Spying the lights of the neighbouring world


Boris Vallejo - 20.873 bytes

Boris Vallejo
Star Control

For original italian text click on the flag

I have no problem to say that I'm becoming blind, why would have I to hide an event that is by now unavoidable?
For my eyes I cannot do anything more, nothing more of what I've already done, I've spent a lot of money for surgical operations and laser and in spite of all now my eyes are fading away.
Every day the world become a little darker, every day I've to turn on more lights to see.
In this way the world goes. In the evening come back home, I live alone in the middle of the worst confusion, I sit in front of my computer and I connect to a BBS and I chat with far away people that I'll never see, then slowly an unbearable pain catches my eyes and I stay to see the writings that slide incessantly, fragments of life, yellow meteors in a dark universe, I don't follow anymore the chat but I look at the indistinct sentences like if they were credit titles in a senseless and incomprehensible film, someone call me, they ask me if I'm still online, I give no answer, I lose myself in my thoughts and memories, while the film sometimes goes slow and sometimes fast like a forgotten march of an electric pianola.
For my eyes I've done all that was in my power, the opaque crystalline lens have been removed and replaced by intraocular lens, mounted on the capsule like bizarre technological gemmae and taken away the bandages I had a surprise I could see one more color...
To see the ultraviolet, to see the light before the light...
Odd sensation, my eyes before dying give me a glance over a magic and unsuspected world, a world made of light permeated by a color which I have no words to explain...
When, in the evening, I came back home and I went in the kitchen I was enchanted by the flickering colors of the gas flame, the magic in a stove, and the blu and green of the methane flame became transfigured like in an elfish dance.
No there are no words to describe that light which long before the dawn brake through the shutters and entered in the house, a kind mirage of a neighbouring world.
There are no words to describe that color, I don't intend to search them, of that color my greedy eyes drank only to find themselves avid for drinking again eagerly immediately after.
And during the night, the sky no more dark, but covered by a golden and violet gleam, a gleam that hid the stars and multiplied them to infinity, perhaps it is like the sky during the night near the center of our cosmic island, not stars but a diffuse gleam of thousand colors.
During the night I'm almost blind, I cannot distinguish the details and I cannot read the writings, but I see the colors of that perpetual gleam which filtrates misteriously from a crack that separates us from the neighbouring world.
And so the azures and the violets, stronger, cleaner and more bright, and the magic of a blue light that transfigures everything that it touches.
Seeing a woman lit up by an azure light is the same as seeing a dream come true, an unreal and diaphanous beauty, the glitter of thousand corpuscules of light which create a web of illusion.
Sweet lady of the twilight of noon, sublime goddess of the dawn of midnight, your eyes like diamonds reflect the light like a crystal and their deepness opens to my gaze a mirage of shadows and uncertain colors.
This is what I see and perceive from the time my eyes began to die, it's painful seeing the world fade away every day a little bit more, but the compensation is the astonishment for this unexpected miracle.
The world fades away and dissolves in a color that is too beautiful to explain with easy words, there are no words to describe the love, no words to describe a mirage, these are two sensations that go far beyond the sphere of normal.
My eyes are dying, but I'm grateful towards them because they let me take a glance beyond the threshold of the neighbouring world...
Of course, the neighbouring world... as it is what I see since some time...
While the world gets darker, that ghostly light grows stronger and little by little the shadows appear...
Shadows that have no body, not in this plane of reality, visible shadows only if nearly touched by this brightness, shadows that have a own life and that I discover on the walls and on the floor...
The first time with astonishment and a vague sense of fear I looked at my shadow splitting like in a mirage, but with time I learned to distinguish her mate, always the same, always near to my shadow, and sometime I have the sensation of seeing, only just out of my field of vision, the ethereal body that casts her, that body who lives in the neighbouring world where other are the colors, others the lights...
Sometimes I distinguish the shadow of her long, fluffy hair and my mind travel back in time towards a never forgotten past and then I feel my heart wrung like by a ruthless fist, because I recognize that shadow...
I don't know how many are the colors that a human eye can't see, neither I know how appears in the neighbouring world her blond hair, but I know that she is lost and recovered in this twilight that day by day becomes transfigured, I feel that she could see me, maybe she communicates, in her way, with my shadow, uncertain and grieved of been not able to say me: «I'm by your side...»

Yet, in her way, she is near me, I read this in the shadows on the wall so now... I awoken with a terrible pain in my eyes, a pain like if my bulbs have to explode at any moments because of the pressure, I sit down on the bed awaiting that pain goes by, facing up to relieve that heaviness, that absurd swelling, eyes hard as stones, pain that like glass-paper rasps from the inside my grieved eyes... and again on the wall her kind shadow that approaches her lips towards my eyes... a fresh sensation, like a spring breath that calm down the burning, a light sensation like two wings of butterfly that nearly touch my halfclosed eyelids and the pain goes away... without leaving any trace, I open my eyes to look at her pale and shaded shadow on the wall, hardly distinguable in this strange gleam, with eyes yet darkened her shadow of the nameless color appears like a violet mist, then the shadow lift up a hand to nearly touch the shadow of my face, light caress, like a web of rays of stars, and I would be able to kiss that hand but my lips find only the air and a flavour of scented fog...
Day after day the world goes out...
Day after day an essence of mist, that seems to gain consistence little by little, this color has a scent, the scent of a lost spring, this color has a flavour, a salty one of unforgotten tears, this color has a sound, that of light rustle of her silky hair, this color has a tactile consistence, that of the pressure of her lips...
The world goes out, it fades away in a miracle of love, and it is in this color that is outside the world that I find again my lost dream...
Kind shadow, dressed with the color of the regret, little by little I catch a glimpse of your eyes, two deep starred chasms, the light of the stars is prisoner of your eyes, the glitter of the last snow of spring, distant memory of lost days, dance in your eyes...
I write this sensations and look at your light shadow on the wall in front of me, above my shoulder you are looking at the words that with difficulty I pour on the paper and then abruptly two gems that do punctuation, two tears fallen from your eyes, pearls without consistence in this hostile world, but as heavy as lead in the neighbouring world, two tears that don't wet the paper, two tears that don't moisten my fingers, but that I can see for that odd joke of the destiny...
Don't cry for me, I'm not alone, tender pilgrim shadow, I have you since ever hold in my heart and a sweetest guardian angel who watches with love on my life...
These gems dripped from your eyes are visible only to me and i put them away in the coffer of my heart, because in the dark that awaits me I'm not alone, lost in the endless night, but two angels will guide my steps towards an uncertain and bright future, where all the world will be of only one color, that color that is before the light, that color that is before the dawn, and in that gleam I could at last see again a beloved face that in spite of all I have never forgotten.

Firma - 3.979 bytes

This story was written between the 13th and 16th October 1995 and it is considered one of my best stories.

Nel Mondo AccantoQuesto racconto fa parte del volumetto edito dalla casa editrice Tabula Fati di Marco Solfanelli, nella collana Malacandra, ad inizio 1999.

Ed era reperibile qui.

If you enjoyed my story and you want tell me what do you think of, you can always reach me by e-mail or tell me in the guestbook... even if i don't reply immediately, you have to be patient, I read everyday the correspondence and sooner or later i'll reply...
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This page was created by Duca Lucifero, © 2000-2005
The english version is made by Gianpaolo Brignolo.
La traduzione è di Gianpaolo Brignolo

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