jueves, 28 de abril de 2011

Allwënn: First Star: Destiny.

Allwënn :
First Star: Destiny.
I can see you...
I haven't stopped seeing you. Not a second. Not an instant. I wonder if you hear me from your hole in the stars.
I keep on looking at the stars. I know you would like to know it. I taught you to count them. I could teach you just a few things. But that is my doing.
I sit and watch the sky. That sky that once we looked at together. This unforgettable and boundless sky like your skin. I pretend we are close and you are telling me secret tales only known by you and me. Secrets never told. Secrets that belong only to us. Nobody knows the truth except you and me and that one who watches my shadow. That one who kept the secret as if it never existed.
How can a look or a second change your life?. How can a simple harmless, even trivial, gesture get you? I remain tied to your eyes and I will be al my life. My pulse always beats twice in the same heartbeat. How can a man be a prisoner and feel that before that time he was never entirely free? How can the Destiny entangle you in a gaze forever?
I remember that place and that night as if before that memory there was no other: a trap, a bad business. A dead end, as always. A stolen information, a place that is a brothel in Bocas, a confidant and a blurred output. Among these hostile ingredients of those who look for each other and loose their life. Where did you come from? You were not supposed to be there, but you were. What an odd game from the Fate! I remember the smell of stale alcohol, laughters and exalted men. Low ilumination, cheap perfume, faces too much painted. Tumult, exuberance, waste of thighs and cleavage. I remember Gharin grinning knowing that he attracted the women eyes, my awkward pose, the search for an unknown face in the strange faces who spread a dense forest of hungry looks. Thinking: "we find him quickly, we take what is ours and we are gone."  Gharin giving me a nudge when watching one of the almost undressed girl passing by with her woman curves threatening like war drums. I remembered a wink, two, three, but I did not remember the color of the eyes that blinked. I remembered me disgusted with the human greed of flesh under the sheets, I remembered me wanting to leave, my infinite gaze tracing shapes, observing faces that might complicate the night, faster ways to escape if things grew hard. I remembered sinister men looking at the lining of my sword, at the expression of my face, at my way of watching them. The air can be cut with a knife; the usual of a place like that to be kept at bay.
Then my eyes started sweeping again. I remembered many non-important details that I might recite in order precisely, but I have just a memory. One true memory. A gaze crossing with mine as dozens of them at that moment. A gaze that in a second after his embrace put my world upside down. She is very young or she looks like she is. She wears an apron and a serving tray. I think she is the most beautiful creature anyone can imagine. She shines like a star on a moonless night. She stands out from that decadent place like a brilliant idea in a gamy speech. She looks at me and in that look the time stops, the air stops, the noise stops, my heart stops...
It is a second, just a second that  is worth more than a life. Those eyes look at me and pretend to be indifferent. She drops her eyes with a languor that ruffles my hair. She has just killed me and resurrected me on the spot. I do not think she is being aware of it. Then, her gaze is finished. It stops the hug. The intensity is lost. I fake a cold that my eyes do not fake. A calm that does not exist in my pulse. She looks back at the cups that collects promptly. I return to the search of my prey. But now, I can not see anything but her eyes firmly fixed in time, stuck in my mind.
A laugh is heard among the gods. Fortune knows the job is done. I still do not know but I've looked into the eyes of the unique woman in the world. The one who is destined to steal my life, squeeze in my bones, be my obsession and the only thing worthy of be remembered in my deathbed.
That night I should find a place in the stars. The hole that those eyes have left in the sky.

martes, 26 de abril de 2011

Or both ... or none of us.

(Or both or none of us-fragment, original artwork by J. Charro. All rights reserved)

"The spell was broken by the howls. They found them still embraced.
That place was overwhelmed. Everywhere. Every corner .(...)"

<<"They still have to step over my dead body." And that serrated blade howled with rage when it was got out of its sheath to meet the host that was coming over them.
In the eyes of the half-blood, those beast hungry of hate, seemed to advance slowed. For his devilish gaze, those swords were a small price to pay. In his eyes dwelt the anger and unshakable poise of a warrior.
"Tonight, we travel together. Both or none of us."
And with the same despair of those who die in advance, this half-breed of dwarves began a charge against that living wall, alone. Secure,  firm, suicide... as if he were able to stop the storm with his bare hands. As if he could swallow a hurracaine in a single mouthful.
That was Allwënn.>>

Telling this story. I needed to tell this story. It was whispered by lost voices from the pages of a book. Sometimes I feel myself living under his skin, knowing his precise emotion at any time. I live again those images  in my mind and they are more than mine because they are always his. Images that are ours.
I've seen that place, I do not know if in my dreams. I've felt that anger, I do not know if in my nightmares.
The time is close for you to know the story. For you to travel to the place, for you to taste the anger. Go there. See it with your own eyes. Go, die and turn back from death.
Survive that night and understand their anger.
Then, only then, you would be able to understand there are hearts that can only beat at the same heartbeat. 

domingo, 24 de abril de 2011

Cassandra beyond the mirrors. Brown eyes able to pierce the veil

New member of the Ghost Galleon: Cassandra.
She will give us the magic, the atmosphere, the sheath needed to believe. Cassandra goes from a fan to a collaborator. A member of this team of mad bombers. It comes with the certainty of knowing the future, with the desire to make their predictions for this fable that is weaved in the early morning with virtual paint brushes and words hidden in the folds of reality. She is coming, which is the important matter. And she will stay. She knows more than many. She knows even more than she knows.She is welcomed in this lost crew to open us her corner, her "words beyond the mirror." Our reality is much more magical, much more friendly and much more possible seen through her brown eyes with no time measurement.
Our trip will be a real adventure in your company. Thank you for restoring the faith of these old rag dolls.

"Cassandra lives beyond the mirrors. No time, no past. With scraps of a future in  her parallel universe. She observes and plays with hatters and painters dolls. Time does not affect her nor conditions her. She knows stories that have not been told, things that have not happened yet. She is the magic when she dedides to probe us the thruth. Her words pick you up to a mirror world, a dreamt, guessed crazy world, where the fouls know how to be right and dreams are blurred. Following her is like entering a cosmos without barriers or borders.  She doesn't exist. She has always been. Under her gaze hours are lost, days are lost, realities are lost. She is two brown eyes that stare what no-one sees and tell with no-spoken words the dreams we have not dreamt yet."

sábado, 23 de abril de 2011

Ariel, The Dream of the Gods. The Virgin of Hergos

                          (Vÿr'Arim'Äriel. Javier Charri original sketch. Copyrights reserved.)

"She was Vÿr'Arim'Äriel; Hergos Virgin, Lord of Magic. Wind rider of Father's Dragon Dorai priestesses. The most fascinating creature, the most intense woman nobody can imagine ever. It has never born again such a gift for a heart . She was also half-blood. It took me a long time to realize that purity means empty beings. She mixed the legacy of the elves. Silvänn omnipotence became full of richness thanks to the exotic hues of golden Nësttor, desert lonely trekkers. Sandy skin and black hair fit her purple eyes. Ariel was not just beauty. Her beauty did not mean anything to us. She was intense, magical. She could see things that no one else could see. She was touched by a mystical gift, a present from the father of Magic. She had the power to enchant with her voice and her words. Her presence calmed the beast. Her smile, worthy for lighting any God’s wishes, could break down and make fall down the most hard man. Everything about her was hypnotic. One of her gazes was enough for anyone to sin. For one night in her arms we had sold our soul. To get her heart, what wouldn’t have we done? "

Here she is, the woman whom killing and dying for everyday in a lifetime. Here is the name that the heartbeats repeat to continue running. The impossible woman that is always possible. She is the miracle, the hole in the stars, the reason to exist and fight until bleeding. Ariel is much more real than anyone can imagine. She dwells beyond the lines and text. Embodied and engendered, back and restored. When someone finds such a woman, born from a spell, from a poem, placed on your way to be found, with no other reason than to meet you, with no other reason than to exist to be the reason of another being... when someone finds an impossible woman you will steal her from a God, if it is necessary, unless you are mad. Allwënn didn’t do it. There was not God scary enough to keep her out of his hand, to avoid his last breath whispered into her lips, an ultimate drop of blood, to stop him saying her name or take her away from his memory. He did not stop. He always fought. Stealing himself was worthy, getting lost along the way, falling into madness if it was necessary. I  would had done it too. Moreover, it is what I am doing right now. This is what I will not stop doing.

viernes, 22 de abril de 2011

The One in the Two Lands

"He was Allwënn. The One in the Two Lands. The son of the enemy blood. Two ancient lineages came together in his veins. Ürull Blood. The most sublime. The  elves from the End of the World, masters of the northern kingdom. Princes among the princes. To them, he owed the beauty of his body, the innate elegance of his demeanor, his arrogance. His cruelty also, why not?. On the other side of the trenches of his heart, his  Tuhsekii blood. The Sons of Stone. The breed dwarf that provided him with fury, strength, passion, honor and tear ...
He was still the half-blood I knew. Fierce and wild. Deep and noble. His destiny had not given him yet the wounds that would marked his whole life. Those cracks that would make him be one like no other. Allwënn that night was still complete. He did not know, he could not imagine, that his legend would begin in the early morning. The price for his soul would be devastating. "

I can not imagine a character with a grater desire to live and exist in this reality than this suicide half-breed. Of all those who I have conceived, he is the only one. It is impossible to control him, impossible to tell him what to do or say. I have never created him. He has chosen me. I still do not know the reason. I am part of it. There is a strange sense of incarnation among us. I know his thoughts as if they were mine. Maybe once were they mine? I admire their ability to endure suffering, from the depths of his gestures and the bestiality of his wrath. Allwënn can sometimes be ornery, hostile, enemy. But he is always authentic and unique. If a writer can admire a character: here you have the writer and this is the character. This story takes his name because it can't not to take it. It talks about a tear and a barely imaginable pain. It talks about feelings cut with a knife. It talks about a wound that never heals. May the gods forgive me for having elected him to offer so much pain. However,  no one but him would be able to live with it and forge his legend too. You will have your reward, my old wolf.
Out here there's a world wishing to know you. Only you can amaze them as once you amazed me. Your half-blood is my blood . It is time for others to know it.
Howl and dance in the full moon nights. In your name, we will not stop howling and dancing .