- I was in the midst of heating up milk for my coffee when something strange occurred. As soon as I pressed the START button and the microwave beeped.
One moment I was in the kitchen and the next I was in that place as if I had always been there and only now I became aware of it. I wasn't scared or anything.
Though it was dimly lit, I could clearly see the many people surrounding me.
Their faces were similar to ours, but their outfits were strange. They wore familiar blankets, rags, and decorations, yet I couldn't fully identify them. Those clothes disturbed me, so I avoided paying much attention to them.
I noticed that they were somewhat dirty, but I assumed it was because of the place we were in. It looked like a cave or a drain; it might have even been an underground passageway. The soot didn't seem to bother them, so I ignored it too.
They talked a lot. They looked sad. At first, their voices were like echoes, hollow sounds without a definite face or source. But when I focused and paid close attention, I could see their faces and understand what they were saying. However, I can't repeat what I heard because they weren't speaking in English. I still don't understand how I was able to understand them.
Those people had resigned themselves to their fate. They had lost. All of them were witches, magicians, or dreamers of some kind. Although I grasped their roles, I don't have the necessary words to describe what they did.
They had confronted magic of such violence and so unknown to them that they had been forced to stay in that underworld.
As a consequence of that displacement, the battles in the world outside of magic had been lost. Those people didn't abscond, they understood that to regroup the next step was to be out of range of that advance party.
It was not an easy decision. They were aware that taking refuge allowed for that fury to violently annihilate much of what they had built.
They were grieving but did not feel defeated. Rather, they were determined to survive in that environment, while that wrathful magic enslaved and wreaked havoc on everything in its path.
And so the days, months, and years passed by.
The dresses changed, and so did the people. As soon as I recognised a face properly, it would disappear to make way for a new one. All that movement was a bit frantic, but since we were still in the same filthy tunnel, I didn't freak out too much.
The elders frequently told the story of that defeat and when they did, time turned into water and the lines between past and present were blurred. A swirling liquid mixed them up with the words of today.
I didn't see them leave. Even more so, I didn't see an exit or anyone urgently looking for it. They didn't ignore me, but neither did they pay me a lot of attention. In the beginning, I was like a ghost that everyone saw and heard but that nobody cared to talk to. Eventually, despite the lack of feedback, I began to have a better understanding of what they were saying.
An image I especially remember is that of an adult sitting by a young person telling them about their people and their story. Although I was on the side, at times it seemed that I was that young one, and the adult was actually addressing me.
After that exchange, a flurry of enlightened glances full of recognition began. They were even sometimes accompanied by a word of affection.
Suddenly, the microwave beeped again, this time to announce that the milk was hot and that ninety seconds had already passed.
That world vanished. All its peculiarities galloped into oblivion, and thoughts and memories faded as when one forgets a dream.
I don't understand what happened. The worst thing is that the vague memories that remained hurt my soul. They hurt a lot. I understand that pain even less.
- Crikey! That's a lot! And well odd, right?!?! Anyway, guess what? Remember I told you about that lad I just met?! Well, we're having a bit of a fling, and 'you know who' still has no idea!…
- What do you see, friend?
- Nothing, perhaps. Only shadows.
A field in England, 2013
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