Full moon night

[wikk]

Three, four hours? ... God ... it's already noon ... and the day is so still .... so hot ... you hear the sparrows chirping ... the pigeons walking on the roof above your room, cooing ... so beautiful a day ... so beautiful ...



Sixth hour ... have you been sleeping? ... have you dozed for a while? … it's happened there, it's surely happened already! ... You know how it is ... how it's done ... you know how it was done to your Saviour ... Please ... please ... please don't suffer ... please don't suffer! ... you whisper ... Do you remember ... she went ... she was there ... His mother ... before His Cross ... she suffered with Him ... …



Do you want to go there... do you want to see him? … not yet, not now! … In the evening ? ... when the sun has set, no-one would see ... or now, maybe? ... in the hour of greatest heat ... people don't go out then ... it's too hot ... but they will see you ... the guards will see ... they will see you going out through the gate ... as you walk along the rocky road in the dust ... there, where the vultures are circling ... there you are going ... it's very close ... just outside the walls, behind the gate ... but maybe you will go? .. you will say goodbye to your son ... will you see him again?



you get up ... the street is empty, the heat ... oh, you have no strength ... you lean against the wall ... you have no strength ... he used to run around here when he was little ... and from there he came when he visited you ... walking ... down the way from your rich owner's house... so pretty ... smiling at you ... an ordinary boy ... so recently ... and a slender young man, he was so handsome... growing to be a man, your son ... maybe a slave like you, maybe a poor one like you ... but, your son ... was lucky ... he worked, lived with your owner, he could visit you ... he went to the congregation for the prayers ...

he smiled at the girls ... and you wanted for him ... you had already found him a fiancée ... you had arranged with her parents, they had agreed ... he was soon to become her husband ... your owner had already agreed ... you were about to tell him ... the two young people were about to meet ... he knew this girl ... from your community ...



.. mother ... mother ... your son ... won't he come here again? .. won't he come home to you any more! ... Jesus ... Jesus ... You are risen ... You say that we shall all rise ...



Will he come? Will my son come here? …

no he won't come .. he won't resurrect like Him .. .. ..



Will you go there mother?... do you want to see him? .. was he the only one to be executed there today? … Don't you want to see your son, mother?

... no, you won't go ... this heat, in the middle of the day ... the sun is high ... but you're trembling as if from cold, and you come back ... empty street ... in the room again ... you lock the door ... you bolt it with a peg so that no one can come in ...

 

[wikk]

don't you want to be there? don't you want to see? ...

But they went there ... those from your street ... your close neighbours ... those who belong with you to the Nazarene community ... those with whom you go to prayer meetings... ... they were there to see it! ... they already know ... they already know about it - those who saw it .. those who were there ... they saw it! And each one still has an image in their eyes, imprinted in their memories...

and they're whispering to each other ... and they could tell you, but they don't want to ... or maybe they do want to? ... they're only whispering to each other what they saw ... and they will all whisper to your community what has happened... what has happened to one of us ... to this son of one who confesses Him ... they're whispering that he denied Him... but they knew very well who his mother confessed ... and that they are doing this to the son of a woman who follows the Nazarene ...



Mary! … Mary! ... poor mother ... your son, Nadgab .. Adgan .. not given to God ... better for him if you had drowned him like a kitten when he was born...

 

[wikk]

thank you for "likes" and reading my story. It has been placed in the Archive by Madiosi.
The text there is perhaps more organized in the layout of the paragraphs and therefore easier to read.

 

[phlebas]

The bond of a mother and son can be a powerful one. Imagine any mother seeing her dear son taken away to be executed, to be nailed and stripped and lifted to suffer an agonising ordeal naked and in public. Would she want to go to him? Would it be better to stay away? Would he be shamed to know that she was watching, or would he crave her motherly sympathy, even at a distance? A terrible fate, for both of them.

 

[wikk]

I almost have forgotten that long time ago I opened this thread as first of my. I think that is time to reviving it – maybe more for myself, because this thread is quite personal, related to some of my own ideas that are not necessarily interesting to most people...

So why don't I leave these matters for myself alone? Maybe it's feature of human nature that we need to show some things outside. After all, this what is in our head is not enough for us - so we express it in text, graphics... first only for personal use and finally we want to show someone, even if timidly - even when we know that it is not great, but it means something to us...

As small example, I attach here very little, mini story – or rather some kind of thought connected with this picture from our forum which influenced me almost at once when I was looking at it. It excited me because it was fitting as if perfectly into the whole of my fantasies - something as touch of my magic destiny from "another world".
Please don't pay attention to mistakes or imperfections here - I wrote it in my native language for myself and now I've translated it quickly. And this is never ideal ...


Was it only dream?

I was then for sure under twenty – how old I was ?
I don't remember ...
Was that when I was marked? – or was it even earlier ? Maybe before I was born ??
Who knows it?
Who really?! ...

I was travelled then with my Roman owner, together with group of other slaves or workers. During this travel we stop for a moment in a place intended for this purpose, in a camp served by nomads, we take advantage of their hospitality. It was a short break in the journey before we'll move on. With those nomads was my owner in cooperation ... … …

it's late afternoon, we are still waiting and can join the bizarre show that begins, lured by the voices, the laughter, the music of the nomads...

… and there's a girl dancing there, the one in the picture - she's probably owned by these nomads. She is young, very thin, wearing nothing! - has only a veil on her head ... she dances without embarrassment, she is certainly a dancer ...

And yes, I try not to look, .. but I peek and look and look away and look again, I don't want to leave, run away despite my embarrassment ... the music is noisy and she spins fast ... deftly, wonderfully moves , her dance is unearthly for me, I can't take my eyes off her anymore! I hear men talking to each other - they say it's a goat dance, a dance where the bride chooses her fiancé - she chooses a goat of her own, who will serve her and who will be her fiancé, she dances for the goat she chooses ... on which she will ride ... they laugh jokingly, say this is here tradition …

It all happens just like in this picture...but then she notices me and she dance towards me and in front of me... I'm enchanted and and so much embarrassed that I can't even move, I don't know what to do, I just stand there and blush... everyone around laugh much louder and call me that I am chosen by her, that she chooses me … …. it's short moment, it is just a show for the entertainment of the guests we are, nothing more. The girl disappears somewhere quickly … and we must move on soon.

Nothing more – but … she has chosen me - for herself... she has chosen me from this crowd, I am feeling this is something more …
She, so beauty for me, her movements so deft, so fluid... I can’t stop thinking of her!
Of her slim body, of her black curly hair decorated with white flowers and white shells, her dark eyes staring at me, … a white veil on her head, veil covers her hair and her full, carmine lips...

Unknown feeling inside me,
I can’t stop thinking of her …
she have chosen me for her fiancé, for her goat .. I should be happy, but I am afraid … She disappeared so quickly …
…

I dance for you
You I choose,
I, the Bride,
You, my Beloved ……


She marked me, now I know,
for the sacrifice, for scapegoat, for Unholy Golgotha …
She ? or was it even earlier?
Maybe before I was born …
Who knows it?

 

[wikk]

Thank you very much for reading and "liking" my new text.
And especially for the "loves".
It honors me in some special way because I didn't expect it.
Thank you very much again !

 

[wikk]

I would like to share with You graphic which I found long ago, somewhere in Internet. This is not well known, little work (probably some kind of play, meaningless?) of well known artist form my country. I'm not really sure about that, because Internet can surprise us with its uncertainty - let it be my secret.
In any case it is interesting idea in my opinion - for this first day of spring ...

 

[Eulalia]

I would like to share with You graphic which I found long ago, somewhere in Internet. This is not well known, little work (probably some kind of play, meaningless?) of well known artist form my country. I'm not really sure about that, because Internet can surprise us with its uncertainty - let it be my secret.
In any case it is interesting idea in my opinion - for this first day of spring ...

Zdzisław Beksiński? or Łukasz Banach?

 

[Frank Petrexa]

Writing well in a foreign language is very hard for anyone. You've done well enough to get a lot of positive comments (I could not do as well in French, German, or Spanish), and it's certainly more pleasant to read than, say, James Joyce or William Faulkner. The less than proper English in Mark Twain's Huckleberry Finn or Puddin' Head Wilson proved highly popular. Content over from, I'd say.

 

[wikk]

Łukasz Banach was, as far as I know, a friend and student of Zdzisław Beksiński - his only student ...
But the name Banach is associated primarily with the world-famous Polish mathematician Stefan Banach

 

[Frank Petrexa]

Łukasz Banach was, as far as I know, a friend and student of Zdzisław Beksiński - his only student ...
But the name Banach is associated primarily with the world-famous Polish mathematician Stefan Banach

Yes, Banach spaces. They have applications in quantum mechanics.