ghost

I find myself in one vast chamber shabbily furnished with a few rows of chairs. From the vaulted ceiling, the white lime appears broken in many long bands, like sick gums within one mouth of darkness. The chamber is without any window and the light is missing. However, I can see rather clear the silhouettes a few people who are buzzing in low tones, shadows talking using many courteous words, and for my hearing those courtly words are endless, disgusting, they are too long. My lungs inhale a moldy perfume which is dissipated in air by the wall’s humidity and I don’t understand from where that milky light flooding all space of the hall is coming. The expectancy floating in air is only interrupted by the floors’ creaks made by the steps of many persons clumping while entering in this immense room, using the single door which is now wide open; I see somewhere, at the bottom of the chamber, one white chair. I sit down just after a long effort of will to breaking the scabrous cobweb covering that old-fashioned chair.
Being so busy with these unusual activities, I have missed to notice the moment when this strange chamber became brimful. The people who seem like shadows, are standing now on their chairs and the noises have died out in total silence. In this grave quiet, by the first row of chairs, one knight dressed up in black togs and standing up, does a short reverence. After that, unpacking one long papyrus, he begins to read aloud, pronouncing syllabically the words, with many pauses. In this time, the milky light is vanishing in dark tones and the face of that knight is muffled his voice is arriving with difficulty in my ear. I ask myself how the knight is capable to read in such diffuse light and I don’t understand why all people are mute so suddenly. I understand only one word of his speech and, like a waterfall, many other words remain for me so foreign and unfamiliar, unreal like a talk of one unknown language. All people are listening to that abnormal speech, none is saying anything, just that black knight is reading without rest, touching in this time the floor’s wood with his parchment. Later, when I looking around me, in the left side of mine, I can observe the vaporous silhouette of one lady. I am amazed because I was unable to feel her presence having been so close to me.
Meanwhile, having finished his speech, the knight has returned in the first row, where is his place and now sits down. This time, he makes a lot of bows with discreet compliances of head when many humans near him are very grateful for his plentiful story. Another man is now in front of us, and after one hilarious moment of hesitation when he tries to pull out one paper deeply hidden in his pocket, finally, he is ready to start reading what he wrote there. From the first moment, he is coughing strongly to cover the rustled noise, using his knee to straighten the paper but that act is impossible to be perfectly redressed. Again that strange and unknown language is in my ear with all ineffable nuances of hers. The hall and the audience are charmed in one magic listening which remain intangible for my mind. Everything is like a serious game and I am absent.
That lady is coming near me and she tell me with discreet tonality in ear: „Does it not strike you that in the house’s guests... are ghosts? Don’t you think? I’m feeling, I’m listening to their spectral clatter and flimsy songs over us...”. She is looking with worried eyes above us, and their turbid pupils are so dilated. She is scared, I think. I cast a glance in that place where she’s looking, above to that white ceiling of room, and after a few seconds, I exclaim: „Ghosts? Don’t be ridiculous, my dear lady... here is not presence any ghost!”. She does not insist and now has returned to her silence, but that worried thought of her mind is alive because she insists to look in the imaginary point of the room’s ceiling. She seem for me like one of those dummies of wax who are dressed like brides, dummies looking without any countenance by the filthy shop windows. The lady is too rigid, her white dress with the intricately detailed lace transforms her portrait to one earthen face. At this time, the words spoken by that knight are flying in the chamber abyss, are running like many swords are intersecting and being broken in vague echoes,constantly. While I am studying these details, a few people are rushing into the room, and, immediate after that, they lock the door, shooting the bolt. For this, two stout strangers are uniting theirs forces and forcing the rusty bolt to be tight. The door is locked and the metallic echo is spread in the atmosphere with shrills and lamentable tones.
One of those people is standing with his shoulders against door and is trembling; he is so nervous! His clothes are shabby and his voice is high-pitched. This time he is doing many gestures with his long cadaverous and tumultuous fingers. Listening to his words, the mass becomes agitated; many arms and hands are throbbing like one gigantic millipede in this cold and dense air. That strange lady sitting left of me is praying, her hands are united and I hear her whisper. Her big and delirious eyes have retired deep into sockets, her osseous head seems like one noddle of the horse. Exactly in this moment, many hard knocks at the door are heard. A few knights are immediatly there, adhering their bodies to the door while the people are howling and now the general frenzy has reached its peak.
The pale woman has caught my hands ans she squeezes them hard, to the point of pain. Her voice full of fright, she tells me how those ghosts e living in the loft of the house will be very soon here because they have felt our presence. When she hears again new knocks at the door, her fear grows, touching the limits of the madness. I don’t feel my palms, are being grasped worse and worse like in one strong tongs by hers hands and one thin foam is covering her mouth; her rattling breath is smelling foul. I rise up from the chair and I direct myself straight to the door, groping and touching with my fingers the wet walls, in this time that woman remains alone behind me and she is screaming horribly. Now the darkness is almost perfect and secretive, the milky light has retired from the room. In front of the door, I found people standing there like a nervous brunch of grapes. I try to convince them not to be scared but they answer me in an unknown language. Their woolly words are ugly. That knight who read earlier from that papyrus, keeps in his hand the yellow paper and he is gesticulating now, raising his arm above the head and tells me something without any sense. I do not understand anything of his speech and his harsh words are too hideous. I start to become worried because I am not able to understand any his words. The single creature who was able to understand me was that strange and hysterical woman, who was abandoned by me at the bottom of the chamber.
I make my path to the door, walking in the middle of the mass and now I can hear clearly their unspeakble words. Reaching in front of the door, I try to open the rustly bolt and few aggressive knights are jostling me with brutality. I told them I want to get out but they lost the patience. I look around me, captive in the middle of one stranger and scared mass. The knight who keep the old papyrus in hand is their leader because he make a short gesture to the mass with his forefinger to let me free and all peoples make one step back. After that, two individuals are trying to unlock the massive bolt and they succeed finally to open the door. The noise made by the opening of the door is rotten and prolonged. In that moment, many arms and hands are pushing me out, and I feel again that one hard pressure on my shoulder. It is that anxious lady, who shouts at me: „Don’t leave us ! Are you crazy? All the people who leave this room, have never returned here!...”.
Like a sinister laughter, the door is closed behind me and I listen how they have locked again the bolt. Across the distant door, the uproar of people is reaching me, vaguely, with the colorless nuance of noise. I remain alone in the dark. I make a few steps, touching the wall with my hands. I tread slowly and carefully because I am like one helpless blind; the darkness makes me see only diffused lights and pale shadows. Now the silence is perfect, the dark is like a pitch and I do not hear anything, just my intermittent breathing. I am swimming in one liquid and black labyrinth and my lungs are inhaling one venomous air; I have lost memory of time.
Sometime later, I stop in front of a flight of stairs. I am climbing, being as through as I can, I am touching with my feet every step of the stairs. As I am mounting these stairs, the milky light is returning, little by little. I find myself in the garret of the house. Around me, here and there are just many mounds of dust and… no ghost. However, one can never tell... The pale light is illuminating downwards by the garret-window; the first and the last window seen here, in this immense building. Underneath that skylight are a few piles of old books with fine leather bindings After having climbed up, I stand in perfect equilibrium on the pile of the books and open the windows. I can finally look outside.
Big and yellow, like one pumpkin almost ripe, the moon is shining and sending me many frozen moonbeams. Below my eyes, one burg in ruins is sleeping in the night, with many little hunchback houses and few streets paved with fragmented cobblestones. Many from these poor buildings snap unequally the surface of the streets and, finally, a few from them are immersed below in the sewage’s mud. The topmost building from the burg is one smoky tower built with burned bricks.

He seems traped in infinity. So sad.

Again, I just love your creativity...i am blown away each and every time!

Emana o singuratate totala...disperarea autentica este intr-o singuratate

completa , spunea Parintele Nicolae

Feels like abyss and it has a spiritual touch to it.

...in every person exists on ghost...when he is discovered, the

phantom can be frightened...

wonderful work, congratulations

I am elated to have read you and seen the visions of your mind, and although I feel that I have not properly honored your words I am glad I have had the chance to facilitate a few of them. An invisible purity, courage and enlightment consisting of all the facets of prehistoric, historic and post historic energy are always incarnated within your lines, the ones built of characters or of the capture of eyes. Meaning formed of feeling and immense creativity awaiting nothing but encapsullating and permeating the every tone of heaven and earth. Not one shallow space among your ideas, an intoxication of spirit and heart and the dimensions that you forge between and beyond them. I could not dwell in the details, for all encompassing substance emerges every single time. My presence dwarfed by the ones you have conjured. The experience of true art.

I just love the image ... sorry that I don't feel to read all that you've written!

... love it ! Very interesting and creative.

Long time ...no see....

 

Salutari

....i think everything was already said

Wonderful:-)))