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Dreams of Giants

Master_Yoda · 2009-03-09T12:03:48Z

EDIT: Thanks to my reviewers, the first draft of my story has been edited. It can be viewed here: [spoiler]I have asked the question thousands of times. I have answered the question thousands of times. Always, the question remains the same, and always the answer morphs into something more. Always the answer becomes more wonderful; more terrible. I doubt whether any of the answers represent the truth, but each one is in and of itself an exciting prospect. Each one represents a possibility. I have never been able to accurately gauge truth. I have never been too interested in gauging truths. How can I care about truths, when possibilities are far more intriguing; far more enticing? Maybe this is because with possibilities, you never really know what's going to happen. They always seem mysterious. They always seem dangerous... I tell a story about the real world. Or rather about a real world that might exist. I do not know the true answer to the question that has plagued my mind for longer than I can remember, but I tell a story about one of the many possible answers. And since the answer is only a possibility, I can inject it with mystery. Since my tale tells only of possibility, I know as little of its truth as you do. I, however, look more closely at the converse: you can only tell me it's a lie as much as I myself can. Only the best story tellers can give their story a life of its own. The question I ask is this: Is our world real, and if not, which master story teller gave birth to the idea of creating our world? My comfort while telling this story is that you cannot prove us to be real. Perhaps our world is real, but perhaps is merely a concept created by a being with far greater imagination than our own. With this in mind, I delve into one of the infinite possibilities. ____ There is a universe, not very different to our own in appearance. But appearances can be deceiving. The deception stems from the fact that unlike our own, the universe of which I speak is real. Within this mighty universe, lies a world far larger than our own. Blue rivers lie across this world’s surface, leaving small, fertile islands floating between riverbanks. The archipelago stretches across all four corners of the world. Those who inhabit the world have christened it Garuana. Translated into English, Garuana means simply the world. It is in Garuana that our world was first conceived. The Order of Kavaria is the largest center of knowledge in all of Garuana. Inside this religious monastery a relic lies. Only the elite of the Garuanaens know of its existence, and outside of the island Kavaria, knowledge of its existence is almost unheard of. In our world, however, its existence is known by even the lowliest of people. Inside of our world, though, it is not defined as a relic. Inside of our world, it is known as the world itself. Inside the monastery’s library, lies a book so huge that it has never been read from beginning to end. The book has existed for as long as anyone can remember. It is not dated, and its title page contains only the book’s title: “The Chronicles of Earth”, and the name of its writer: Quirantino. Nobody knows who Quirantino was. ___ Stormy clouds decorated the mountain peak. An opaque mist covered the crosslegged man who sat concealed from the view of even the mountain-eagles. Baduin Quirantino’s eyes opened. A notepad in front of him revealed a tidy cursive scrawl. The pages were weathered. It appeared that they had withstood several violent storms. Two years after he had first visited the mountain’s peak, Baduin Quirantino, heir descended from the long Quirantino dynasty, left it for the final time. His lips were curled into the wry smile that can only be attained by those who have true reason to celebrate. The final chapter of the manuscript was complete. Notepad in hand, Baduin Quarantino returned to his home on the island of Kavaria, to insert the final chapter into The Chronicles of Earth.[/spoiler] The second draft of the prologue follows. Prologue Only the best story tellers can give their story a life of its own. Have you ever asked yourself that one question? Do you know that our world is real? Do you ever wonder which master story teller wrote our story? Many a time have I asked the question of myself. The answer to this question is one of possibility, and always, it morphs into something more. Something more wonderful; more terrible. I do not tend to worry whether each answer is true, because possibilities have always intrigued me so. Maybe this is because as long as there is doubt, there is always mystery. As long as there is doubt, there is always danger... I tell a story about the real world. Or rather about a real world that might exist. My comfort while telling this story is that you cannot prove us to be real. Perhaps our world is real, but perhaps is merely a concept created by a being with far greater imagination than our own. With this in mind, I delve into one of the infinite possibilities. ___ There is a universe, not very different to our own in appearance. But appearances can be deceiving. The deception stems from the fact that unlike our own, the universe of which I speak is real. Within this mighty universe, lies a planet far larger than our own. Clear blue rivers lie across its surface, leaving small, fertile islands floating between riverbanks. Those who inhabit the world have christened it Garuana. Translated into English, Garuana means simply the world. It is in Garuana that our universe was first conceived. The archipelago stretches across all four corners of Garuana. The largest of its islands is known as Hyvria. Although geographically Hyvria is about twice the size of any other island in the archipelago, it is home to few. Most of Hyvria's inhabitants live alone, and any plans to colonize it have long since been abandoned. Archaeologists and historians alike have speculated that this is due to its treacherous landscape, which is almost entirely made up of mountains. About fifty miles to the East of Hyvria, lies the smaller island of Kavaria. Kavaria is viewed by many traders as the most lucrative port in the East. But Kavaria is not merely a sailor's island. Kavaria also plays host to the largest center of knowledge in all of Garuana: The Library of Kavaria. Inside this library, lies a book so huge that it has never been read from beginning to end. The book has existed for as long as anyone can remember. It is not dated, and the worn cover holds only the book’s title: “The Chronicles of Earth”, and what is presumably the last name of its writer: Quirantino. Even the mysterious librarian does not know where or when the book was placed in the glass box in the library’s attic. ___ Stormy clouds decorated the mountain peak. An opaque mist covered the crosslegged man who sat concealed from the view of even the mountain eagle circling overhead. Baduin Quirantino’s eyes opened, their deep blue invisible beneath the fog. A writer's pad in front of him revealed a tidy cursive scrawl. The pages were a weathered yellow. It appeared that they had withstood several violent storms. He rose, fountain-pen tucked between his robes, and descended the mountain for the final time. Starlight Peak would never see another member of the ancient Quirantino dynasty. Baduin Quirantino's lips curled into the wry smile that can only be attained by those who have true reason to celebrate. The manuscript was complete. Notepad in hand, Baduin Quarantino returned to his home on the island of Kavaria, to insert the final chapter into The Chronicles of Earth.

skjold

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Reviews 9

Thu Jul 30, 2009 3:29 pm

skjold says... · Thu Jul 30, 2009 3:29 pm

hey
very well written if you ask me.
i didnt really find anything wrong with it except:
Only the best story tellers can give their story a life of its own
story tellers should be one word
hope that helps,
skjold

you live to die in glory
hail the aesir and vanir
hail the asatru

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The greatest part of a writer’s time is spent in reading, in order to write; a man will turn over half a library to make one book.
— Samuel Johnson

Dreams of Giants

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