Every Friday “A New World”: a somewhat strange fantasy story, at times quite chaotic, of which I have had the inspiration for some time, or when I myself realized that I was living … “in a new world “, precisely.
Part 17: here
Part 18:
We know, after all: putting the heart back in place is never an easy task.
The eraculator wondered if, after all, when the heart is broken, if there is always a few pieces left. It seems to be completely destroyed, every time. Squeezed out of all its vitality.
The “duty” we impose on our heart to have to believe in it, not to give up, and we continued to consume its energy, its flame.
And as strong as it seems to us, everything has its limit. In fact, after love ceases to exist, we stop believing in it, and each time we fall into apathy, boredom, nothingness.
The man searched within himself, it had been too long that he had lived without real feelings.
If our heart could be a part of us, as a child, if this were torn to pieces … is there something left somewhere? A little arm? A leg? Something?
Maybe there is a small heart inside our inner child.
And if this part still exists … can it be reformed? Could something new be born?
In the palm of his hand, he had that energy that his companions had taken from the volcano, he felt better with that, but … something was missing.
It was something rough that had to be forged, carved, fortified.
A new heart that had to be different: more attentive, a little more collaborative with the mind, therefore rational and less reckless.
Surely, however, he needed to feel the love within himself again.
So, without telling anyone, he decided to go to the Phrob volcano alone, without warning Gugu and company. He took the train, and left.
How strange that new world was: with so many uncertainties, with new faces, you don’t know how long they can stay. Well, at some point one stops asking questions and realizing how much time he wastes being paranoid.
And then, we let ourselves be lulled by that feeling that our conscience suggests: letting ourselves go, without holding anything, away, from the current.
Without wondering who or what there is, after all.
That man was a person unable to care, but he also knew that he could not stay in that world forever.
He then arrived, also on the slopes of the volcano, went up and entered there.
The mysterious being who lived saw him, and presented himself in front of him:
– Don’t ask me to fight, I’m not capable of it. – The Heraculator told him.
– Mh, you see. You are a pacifist, but you have my creation with you.
– Yes, thank you but …
– Not enough, huh? I imagined.
– Oh yes?
– Your buddies didn’t tell me your problem, after all.
– Do you understand what it is?
– Yes, looking at you … you miss feeling emotions.
– Exactly, but …
– Want something new, huh? That it can work. Give me what I did for you, and … Can you give me your heart?
– What? And how could I do it? I would die.
– No, not your physical heart …
– Ah, well I don’t know how, uh … “extract”.
– Let me try.
The creature put its hand on the man’s chest, and they both lit up. A small arm and shreds of a heart came out of him.
It seemed they were made of fire, but now almost extinguished.
– They’re still hot. – Said Phrob, who began to work with anvil and hammer, to be able to revive what he had taken in hand.
Lo scrittore Volante 