Sunday, February 6, 2011

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Story Story No.2

The Prophet of Fire
Saliva had a single mixture with sand.
The hours of the journey filled with dust and pain.
have to walk for so long a time would have seemed crazy. Now, however, could not help it.
There were those who called him a slave, who had tried to sell it as such. He had managed to survive despite everything, despite having a reduced knee pain since he was attacked by an angry mob. The
physical pain, however, remained the last of his worries, he knew that the most that could happen was dying, death and he had already proved.
When a man loses his family, his work, his place in the community that is perhaps the worst death that may exist.
When you're thrown into a corner and ask for a rag, knowing that some time before your skin was greased with perfumed oil and just, you know to be dead.
He always knew how fragile his life was, taught him that his mother's death, that just slipped in front home and beat his head was not raised further.
But then he was a child, the weakness was a thing of the nature of the infant.
Growing your confidence increases, in proportion to your physical assets. Do you feel strong, confident in the future, see your children walking in the footsteps that you first have trod.
Now I do not even remember how many days you walk. When did you last spoke with someone. See only a foot in front of the other.
From a distance he saw the walls of a village, fell to his knees, looked up and thanked the sky. It was an action that was now more often.
The distance was now plentiful, but the walls seemed to move away rather than closer.
knew it was a risk going somewhere new, as the prophet had received the most varied reception. He was loved and hated by many people.
Before entering he asked, as he always did, what he would say, what phrase was better to arrive. He had done it a million times, but was always afraid that someone would react badly, to kill him.
From a sentinel had seen, who was shouted down to let the prophet.
His feet barely touched the edge of the village who had heard screams of women and men who came.
closed his eyes for a moment, stroked a bit 'long gray beard, and heard something that only he could hear.
When I opened my eyes a crowd around him. This village had probably been attacked recently. There were few men in the forces and many women, some pregnant.
There were many children, however, a tear the eye went down, it was better not to ask what had made those children who seemed to fail to respond.
began making the gesture of blessing that everyone knew, he uttered a few words, under the watchful eyes of people who did not seem to trust him.
Someone pushed and fell to the ground. Always did, when he came limping off the knee many wanted to know if he was faking.
He got up without feeling that he had assaulted, but instead smiled and asked if he could sit down somewhere.
A woman had brought a small jug with water, he drank up, after many days of drought was difficult for him swallow.
When someone asked him the name, said he had always done since he was called to this journey that the name is not important, but what matters is the message.
This answer was unpleasant to some, others thought the offense, believed that he wanted to make fun of them, who do not deserve to know his name.
From a distance someone yelled that it was just another swindler, who wanted a free meal for two things to say far-fetched.
to this kind of provocation, he never answered, just closed his eyes as he was thinking, as if looking into it.
Another woman took him gently by the arm and told him he could sleep at his home. He was tired and exhausted, he would speak more calmly in the evening.
A group of people broke away and returned to his chores, while others followed him, those who humbly with a smile of derision.
In the house of the woman was a strong man, broad-shouldered, his beard long and flowing like a flock of black crows.
When he entered did not utter a word, but followed him with his eyes. Study it seemed like a beast does with its prey. The prophet went to lie down on a bed of twigs, shortly after the sleep had kidnapped.
When he woke up next to him there was a fire that heated the house. This was one place where the tools lying around, I realized that was used for everything from wired to sleep.
soon opened his eyes met those of the man who had seen it before, it seemed that he had not moved even a moment. Read the prophet in that look, life, fire, suffering, and have witnessed many times death.
In his heart he thought that perhaps he had much more to teach him, that his words were most certainly heard, such was the authority issued to him.
With a little 'hard work sat. The knee ached terribly, the first drop was a blow.
'now' he thought, 'Now is the time when I begin to ask of their destiny, because of their suffering'.
The woman who had came together at that moment, smiled when she saw him awake. She asked him if he wanted to eat something.
's relentless hunger was biting her stomach, maybe not eat for weeks. He brought with him a piece of bread for the trip, ate slowly and receiving to make it last.
raised his face and looked at the woman in the eye and told him that she had something important to ask. He ate only after you have answered your question.
She sat in front of the man, he could be her husband but nothing suggested.
'When will return to talk about? ' he asked, pointing to the man, 'When will it end its silence?'. The last word, you were the wind seemed to break. After asking what began to look at the ground as kidnapped by a thousand thoughts.
What is the purpose of the prophet? Which voice will listen? Why take the responsibility to respond to questions that seem to man banned?
He was asked this question many times, he often looked for a rational response. But he knew that the real answer was unpronounceable.
The prophet took the woman a flap of his tunic and said, 'Let him die, has finished his journey on earth'.
The woman began to cry. The sadness seemed to fill the house now.
After crying, she stood up and forcefully put her arms around the man to embrace. The squeezed and said the words whispered in the ear. Then she kissed him with passion and love.
The man smiled, maybe not smiled like this since he was little.
He turned to the prophet for a moment looking into his eyes, after you slumped as if asleep. The spirit flew away from his nostrils, and his flesh was left alone that she was still holding him close.
The Prophet stayed for hours with his eyes closed, tears almost prevented him from opening the lids. It was not simply that he felt pain and sadness, however.
was that feeling he had when he was kidnapped in the corners of what had been his village, after it was destroyed by the latest conflict. Even then he stood up, powerless and remained with his eyes closed until the moon appeared in the sky. She listened intently to the voice inaudible ears that was clear, however, as no one had ever talked before.
It seemed natural to leave the few items that still belonged to him and begin to walk, charmed by an inner music.
The woman had fallen asleep next to her husband's body, the Prophet got up and left.
Outside there was someone waiting for him.

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