My Name Is "Undead" -synopsis-
The day is like a photograph that burns in the fire and turns into ashes. When it's ashes cover the city all over, my time begins. I wake up in my bed and let everything that must be remembered rush into my memory. Everytime I open the door of my dark room I feel it opens into eternity, that's the time when I remember again that I am an immortal. Then I look at myself in the mirror and I think about the truth behind this vision. I ask myself "what is my name?"... It is not true that the vampires can not cast their vision at the mirror... This is only the solicitude of envious mortals, we are not cross with the mirrors because we never age. Mirrors dont know our names, dont show who we really are, why shouldn't we trust them?...It's like a best friend who is not supposed to know your name. But every one of us has a name... Names that noone ever knows for real....
Months ago there happened an acquaintance with a young teacher who moved to the flat opposite of mine after his daring violation of the strict rule of the city life: that is to know your neighbour! His search for the warm provincial relations that he was familiar, caused him to knock on my door in such hours which could be dangerous for him. As a person who couldnt approve his way of communication that he was trying to build, I didn't open the door although he knocked many times. But I must confess that I watched him from my kitchen window who looked right into his kitchen and I listened to him while talking to himself. One night I realized he too was trying to see inside my flat from his window, though I had been watching him in the dark. It was one of those days again which nobody living in the same apartment stepped into his kitchen although being invited and he was lost in the desperation in the middle of his growing loneliness, I decided to open up the door. But it wasn't so easy for me.
There are many principles of living in a big city but the most important and the only rule that must never be mistaken is: you can't trust people! There is the new order of this century that is becoming global day by day and spreading like a plague, noone can deny it. Even the vampires must obey the rules to survive. Now we live in those days which we are getting used to hear that everyone has a philosophy in life, this young teacher wasn't from the majority who thought that life kept on betraying themselves. Curious he was, a man trying to look for reasonable answers to his questions, extraordinarly fearless and challenging... He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation on the first night I opened my door, it was a short but delightful talk we had in between. He talked honetly about his view on his studies and his life, I guess there is no need to explain how I knew he could be so honest. His life wasnt troubling him as it used to do in the past and he was saying that he hadn't much hope about it too. At least it was like that for some time. And it was inevitably his turn to ask. Who was I?... It was late, he had to go, he was taken to the door with the hope of his next visit.
We met many times later on, had long discussions. He was a good at speech. I could understand how much he trusted me in time. He never gave up telling his own story just because I didn't answer all of his questions or compelled to answer them crookedly. It was really so easy for my immortal memory to exactly remember every lie I had told him but you mustn't fotget immortals can have scruples about. Not every one of them indeed but I myself is a bit about that kind... In a few months I had made a friend whom I had known every little detail of his life. I knew that he never told anyone about me, he did eveything for me to trust him but still he didn't know myreal name. In return, I had already dined before I met him and this made our conversations more secure for him and more bearable for me. My best service for him, excluding my friendship for sure, was to spare his life. I knew that I wouldn?t see him again the day I told him the truth, but the most surprising thing was that he did what I had thought: vanishing!?... He had left a message behind: "I wanted to be the only immortal who knew where you lived, forgive me for I couldn't stay long enough to see that you wouldn't trust me and wish me luck, my friend"... The things I've told and I will tell are as real as I am.
Months ago there happened an acquaintance with a young teacher who moved to the flat opposite of mine after his daring violation of the strict rule of the city life: that is to know your neighbour! His search for the warm provincial relations that he was familiar, caused him to knock on my door in such hours which could be dangerous for him. As a person who couldnt approve his way of communication that he was trying to build, I didn't open the door although he knocked many times. But I must confess that I watched him from my kitchen window who looked right into his kitchen and I listened to him while talking to himself. One night I realized he too was trying to see inside my flat from his window, though I had been watching him in the dark. It was one of those days again which nobody living in the same apartment stepped into his kitchen although being invited and he was lost in the desperation in the middle of his growing loneliness, I decided to open up the door. But it wasn't so easy for me.
There are many principles of living in a big city but the most important and the only rule that must never be mistaken is: you can't trust people! There is the new order of this century that is becoming global day by day and spreading like a plague, noone can deny it. Even the vampires must obey the rules to survive. Now we live in those days which we are getting used to hear that everyone has a philosophy in life, this young teacher wasn't from the majority who thought that life kept on betraying themselves. Curious he was, a man trying to look for reasonable answers to his questions, extraordinarly fearless and challenging... He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation on the first night I opened my door, it was a short but delightful talk we had in between. He talked honetly about his view on his studies and his life, I guess there is no need to explain how I knew he could be so honest. His life wasnt troubling him as it used to do in the past and he was saying that he hadn't much hope about it too. At least it was like that for some time. And it was inevitably his turn to ask. Who was I?... It was late, he had to go, he was taken to the door with the hope of his next visit.
We met many times later on, had long discussions. He was a good at speech. I could understand how much he trusted me in time. He never gave up telling his own story just because I didn't answer all of his questions or compelled to answer them crookedly. It was really so easy for my immortal memory to exactly remember every lie I had told him but you mustn't fotget immortals can have scruples about. Not every one of them indeed but I myself is a bit about that kind... In a few months I had made a friend whom I had known every little detail of his life. I knew that he never told anyone about me, he did eveything for me to trust him but still he didn't know myreal name. In return, I had already dined before I met him and this made our conversations more secure for him and more bearable for me. My best service for him, excluding my friendship for sure, was to spare his life. I knew that I wouldn?t see him again the day I told him the truth, but the most surprising thing was that he did what I had thought: vanishing!?... He had left a message behind: "I wanted to be the only immortal who knew where you lived, forgive me for I couldn't stay long enough to see that you wouldn't trust me and wish me luck, my friend"... The things I've told and I will tell are as real as I am.
posted by StreetPoet at 8:20 PM
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