I once met a peculiar old man by a little elder well; his beard was a shimmering grey in the falling twilight, his hair fell about his face in a cascade of waving curls, clinging tightly about his wrinkled features in a frizzy, silver halo; and his bushy eyebrows appeared to always be drawn together in the look of deep meditation.
I came upon him, one particular night, a large, clay pitcher in my hands, and I noticed he was staring into the gloomy depths of the old well. From here, his brows were pulled together, as I have mentioned, a look of concentration tugged at his lips, his eyes, and pale cheek.
He had no jug, none that I could see, but he simply gazed; gazed, thoughtfully into the abyss framed by cobblestone. He stood still, basking in the ethereal glow of flickering stars, dancing blithefully above our lowered heads; moonglow pooled upon the green, glistening between swaying blades of turf and of elegantly dressed flowers, delicate petals humbly upturned, contentedly drinking of the rich, silvery light.
The air was filled with the symphony of sleepless field crickets, cheerily chirping a song to which their kind knew, and only an owl dared to join in, mournfully weeping, alone through the dark. The forlorn sound quieted my active mind, though my heart was thoroughly, and utterly alive, beating alongside the graceful orchestration of the evening fall.
My conscious returned to the motionless figure, who now appeared to me all the more alluring; his fair head crowned in a cornet of gleaming starlight, garbed in the robes of the angel-kind, fabric clasped tightly around his slender frame by a gold buckle at his throat, and his reedy hands grasping the wall of the cobbled well.
Evermore, he leaned, dangling precarious over the edge, his stare fixated on that below him, seemingly unconscious of his head slowly dipping downwards. I raised my hand to shout, but my exclamation came too late for;
Lo! he tumbled forward, bare heel overhead, into the somber depths of the little old well, uttering a faint cry before a loud splash smothered it entirely. I hurried to the cobblestone edge, peering down in distress calling, ‘Sir, my fair sir! Are you alright?’
Clear laughter sounded from the darkened depths, warm and bright, like the ringing of a youthful bell, filling every inch of me with relief, ‘How foolish am I, for tumbling inside!’ said he.
‘Whatever were you doing for such a thing to happen, sir? I inquired, cautiously leaning over the side. I could faintly see his shadowy form, surrounded in a sea of sparkling stars.
‘Why, I was star gazing, my friend. See how beautifully the stars are reflected in the clear water; it is nearly like a gateway to a second sky.’
He was right, the speckled heavens reflected almost perfectly in the rippling pool of water, mirroring the brilliance from above. This particular observation from he, caused me to consider him a thoughtful fellow, perceptive perhaps, and fairly unusual; though I held him in the highest respect and honor, for the wrinkle in his cheeks told the tale of his many years of life, and the vast knowledge that he held.
I aided his escape from his watery prison, and I asked him what his name was. With a faint smile dimpling his creased features and small droplets of water falling from his chalky hair and frail frame, he said;
‘Thales.’
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139,032 Literary Works • 672,398 Reviews
I love this so much! i'm sorry i'm not good at reviewing but it's okay right ToT
I really liked your title ^^ it drew me in because you used a lot of imagery in it! When I clicked on it, it was JUST as beautiful.
literally i think this might have touched my soul ToT
have a good day!
love,
hop
Wow, thank you so much for this wonderful review, Hop! I am so pleased that my story touched you so %u263A%uFE0F <3
Hello! I'm Milesperhour, here to review your lovely story! I'll be typing this while I read so apologies if it sounds a bit rambly.
First of all, this story uses great descriptive language right off the bat, I can vividly imagine the place mentioned within the first couple of paragraphs, as well as the old man. Everything is described incredibly beautifully, making it seem more like a poem then a short story at first.
"The air was filled with the symphony of sleepless field crickets, cheerily chirping a song to which their kind knew, and only an owl dared to join in, mournfully weeping, alone through the dark." for example I really like this sentence, especially paired with the line right after it.
This very eloquently written first half provides an interesting contrast when the old man straight up falls in the well lol, I was pretty taken aback and in the end it had an interesting message too.
Also I looked up the name 'Thales' and apparently he was a greek philosopher. I'm sure that was intentional lol.
Overall, this is pretty good! Don't have any criticisms that I can think of
-Milesperhour133
Thank you so so much for taking the type to type up this review!! <3
Within the shortness of it all, comes a great pacing and flow that makes reading this very fulfilling. There are many elements to this story that makes it so easy to be compelling: the language, the prose, the setting, and especially how it's told. Right away, I notice how the language & (especially) the flow of the story is very reminiscent of old myths. While the story is in first perspective, there still remains some detachment as both we and this narrator are placed as observers—which also adds to the feeling that this story is told as a myth, and so fits quite well with this story.
Despite how the story is reminiscent of old written myths, still the prose possesses its own personal traits to it, which creates this unique language that can be perceived as being both personal and very inspired at once.
This elderly man being framed as the epitome of peace, through the comparisons of things stemming from the long distant past, such as angels and meditation, reminds me of how one would perceive a god. Which becomes even more interesting when we find out who this man is:
Thales, the ancient greek philosopher who believed the Earth floated on water. This information recontextualizes some aspects of the story, which makes it so interesting to re-read. When rereading, this man's fixation on the stars appearing as a "sky" in water is an interesting, simply great way of explaining this philosopher's belief. For the man to dive into the water, basically getting "deeper" into the well could be a metaphor for how the real Thales greatly identified with this belief (or how we greatly identify him with that belief).
The distance between the narrator and this Thales for him to appear as a shadowy, vague form in the well's depth gives emphasis on how Thales don't just identify with this belief; but basically submerges in it, and embodies it, to the point of almost becoming a myth from the ancient past. As if he is an epitome of a great, figure not completely lost in time but so ingrained in it, that the way we interact with him is so distant but still meaningful.
I found it very interesting that this is mentioned, especially as it would seem so minor within the text that focuses so heavy on the nature, the people, and the well. Considering there is focus on an ancient greek figure, I thought perhaps this detail could be inspired by generally greek culture, and maybe greek mythology.
There is quite some symbolism and meaning that can be drawn from this detail. Clay has some associations with being "formed" & "molded", not even just literally but also in myths and as a metaphor (ex: Prometheus molding clay, Athena giving life to human by blowing into clay). The narrator holding this clay pitcher could hint at the narrator being "transformed" or "molded" by this interaction they had with Thales, basically being a symbol of being forever changed by Thales' perspective.
Other than the general proprieties of clay, the usage of clay pitchers being to hold water could symbolize the the narrator "holding" the memory of Thales and his beliefs, or the narrator not "holding" any wise perspectives from Thales until their interaction (because the clay pitcher detail being noted in the very beginning). As clay pitchers were also used to tell greek myths, that aspect could mean the detail here could just be a hint at the narrator meeting a figure who is like a myth, and almost "god-like" himself.
The personification was interesting—being a little story of itself. The birds speak (well sing) of something familiar to them all, while the owl is isolated. While in the overall story, the narrator is an average person who interacts with Thales who is joyful and fulfilled. Owls are typically a symbol of wisdom, just as this Thales represents wisdom. I just found it neat that there are, in a sense, two stories of a (The owl & Thales) symbol of wisdom who are apart of society (The birds & Greek) having a parallel (representing wisdom) but also end up at different states of mind and places (The owl is isolated and mournful, while Thales is together with another being and fulfilled).
Which speaks to me; while many people associate wisdom with being isolated from many others and being lost in the world, wisdom *is* potentially able to bring togetherness and fulfillment. (This is just me grasping at straws and being nit-picky because I find philosophy very compelling despite not know much about it)
Other than my (incoherent) ramblings and (desperate) interpretations, I truly found this story so great!!! A lot of the prose, the interactions—they're so lovely. Keep writing!!
Wow, this is so wonderfully indepth! Thank you so so much for the amazing feedback and taking the time to type this all out!
aw ty, i'm glad it is!!! you're very welcome ^^!!