View Full Version : a long ago written short-story

06-11-08, 01:02 PM

The decrepit and archaic temple can be seen at the end of an emaciated road which portrays the malicious caprice of an insensitive nature. Even time and life itself seem to neglect the existence of this place. The adjacent land is desolated and arid. In fact, this place is the quintessence of solitude and hideousness because the place itself is a blasphemy against the god of beauty. The road that leads to the temple is neither long nor short; it is just the perfect road for such an enigmatic temple.
The temple resembles an ancient Greek temple or perhaps an enormous mausoleum. One can perceive the gloomy atmosphere of this forsaken place even from a far distance. Despite the extreme heat that punishes and lacerates this arid land, the inside of the temple is gelid in nature. Solitude and darkness seem to be the only inhabitants of the dreary temple. Its colossal pillars are ornamented with faces of angels and demons and in some places with the juxtaposition of both. These hybrid faces are the most striking ones because there is no adjective that can describe them. These hybrid faces share a peculiarity that would perplex any mortal and even a god as well. Some of these peculiar faces depict extreme melancholy. In fact, it seems to be that the artist of these sculptures ignores the meaning of the word happiness.

There is only one main chamber in the temple, which remains closed and forgotten by both time and sunlight. This chamber has a geometrical shape whose area can be calculated by the multiplication of the demonic faces by the angelic ones. Moreover, the chamber seems to be older than the temple itself.

I guard the main entrance of the temple with my old and heavy sword. I consider myself very fortunate because I have never had to defend the temple. Some may consider me a coward, but I just donít believe in violence. I donít remember quite well the purpose of guarding the temple. However, I remember that I swore to protect it a long time ago. It really depresses me that I donít remember neither the face nor the voice of the one who made me swear to protect it. My memory fails me many times. Perhaps, I dreamt about that faceless and voiceless entity that made me swear to protect the temple, but I am not sure. Perhaps this arid place, this horrid temple, this colossal pillars, and its enigmatic faces are all part of a nightmare, and all I have to do is just to wake up.
Sometimes I despair just to imagine that I am also part of this nightmare, and someone else is dreaming about me. I entertain myself with these fanciful ideas until boredom invades my mind and takes them away from me. Some other times, I multiply the number of demonic faces with the number of angelic faces and amazingly the result is the equivalent to the number of rains that my exhausted eyes have witnessed many nights under the fulgent moon. This same moon which is also known as the mirror of time. I also try to memorize each peculiar detail of each face, but I realize that this task is almost impossible because the faces change their facial expressions rapidly as soon as I stare at them. I think the faces mock me, but I pay no attention.

Something that used to disturb me many decades ago was that every night my eyes secreted a saline liquid. Fortunately, this inexplicable action doesnít occur anymore. I heard rumors from other guards of other temples that the name of this phenomenon is lacrimosus or lachrimation. I think that the strange name is appropriate for this strange phenomenon. I also heard that the number of temples is infinite, and that in some temples there is more than one guard. This last thought scares me for it implies that the number of demonic faces are infinite as well.
Some other more interesting rumor, albeit, terrifying is that I have been guarding this temple eternally. In other words, I have guarded this temple before, I am guarding it now, and I will guard it forever. I wish I was in one of those temples because solitude gnaws me and depresses me greatly. I feel extremely lonely in here; fortunately, the guards of other temples communicate with me sporadically. We use telepathy because none of us is allowed to leave our respective temples. I wish I could see their faces and talk to them in person. Maybe, they know why we have to guard the temples and against whom or what. I wonder who is the owner of my temple. Perhaps there is one entity that owns all the infinite temples. I assume that if the number of temples is infinite, the number of guards must be infinite too. I rather not think about this idea for if that were true, then the number of hybrid faces would be infinite as wellóand this is just too much for my imagination. I wonder if these infinite guards also secrete infinite saline liquid from their infinite eyes. All these thoughts abide my mind, and only the rain gives me solace. Although I donít secrete the saline liquid anymore, I still feel something undescribable. This undescribable feeling gnaws me just like the merciless climate corrodes this ancient temple.

I remember that many years ago one of the guards told me that the name of this abominable feeling is sadness. Only the rain placates this horrid feeling. Moreover, I believe that the rain itself is a liquid secreted perhaps by a gargantuan guard inside an enormous temple who abides above the sky. I really despise this feeling because it is stronger than I am. I wish I was dead, but maybe even after my death sadness would follow me. The only consolation that I have is the last message that I received from a guard that dwelt in a distant temple. I was told that my work as a guardian would end very soon, but I ignore the reasons for this. The fascinating thing is that the rain itself will tell me when this wonderful day will come. I am so felicitous about this that I can hardly contain myself. I just hope that the guard didnít lie to me.

The night is extremely dark, and the moon illuminates the decrepit temple. The mammoth clouds cover the arid land, and they punish it with a precipitous rain. The temple succumbs under the malevolent rain. Alas, the rain and the wind are destroying the only statue in the old temple that was built more than a thousand years ago. Only two things can be recognized under the debris Ėa face made of marble with its eyes covered with what seems to be tears and a sword held by a broken arm made of marble.