadow of the trees two figures stood, played. The pregnant woman was beautiful and tall, pulsing with vitality like light. A little girl already up to her hips ran towards her from beneath the trees. The woman laughed, lifting her up and swirling her around, her long, dark hair flowing down her back like a cape. I saw her smile and tilt her expression, as the man with golden locks approached him slowly, glowing like an angel.

“Put the girl down,” he commanded sternly, and she obeyed. The little girl ran back into the woods, something familiar in her: in the way her nose carved, cheeks blushed and eyes glittered like black stars…

The wind grew strong as the familiar woman with dark hair approached the man; so strong it drowned their voices, subsiding the no! she uttered after a short talk. “She has nothing to do with this!”

The little girl had hidden behind a tall oak tree, something I had seen somewhere before… and as the woman fell down on his knees in the grass, I saw the man and girl disappear in a single golden flash.

Flash after flash, picture after picture the world complicated. In my ears there rang an electric hum so loud it pierced my thinking, and unrecognizable visions mingled into one, it becoming impossible to pick up all the pieces. A great field, shadows passing over as the straws hung back and forth in the ripping wind; a boy of my age bending over a grave behind a great cathedral; a circular chamber with shelves covering each of the walls, filled with books of great elemental power. Energy of purification and protection, two figures together side to side in darkness and in light until they step together inside a column of light, parting them into opposite worlds-

And Fera – the Elemental scales tipping as he lay unconscious in the middle of darkness, only enlightened by a single spotlight radiated from a single spot, a person: myself.

There was no conscious thought, there was only a feeling. A strange form of love I had never truly felt – not lust, nor passion or affection, but an overwhelming will of protection: to live we must love…

I whispered his name like for the very first time, and very slowly, in a gracious gentleness which was nothing like me, bended over him and kissed him.

His eyes flew open and the world flared alight.