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The spirit of the drop
After this refreshing metamorphosis the damn Dame Knight felt
fulfilled like never ever before. It gave our protagonist fresh air under the
wings and brought a sensation that the love quest would be accomplished in the
very near future.
Indeed.
The encounter was just about to happen. It was early autumn. Or
maybe late spring?
The Dame Knight was passing through a
green jungle district, when suddenly the dark blue colour embraced the landscape even to the horizon.
Lit by the moonlight, He appeared. "Is it Albrecht? Could not be ..."
- the Dame Knight thought. And while He was getting closer and closer, our Dame
Knight was more and more ecstatically shivering, moved by the sound of the
Prince's voice. He was talking. And all the words that flew out of his mouth
felt like music ... Like a poem ... Like a song ...
...
Or rather like a title? Even like a quote?
"Oh no!" - the Dame Knight sadly realised - "It is not a love
declaration at all!"
A bit confused, but not discouraged yet, our Dame Knight decided not
to give up this time so early.
But the more inventive the seductive strategies were, the more He
was speaking and communicating with everything around,
but not with the delicate heart of our protagonist.
The Dame Knight finally had to admit: there was no chance for the
art of love ... Not in this constellation.
A simple wish to meet someone open
minded, self-reflective, with a sense of humour towards one's own gender (and this person was definitely existing as the Dame Knight had heard
stories about it) occurred to be an impossible dream in this world.
There was no sense in staying here for our protagonist. It was time
to move. It was time to leave the virtual sphere of corpus and face
the mysteries and true dangers of the real world.
But when the final jump was about to be made, when the first step on
the other side was almost taken, the last challenge was thrown into the face of
the Dame Knight:
"Dance
if you want to enter the country" - was said from
above.
The Dame Knight, happy to have the opportunity to try out the Shimmy
dance, started to sway shoulders, the entire body rhythmically trembling. But, to
no avail. Nothing happened. No gate at all was opening! Another shake ...
Nothing. A gentle vibration ... No effect.
The Dame Knight looked down and froze:
What was there was ...
Nothing ...
There was nothing shimmering!
Just some air, an empty space. Maybe a spirit. Could it be the
spirit of the rose ...?
The Dame Knight realised that there was no body.
The Dame Knight realised s/he was nonexistent.
S/he was standing on the edge of a bank made of billions of stones and
gravel. In front, an endless lake. Or was it a sea? Or maybe an ocean? S/he
bowed down and picked up a piece of gravel. It was colourless and somehow
weightless. Then s/he threw it into the perfectly calm lake. The stone jumped
once ... twice ... The fifth time it sank leaving the surface fretful, covered
with growing water rings.
"Am I a dream? A mistake? A virtual failure?
Am I a fake? Or am I a master mind?
Or maybe at least a holy spirit?"
And as the Dame Knight was still looking for answers, after getting
used to the thought of being just a small drop in a sea of corpus (rather than
being a sea itself), the surface of the lake got calm, flat, perfectly smooth, as
if its mirror had never been irritated by any body before.
The end
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