I don’t know much time had passed since I found myself in this room. The only thing I am sure about is that I’d changed. No more did the whispers scare me, I’d grown to love them. So much time I spent just waiting for another one of their stories that I’d completely lost track. There was no need to be nervous here, or anxious. No need to be anything but yourself.
So here I was, waiting for another one of ‘my’ whispers to grace me with their presence. To share with me their story. And sure enough my wish was granted.
In an unusual way, that is true, but then again, weren’t they all ‘unusual’?
Even though this whisper had no voice to speak with, his story could still be told. This is what he told me.
He weighed the pebbles in his hand. They lay there in his palm before he cast them away. One… two….three times they’d bounce off of the surface of the water,causing ripples wherever they touched, before disappearing into the depths.
It was something he loved to do, to just stand there casting the little stones. How many of them he’d thrown over the years, he did not know.
One morning he set out to the shore once more. The lake was calm, a perfect mirror, as it had been all of the other beautiful mornings. It reflected the sunlights, sparkling as the brightest gem. Yet, it seemed to be even calmer than usual, different in a way. He couldn’t really tell what it was though, yet.
He started to search the shore for pebbles he could use. Flat, round stones that’d bounce a few times before being swallowed by the water. Yet he found none.
There wasn’t a single stone that fit his purpose. So he sat down on one of the big rocks on the shore, content with just watching the water,for now.
But as he sat there something magical happened. The water in front of his feet stirred, seemingly boiling in only one small spot. Slowly it changed into a recognizable shape, taking the form of a hand reaching out to him. It glistened in the morning sun, a rainbow of colors reflecting off of it. Yet still it looked real, if it weren’t for the strange color of the “skin”. He didn’t seem to notice that it wasn’t real though, for the only thing he saw was the stone that lay in the palm of the strange hand.
The stone was perfectly shaped, it was everything he looked for when searching for pebbles. And it shone, it shone in the light of the sun. Seemingly made of gold it shimmered, catching the sunlight and making it even brighter. And all he knew was that he needed to have that stone. That is belonged to him.
So he got up and reached for the stone, but found himself grasping thin air, empty space. There was no hand there anymore, but it had moved a few steps away. Moved without him even noticing. It was still holding the pebble, teasing him with it,almost.
Did he realise what was happening? I don’t think he did, because he stepped forward without hesitation. He moved forward without fear.
Further and further he was lured into the water. His clothes clung to his body, making him heavier and heavier, yet still he walked towards the hand. Finally he managed to reach the hand, to get close enough to be able to take the pebble from its palm. He was already up to his shoulders in the icey cold water, but he did not care. He had gotten what he wanted. the pebble was his.
Then it happened.
He felt his feet getting heavier, sinking into the bottom of the lake, covered in pebbles that lay there, waiting for him. They shaped themselves up and around his body, working their way up from his feet. He was boxed in from all sides, by pebbles. There was no one there to hear his screams as he slowly disappeared under all of the stones. They melted together, no longer separate little stones, but a stone cast around the poor mans body. The very pebbles he himself had cast into the lake. The same pebbles that had so many times broken the mirrorlike surface of the lake. That had destroyed the magic of its reflection time and again.
The water, the lake and the mysterious creature that controlled them had cherished each of those pebbles, plotting its revenge against the human that broke its serenity.
No more would the stones break the perfectly calm surface. It would from now on be calm again. Only the little island in its center, shaped strangely like a human with one arm stretched out up high, reminded of what had taken place. And it its hand, in the statues stretched out hand, lay one golden pebble. Held up high above the waters surface.
I was sure that the man in the story was the same as my whisper. I knew that this was how he had found his ending. And I wept for him, because no one else had, while I waited for another story.
.