Mythica

by Owaiz

Far, far, away, beyond detection, there was a village. A remote village where, it was said, one could carry their secrets out in the open. There was no magic there, no voodoo, no gods, but the village moved. People lived peacefully there, fucked and fought, but it didn’t matter. The people weren’t tainted by the right and the wrong, by the wrath of the god or the love of the saints, by governments or so called civility. There was no education, no preaching, and the village didn’t even have a name. No language was spoken, no songs sung. A man could walk into the ocean if he so pleased and could become one with nature. The life wasn’t celebrated, nor the death feared. Such a place must be hard to imagine for a person like you or me, but it did exist, and peace ruled the air. It did exist, if only in my imagination.

If you saw the people, you’d call them savages. There was no sympathy, no empathy, no helping, no socialising, no nothing. A person could sit on a rock by the shore all day long and admire the waves, lie on the overgrown grass (to them it was just grass, not overgrown or anything) and stargaze, wallow in the swamps on sunny days, or whenever he pleased, and make love to people of the same sex, or opposite sex, whenever and however he desired. They were much like our machines today, in a way, for they spoke with the eyes. Gazes were locked, souls were searched, and answers were found.

Did I mention they fucked their animals? Oh they did! They very much did. They lived alongside the animals. For all they knew they were equal to the animals. They used cows for milk, the cows used them to be milked. Gross, you say, twisted and sick they were, but, dear reader, they were 98% apes. They weren’t quite human yet, their brains weren’t as sophisticated as ours now are, and so even the mightiest of them wasn’t feared. A person could extend an arm and cockatoos, swallows, doves, pigeons, crows, even the hummingbirds would come to sit on it.

And the nights, oh boy, were they the nights. Even the New Year’s Night in Dubai doesn’t come close to it. For when the sun fell, and the moon hid behind the clouds, the fireflies took to the air. They danced at night, lit up the trees, flew threw the air, raced up to the skies and dove down, and you couldn’t tell if it was a shooting star. They blended with the stars so well, just like the clouds mixed with the milky way. And though the people never sang, the birds did, as they now do, and the ocean played it’s own instruments. On full moon, when the turtles left the ocean, the fireflies would lighten up the sea along with the bioluminescent fish, and you could see the sea folk celebrate the festival of the moon. They jumped out of the water, into the air, trying to reach for the moon. The whales, the dolphins, the sea cows, and the mermaids. The mer-people were the proof of the harmony and the love shared between the land folk and those of the sea….

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