the singing stones

by Mawey February. 23, 2012 4568 views

searching for an exit needs light and some guts.

i've made a makeshift torch with some rags imbued in the strong smelling fluid used to dilute the ethereal essences, and a stick i found outside the munkee house and smuggled in under my cape. when the day is done and i am allowed to leave from my duties in the lazarett, i withdraw into the dark corners in the back. and there i have discovered an opening that allows me to slip into a pitch black chamber with several holes, some of which seem to be passages into nowhere.

one of them will be my escape route.

the dark silence that fills these caves swallows all of my fear and spits it out into my pumping heartbeats, while i grope my way forward inch by inch into the hallways, with my torch flickering light ahead and my shoulders, hands, legs more then once being scraped to bloody rashes from the sharp stones. most of the holes i inspect end sooner or later in a mouth too small to press through, and so i am always forced to come back to my starting chamber, sweating and aching and desperate to find my way through, which may not exist.

and then i feel a breeze cooling my rigor and a faint, pitched sound, like singing. it comes from the rightmost crevasse that leads further down. i kept ignoring it until now, fearful to explore it's depth, though it clearly must lead somewhere to fresher air.

so i start into the darkness again, cupping my torchlight to prevent it from blowing out, into the deep. and i slip more and slide and fell my powers expiring and all the fears uprising, to be lost inside here and not find the strength to get back; a death no one notices, soon to be replaced by another apprentice at my master's alembic.

but i make step by step, following the whisper of widened space at the end of this tunnel, until it gets loud as a cry out for more, deeper, wider, LET ME OUT OF HERE I WANT TO BREATHE THE AIR MADE OF STONE I SING THIS SONGS OF FREEDOM - - -

that's where i find them, the singing stones. open mouths of sunlit streams falling in from above, caressing my scorched skin and engraving a wide-eyed smile on my face. i can't make it up there, but i know there IS an “up there”, and i will come back with a rope.

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There are 11 comments , add yours!
Giancarlo Fosci 9 years ago

wonderful set!

9 years ago Edited
Anna-Marya Tompa 9 years ago

#2 looks an interesting place, worn by time

9 years ago Edited
Anna-Marya Tompa 9 years ago

#3 is so lyrical

9 years ago Edited
Eija 9 years ago

The singing stones are cute !!!

9 years ago Edited
Jane 9 years, 1 month ago

so good to know there's an 'up there', and will to find the way; makes me smile

9 years, 1 month ago Edited
Some One 9 years, 1 month ago

wow. this is a cool set.

9 years, 1 month ago Edited
Ray King 9 years, 1 month ago

Wow. Really cool shots!.... and story

9 years, 1 month ago Edited
Rachel Mvm 9 years, 1 month ago

Those first two lines in the last paragraph, I really love them.
But I would have loved to read more about the songs. Your 'faint, pitched sound' seems to be a cliffhanger.
In the 3rd image which I really like, I can picture the walls sing tunes as haunting as the dark stone cave and yet hypnotic as the light seeping through the fissures

9 years, 1 month ago Edited
Antonio Gil 9 years, 1 month ago

One of your best posts. The openings in the stone in #2 really resemble mouths about to start singing. Amazing.

9 years, 1 month ago Edited
Crni1961 9 years, 1 month ago


9 years, 1 month ago Edited
-- Lyency 9 years, 1 month ago

dreamlike visualization of the freedom from darkness, striving for light. impressive lively narrative again - no wonder (and no doubt :/)

9 years, 1 month ago Edited