Email this sample to a friend

The Stones of Talarana

The Door of Ivory

A.H. Den
A Short Story



SMASHWORDS EDITION


PUBLISHED BY:

Alessandro H. Den on Smashwords



The Stones of Talarana

Copyright © 2013 by Matteo Berilli



I dream that exists

Since it exists, what I dream.


The dreamer was no longer the same: his time had dazed, his surroundings misled, the gray cement cities oppressed. His dreams, influenced by that gray had become emaciated and inconsistent: for years he was not dreaming more the blue waters of Selthon, the soaring spiers of Naren and the adamantine splendor of the great capital of the Land of Dreams, Oonanai Talarana. He himself, in his melancholy, he had almost lost the memory of the vast halls of the crystalline Dastama and joyful banquet in which it participated, sitting at the right hand of the Emperor. That was his world as a child, that was the fact that he felt he belonged. Growing his fairy world was gradually faded: the banquets which were witnessed and horseback riding in the wide meadows of Esperia became increasingly rare and soon forgot how to get there. So he was forced to conform to the masses, to become one among many, stranger among strangers in a desperate world. Then, one morning, the brightening dawn the thing happened: his sleep, without dreams for years, underwent a change. He found himself in a courtyard arcades, adorned with numerous fountains from which sprang fountains of perfumed water. Covering it the way he discovered that it opened into a large hall, the edge of which were placed two doors: one ivory and bone. On that vision, finally remembering his past, he walked with a firm step towards the ivory door, seemingly carved from a single gigantic block. Approached her, throbbing with emotion: the half-open portal seemed to invite him to enter. The dreamer felt distinctly a beautiful symphony that filled his soul, like the one listening to the party in the halls of Oonanai Talarana, accompanied by flutes and lutes. Entranced by the bright vision he grabbed the oversized handle chryselephantine, pulling himself. A blinding light enveloped him and for a fleeting moment the dreamer had thought again to fly back over the Crimson Desert or sail to the heavenly Mideroa, but to his great regret, he found himself lying on his bed, dazzled by the rays of a warm sun, guilty of his untimely awakening.

Previous Page Next Page Page 1 of 3