SciFi and Fantasy Stories: Guuran

To be born is not to all, a blessing. For some, it is the beginning to an end. The start of suffering. A journey of hurting. And then, a lonely dying. And that was the existence for him, Guuran. For his life was not a living. He was misplaces among the once that danced there lives happily. He with his painful existing. And the living did there best to keep it that way. For it was they that had taking his living and made it into a nothing. For he was not them. And thus he was an unwanted nothing. Something to be disposed of. To be putt down. Yes, it was they that had taken his worth from him. Cause the joy they had, came with a price. For you can only be good if someone else is bad. You can only be happy if some are not. And you can only be wanted if someone is the opposite. And thus, the fate of Guuran.

Every forest has a bit of it. Some are made out of it purely. Others only have it like little sparkles. Like small diamonds in the dew. Magic that is. Enchanting. Bewitching. Living. And once every thousand of years, it starts gathering. And it grows. And it dances. And something is born. Never the same thing twice. That was the making of Guuran. He was a being of beauty, but he could not see it. He was a being of rarity, but was wasted. He was made for loving, but was only given hatred and contempt. He was. Alone. All alone. Because they did not love him. Not cause they couldn’t, but because they wouldn’t. If they saw him, they would beat him. They would spit at him. They would hurt him. Cause they did not understand him. They never tried. They, the village people. Still he could not hate them. He was not made that way. His broken heart was only made for loving. So that he did. Even when it broke him.

Guuran was walking in the forest where he existed. He listened to the singing of the trees. They told the fairytales of old. Passing on from tree to seed. The song surged like rivers of melting snow. The old trees with there dark and dry voices. The young trees with there light and blossoming. And Guuran closed his eyes and just listened. It was the only thing that made him feel alive. The wind ruffled his long green hair. Singing a song of it’s own. A forest is always full of song. Heard by they who listened. And Guuran always did. A forest was only quiet when it was dead. And this one was very much alive.

Guuran sat down next to an old rot of a tree. Inside it was hollow. Just like Guuran. So he had hidden his treasure there. The perfect place. And now it was hollow no more. Just like he wished to be. And he took his treasure out to have a look at it.

The treasure of Guuran was a mirror. It was very old, left behind once upon a time. But it still held its beauty intact. And Guuran held the mirror to his face and watched the reflection look back at him. He saw his long green hair, his big purple eyes and his brown skin. His three tails curled up around him, fluffy and soft. He studied the freckles on his nose and his long pointed ears, much like the ones worn by the wolves. All that was him and all that the people wouldn’t love. He put the mirror down. Tears in his eyes. And he left his treasure in the hollow once more. Walking away sadly.

The emptiness in Guuran draw him forward. His eyes was blinded by tears that wouldn’t fall. Pained by a weight in his lonely heart. And he walked and walked and walked. Until the forest ended and was no more.

What lay ahead of him was the big and mighty sea. The ocean. The never ending blue. Cold like his existents. But, unlike him, content. And he couldn’t bear it. Why was he alone with his sadness? Why alone at all? What was there secret? The secret to happiness? Cause he wanted it. How he longed for it. Happiness. A mended heart. A warmth. An ending to the darkness surrounding him.

So he fell on his knees in the water. Letting his tears storm down into the ocean of already fallen once. And he cried. And he wept. Why? Why? Why? Was there no end? Was there no hope? Was he lost? Fated to a life without living? Please! Don’t let it be so. Please. Not so. And his sorrow fell down into the mighty blue. Crying. Calling. And the ocean answered.

Guuran could feel to cold hands on his shoulders. As he looked up he met the green eyes of a creature of water. A merman. Child to the sea. And the creature smiled at him. No one had ever given him that before. The gift of a smile. And more tears found there ways out of his purple eyes.

"Do you want it?" the merman asked him? "To see the wonders of the sea? The joy of the oceanlife?" Guuran nodded.

"But I must warn you", the merman said. His complexion turning serious. "It comes at a price."

"I want it."

"Even if it is the last thing you will ever see?"

"Yes." Guuran had decided. The merman smiled at him.

"Then take my hand," he answered. "Brother of land" So Guuran did. And the merman pulled him down under the surface. And he showed him all of the beauties of the sea. All the happiness that is to be found underneath in a coldness of blue and green. And Guuran was happy. Guuran for the first time in his existence, felt alive. And there in lay the irony. For it was a happiness that came in a great price. For a creature of land can’t live in the country of water. So with joy in his eyes, Guuran drowned. Down there in the glorious riches of the sea.