The incredible story of the birdman/2
The monks brought unknown fragrant essences. Everyone who suffered from an illness, had a disability, felt pain, was cared for by them. Healing ointments and tinctures immediately took effect and brought salvation to all those suffering. The villagers have always been curious and asked for their mixture, as they do every year, but the monks responded with a silent smile. Only the abbot knew the true secret of its composition. And so all together celebrated the harvest festival in high spirits. Ate and drank, musicians played and the youthful folk danced extensively to the old traditional sounds. Everyone enjoyed the life. They have been lucky. Their valley lay hidden in vast mountain landscapes; the earth was fertile and the river supplied them with fresh water. But the true guardians were the monks. The monastery exuded a watchful and protective magic. A feeling of security.
But one day everything should turn out differently. No one had any idea yet that soon changes will occur. There was already some discomfort in the air. At the rhythm of three years, a very special, but noticeable, "peculiarity" spread over the forests, an unexplainable aura. It was like listening to sweet songs that touched all hearts. The full moon was illuminated with magical light and the lake which was hidden deep in the woods wear a silver color cloth. Stars grazed their faces on its smooth silvery surface. Whenever these constellations between heaven, earth and nature arose, the wise abbot set out for the path through the woods to the lake. But he knew that this time it would be different from all the others centuries earlier. It was written in the ancient scriptures that he kept and guarded in the monastery, as it were ordered to him from childhood onwards. He set off again through the woods to the mysterious lake. As always he carried a little golden jug. When the abbot reached the lake, he waited until the protective branches and roots of the giant trees gave him access to the waterfront.
He bent to the water, tilted his head to the water surface and remained in this bending position. A feeling of heavenly love and peace were lying across the lake. It shimmered warm and golden, while its head remained facing the water. He never looked up because he knew that Mitra the great goddess of love was in the middle of the lake and allowed him to draw immaculate water with the golden jug. That's why the jug was made of pure gold to prevent the lake from being polluted during the act of taking water.
The divine water was the secret of all healing extracts and tinctures, which healed people with selected herbs and was only used at Thanksgiving. It was Mitra's annual gift of love to the people, as they never forgot her and treated her beloved nature with awe and respect. But that night everything was different. So while he was scooping the water, he noticed a shell being washed to the shore. Even her outer shell was completely made of mother-of-pearl and shimmering in the clear water. With his right hand he reached out and looked at her mutely and thoughtfully. Then he sighed from the depths of his heart. "Exactly the same way it was written," he thought by himself. The first time that he felt pain in this peaceful and divine place. He didn't even notice that quiet tears from his clear eyes were dripping on the surface of the water. He straightened up, placed the shell in his left palm and opened its shell. There was a silver pearl embedded in a shimmering mother-of-pearl case. It was a tear of Mitra, the goddess of love.
All rights belong to its author. It was published on e-Stories.org by demand of Jürgen Skupniewski-Fernandez.
Published on e-Stories.org on 06/28/2018.