Astaparata
Member
- Joined
- Feb 25, 2008
- Member Type
- Academic
- Native Language
- Greek
- Home Country
- Greece
- Current Location
- UK
A short definition of the zahir goes as follows: an object, granted with the power of creating an obsession, to anyone that gazes it. The reality fades, as the viewer is drawn closer towards the zahir. It has appeared in various forms, in different people, throughout the ages, for no reason at all. People gaze at it, and perceive another reality. A blank notebook, an elevator, a tiger, and a woman, have fulfilled their roles as zahir in the past. However, only one thing can be allowed to be zahir at a time, thus preventing chaos.
Very few individuals, including me, are granted with the task of turning an object to a zahir. As I was to perform my task, the object that I had chosen slipped from my hands, fell and broke in two pieces.
The problem was that this object was a mirror. As I gathered the broken pieces I noticed the most extraordinary thing. On the first piece, my face was reflected, as expected of course. But in vain I looked for my reflection upon the other piece. I stood in awe, as I realised that blankness was there and nothing more. Along with my luck, a fragment of myself had deserted me. I still can feel it abandoning me, like a wind.
Shortly after that unfortunate incident, a man appeared in the streets of your city. Bohemian. Smooth-tempered. Suave mannered. Casual dressed, and yet he always wore a flower on his lapel. Every time he was asked about his past, he would vaguely reply: “I consider Nod, as my homeland. I also drink too much. I guess that makes me citizen of the world. My name is Erasmus by the way.” Everyone was intrigued by his presence, and everyone failed to notice that his arrival coincided with the beginning of the millihelen frenzy. Millions of objects, instead of one, appeared with the tendency of being a zahir. What should have been one was now composed of many different pieces. From the factory that produced them, to the supermarket shelves, then to your pocket, and finally in your mind, these perverted versions of zahir could be created, purchased, consumed and then run out. Then again created, purchased, consumed and then run out. Erasmus had created a vile circle, in your expense. It shouldn’t have been so many of you. You shouldn’t have evolved into that disgraceful person. But as time passed, things went worst.
The commercial only extended its sphere of activity. It was hard to avoid it, since it was practically everywhere. Inside the pages of magazines, on billboards, during the TV intermission, or even as a pop up window on the internet. All that time it never occurred to you, that the man, who claimed to be from Nod, was the guilty party for your obsession. Why he did it? I don’t think that this matters anymore. He was there, watching and observing all of you, as you were heading for a forged reality.
My guess is that he wanted to experiment with his newly acquired power. I am certain that naming the zahir millihelen, it was his way of showing his disrespect towards me and my name. A foul token, meant to provoke me and humiliate me. As far as you are concerned, he merely wanted to test the limits of his influence on objects. On you especially. But now it’s over. I managed to track him down and stop him. I didn’t caught him though. He escaped, which is bad, lacking the power of zahir, which is good. Now all its left for me to do is to lead you back to truth, and away from -Hush!
Hear that sound? Look! There! A crack. It is happening. Sooner than I expected. Here, drink this. Your time in this place is running short. Everything that was a part of the millihelen reality shall perish. A world that will crack from side to side. You must leave now, otherwise you will perish as well. I came here to warn you. You drank all of it? Good.
As you will slowly return to the reality, you will have a dim memory of me explaining to you. But that will last only for an amount of time equal to the one that it is given to the butterfly to flap her wings. My presence in your thought and memory will soon fade out. As for the fake zahir it will be considered as a passing fad by your society. It is certain that you will wake up, dirty and hungry amongst many empty bottles. With no doubt you will begin to wonder why and how all these empty bottles came into your possession. I envy you. You will never remember that it was you that came into their possession. So long.
-len. Mill.
I open my eyes. I had just woke from a dream. A nasty one for sure. An ugly stench reaches my nostrils. I stink. About the same time, I can hear my stomach rumbling. Can’t remember when was the last time that I ate or bathed . All I can remember is having a dream. There was this woman. Talking to me. I guess that I murmured her name as I woke up. It was Millie or Milena, or something like that. I think that she gave me to eat or drink. God, am I thirsty. What on earth is this pile of bottles, by my bed? Better hope that I can drink them, or I ‘ll throw them in the trash. I think we were walking, at this place. The funny thing is that I had the notion that I was alone, but she spoke as if there were others there as well. Then what else was there? A butterfly comes from the window. Why had I slept with the window open? The bottles are empty. I ‘ll throw them on my way to the supermarket. But first thing first, I ‘ll have a bath. What was I dreaming? Can’t remember anymore. Well easy come, easy go.
Very few individuals, including me, are granted with the task of turning an object to a zahir. As I was to perform my task, the object that I had chosen slipped from my hands, fell and broke in two pieces.
The problem was that this object was a mirror. As I gathered the broken pieces I noticed the most extraordinary thing. On the first piece, my face was reflected, as expected of course. But in vain I looked for my reflection upon the other piece. I stood in awe, as I realised that blankness was there and nothing more. Along with my luck, a fragment of myself had deserted me. I still can feel it abandoning me, like a wind.
Shortly after that unfortunate incident, a man appeared in the streets of your city. Bohemian. Smooth-tempered. Suave mannered. Casual dressed, and yet he always wore a flower on his lapel. Every time he was asked about his past, he would vaguely reply: “I consider Nod, as my homeland. I also drink too much. I guess that makes me citizen of the world. My name is Erasmus by the way.” Everyone was intrigued by his presence, and everyone failed to notice that his arrival coincided with the beginning of the millihelen frenzy. Millions of objects, instead of one, appeared with the tendency of being a zahir. What should have been one was now composed of many different pieces. From the factory that produced them, to the supermarket shelves, then to your pocket, and finally in your mind, these perverted versions of zahir could be created, purchased, consumed and then run out. Then again created, purchased, consumed and then run out. Erasmus had created a vile circle, in your expense. It shouldn’t have been so many of you. You shouldn’t have evolved into that disgraceful person. But as time passed, things went worst.
The commercial only extended its sphere of activity. It was hard to avoid it, since it was practically everywhere. Inside the pages of magazines, on billboards, during the TV intermission, or even as a pop up window on the internet. All that time it never occurred to you, that the man, who claimed to be from Nod, was the guilty party for your obsession. Why he did it? I don’t think that this matters anymore. He was there, watching and observing all of you, as you were heading for a forged reality.
My guess is that he wanted to experiment with his newly acquired power. I am certain that naming the zahir millihelen, it was his way of showing his disrespect towards me and my name. A foul token, meant to provoke me and humiliate me. As far as you are concerned, he merely wanted to test the limits of his influence on objects. On you especially. But now it’s over. I managed to track him down and stop him. I didn’t caught him though. He escaped, which is bad, lacking the power of zahir, which is good. Now all its left for me to do is to lead you back to truth, and away from -Hush!
Hear that sound? Look! There! A crack. It is happening. Sooner than I expected. Here, drink this. Your time in this place is running short. Everything that was a part of the millihelen reality shall perish. A world that will crack from side to side. You must leave now, otherwise you will perish as well. I came here to warn you. You drank all of it? Good.
As you will slowly return to the reality, you will have a dim memory of me explaining to you. But that will last only for an amount of time equal to the one that it is given to the butterfly to flap her wings. My presence in your thought and memory will soon fade out. As for the fake zahir it will be considered as a passing fad by your society. It is certain that you will wake up, dirty and hungry amongst many empty bottles. With no doubt you will begin to wonder why and how all these empty bottles came into your possession. I envy you. You will never remember that it was you that came into their possession. So long.
-len. Mill.
I open my eyes. I had just woke from a dream. A nasty one for sure. An ugly stench reaches my nostrils. I stink. About the same time, I can hear my stomach rumbling. Can’t remember when was the last time that I ate or bathed . All I can remember is having a dream. There was this woman. Talking to me. I guess that I murmured her name as I woke up. It was Millie or Milena, or something like that. I think that she gave me to eat or drink. God, am I thirsty. What on earth is this pile of bottles, by my bed? Better hope that I can drink them, or I ‘ll throw them in the trash. I think we were walking, at this place. The funny thing is that I had the notion that I was alone, but she spoke as if there were others there as well. Then what else was there? A butterfly comes from the window. Why had I slept with the window open? The bottles are empty. I ‘ll throw them on my way to the supermarket. But first thing first, I ‘ll have a bath. What was I dreaming? Can’t remember anymore. Well easy come, easy go.
