The news has reached the purple sea, child king has picked up the brush and is about make a new painting. Kaefen, the sea monkey carried the news to his favorite ‘smile maker the dream chaser’. “Girl, do you know, your days of picking tears are about to be over.”
It was a great day, she will no longer pick tears to create smiles, desert fairy’s curse was that till the day lost king regains power and rewrites history by new colors on a new canvas, she’ll live in the purple sea, picking tears making smile.
“Let the brush of the king paint a heart
Let the painting match with hers
she will be freed that day”
Sang the Desert Fairy a 100 years ago.
“You brought me great joy Kaefen,” said smile maker the dream chaser. She opened her fist and tears slipped away from it, they fell on the floor and turned into dreams, of all kinds and colors…they multiplied and now there were hundreds of dreams. She jumped and giggled around and tried catching the dream clouds.
Meanwhile, child king took a flight to fancy land and returned with a beautiful stroke on the canvas. Then he rushed to the valley of flowers and put some more strokes. His each stroke made music, made painting, made dreams, made joy…
Back in the purple sea, with each stroke the king made ‘smile maker the dream chaser’ built something new and threw away something cold and old, black and bitter…
King had now painted the heart. The smile maker dream chaser built an entire kingdom.
Little did she know…Little did he know.
That the curse will never be broken. Try as they may not to, they will hurt. Are we scared? Yes, fucking yes. Scared like hell. Angry and hurt too. Like a lonely boat she drifted aimlessly. Blowing with the wind she saw a ship that she thought came to rescue her. Alas it went by. Now she waits for a closure.
A closure she needs before she picks up her suitcase and knocks another door, and then another. You see, she can’t stop until there is a closure. A closure from people, a closure from hope. And she can’t wait for too long, time is running and love is wearing out. Some times people fall to rise and they rise to fall again and they keep doing this like a cycle.
Hope is the fool’s greatest dream, all worst fears are well deserved. So make no mistake about it, all your worst fears will come true. And your life will exactly be what you fear it to be, sad and lonely.
Yet you fool you hope, and that’s why you write. You hope someone will read you, understand you, someone will break the curse. Someone will love you. You are crazy, you are not for love. Yes you have a lot of them, but don’t you get it, nobody wants to take it. No body gives a damn. Don’t you learn from your mistakes? Don’t you recognize patterns? Do you even remember anymore, how many doors it had been from where you picked that damn suitcase. Did it matter to any of them? Did they even turn around to find out if you got struck by a lightening or fell off the cliff. No body cares in this world.
Relationships are bullshit. Everybody has an ugly side, you come a bit close and you can see it. From the distance they all seem pretty. And so do you. That’s exactly why they don’t wanna see you again, ever.
Yet you fool you hope. I know it so damn well that you do. That’s why you write. You think your writing is going to get you sympathy? Accolades? Love? Really, love?
“Well, some people are incorrigible. Or they are just creative. I don’t know but I know this, it is stupid to hope, but is there another way?” Said the smile maker the dream chaser.