The short story of this week

…Silence is Gold!

By Kambis Riazy (Apeiron Kambyses)

It has been a very long time! Far away from any sign of civilization. His beard longer than ever before, his face burnt many times under the sun, his hair grown in every direction, his cloths torn and bleached by the salty sea water, his appearance resembled wild animals. He had enough time to teach himself how to survive in this harsh environment; he knew what berries to eat, how to catch fish, and even how to entertain himself, so he wouldn’t forget the human language. He also had made some simple tools, which would enable the continuation of his existence. He had spent way too many days in this jungle to care how he ended up here, whether it was a plane crash and he happened to be the sole survivor like in the movies or it was just the result of a voluntary escape.

It was hard to believe that this two legged creature was once a rather successful bank manager. Every once in a while, he would remember the old days; the great food, the absolute and omnipresent comfort, his apartment, his lifestyle. He used to pay great attention to the way he presented himself; silk tie, finest white shirt that would magically hide his sweat and tailored suits. He was simply the personified image of total fortune! It used to be relevant for him to keep this image constantly upright and to convince everyone of his success and there was no sign to doubt that, although his countless wishes for better days had always remained unnoticed. He was always surrounded by various people, faces and voices, but none could be considered a friend. The emptiness was always genuine.

Suddenly the wiggling fish in his hand that he had caught earlier brought him back to his current condition. It was time to kill the fish and prepare it. He remembered the first fish he caught. He felt like in heaven! Catching that fish and eating it later was the most delightful moment of his life, better than anything he could remember. He had been hungry for days and that fish seemed to be sent from the gods just for him. He could remember every detail of the fish, its colour and how it sparkled in the sunshine, its strong instinct to return to water, its bright round eyes. But most impressive was his own desire and ingenuity to survive.

He built a small hut, hidden in the bosom of the wild jungle, almost invisible to untrained eyes. That hut was his pride and joy, he knew he could find rest and peace in it anytime. It was his little paradise. Of course it was much smaller and simpler than his residence of the past, but it was his haven and his shelter. And in addition to that, he had never felt lonely in his hut.

The jungle had become his turf, he found a way to recognize trees easily and find his way back to the hut. He even named some areas; so there was the Peace Avenue that was flanked by palms, and there was the always empty Love Square just beyond the hills with a view over the large portion of the jungle including the Place of Joy, where he caught the first fish.

He learned to appreciate this simple world, the birds, the trees, the time under the stars and the opportunity to discover himself and face his fears. He remembered how he was always afraid of dying alone and how hard he tried to appear happy and successful. But this mask had fallen now and he had become a different person, for which he was grateful. The change was uneasy, but necessary.

One day, when he was picking some berries, he heard some unfamiliar noises in the distance. He carefully stretched his neck to find out what the source of those noises were. Some new people in his jungle; maybe they were researcher, maybe lost hunters, maybe they were from his old world and would even know his so called family and friends. Either way this was an unusual sight for him. He didn’t know how to react, whether to celebrate the end of his solitude and run towards the new neighbours, or to be wary about any possible consequences. He was missing for a very long time and probably already considered dead. He had to tell them his stories, and there were plenty of them. He had to be reintroduced to the society and would definitely become a temporary sensation for the ever hungry media. But was he ready to take this challenge? He wondered if he really had any longing for his previous life and if he ever would be able to adapt once again. After all the skills that he learnt out in the jungle would be obsolete in a city and it would be almost impossible to go back to the banking job; he was simply a different person and would never want to be limited again. Wearing the invisible chains of his slavery to the system and acting the way it was expected from an apparently successful individual. His eyes used to be open wide, but he was blind. He had many people around him and yet couldn’t be lonelier. He had easy access to every possible amenity to make him comfortable, but always felt empty and soulless. He carried a respectable title and all he had found was sorrow. How could he return voluntarily to that unforgotten existence? How could he leave his beloved jungle, his small hut? What would replace the joy of catching fish, the colourful and delicious fish?

As the night fell, he approached the hill again and looked curiously towards the direction, where had seen the newly arrived people. He saw a campfire near their tent in the middle of what used to be the Peace Avenue. His paradise was invaded and it was just a question of time that he was discovered and possibly paraded in the old city as the catch of the century. All the zoos would fight to put him on display! These new people had the potential to be more dangerous than all the vicious beast of his jungle. He had to make a decision!

The day after as the air was still fresh and moist and the fire had died, the new inhabitants came out of their tent, one after another. After a few seconds they realized a rising smoke in the distance, which could only mean that there was another human being in this god forsaken jungle. The group decided to see where the smoke came from. Soon they found a burning hut. But they came too late and couldn’t find the half eaten fish and the array of improvised tools, nor the creator of this tiny world and his many stories.