Reason For A Story

What are the reasons that make you do what you do and what you are doing right now?

Every day, every daily activity you do, thought you create, fact you analyze, decision you make, what makes you do all those things?

I captured a moment of silence from one of my old friend and these were his lines.

There was once a boy trying to grow up. To be a man to achieve gentlemen title, he tried anything allowed by the God and society. He did learning things even he hated. He spoke in languages he didn’t understand. He sang the song he didn’t know. The fact that he had motivation of all things what was that?

For one something could be begun with single spark of hope. For him, the spark was started from hearing. Sounds, scents, and even voices made him out of his sense for couple seconds. This breathed fire burning his mind and his heart to beat faster for a while. So when the ignition was started he would just be like losing something and when he came to his senses, he smiled like everybody else before starting conversations, realizing his words were long gone.

Life changed and so did the weather. There was no way that spark could go without fuel. The bigger it got the larger amount of oxygen it needed. He knew his reason to light the spark would be obsolete and dead but instead of searching the new ones, he stood for his old matter. He defended his reason as he was like to sleep on it. Anyway, he never slept for a reason.

He was stubborn. He stood when the other people tried to extinguish the spark. He didn’t do anything to change what had to be changed. He just played his role at his best shot and all actors had their own time limit of acting. When the curtain fell, he also knew that his role was no longer necessary but he didn’t move out from behind the stage. He took steps outside his house alone along with the lonely road. He spoke with stones and laughed with the sky and clouds above his small head. He also climbed the tree of local forest to the highest point he could get. He watched over the mountains before all of the sudden he did the leap of faith like the assassins. At several moments, he even danced along the rain with his ears covered with damned melodies running him to always almost death situation.

For one time, there was one thing which brought down his ideals and his standing. Since there is no way mortal can live forever, he died at his last hunt. His name was vanished into the darkness of the woods. His friends had abandoned him so long ago. His sword was dull and his mind was corrupted. His sight was blurred and his other senses were dead. His empty vessel was never buried since people couldn’t reach his. From last intervention, his last whereabouts was confirmed under the tree where he started his sword for the first time to learn and the tree which was the first tree he ever planted.

He was once found sitting under the tree of the unknown, since it was him who brought the tree to life. He never mentioned anything about the tree. The leaves were all green since his existence was found and never the tree gave up its leaves even a single one. His watch stopped at last sequence of twilight and his sword stabbed the ground so deep so nobody around him was even interested to pull it a little.

Spark could be re-ignited in any forms. For one, that form could be the other spark and for another that could be the scent of the forest. His sign was red rose since he took the insignia himself from the grace of the dead. Until now, his body is still there unchanged, unconscious, and still. No one knows if he is still alive but his mind was known to wander. He played his role with no one watched and the referee was never on his side of the road.

Silence my old friend gave to me was intact. I was taken to see the tree and he was right. One of the old asked, “Have you look at the true-yet-wrong-but-true-but-wrong mirror at the lake of life?” I guess I have to agree with this old saying. His body wasn’t eternal of course but his ideals of steel-like stubbornness should be praised. His soul has been wandering anyway until these most of days at least and he might be easy to find by whom started the journey from planting the tree and climbing those things first.

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