-1 Authors Projection Who Am I? (1/2)

Who I was, I could no longer recollect properly. Even my real name was of bleak recall to me. I only remembered the nature of my existence which was that of a human mortal from the realm of earth in the Outerworld. My existence only knew my quill pen and my rolls of parchment. Many were the names that people came to call me by, all of which I responded to unconsciously.

On this significant day, I was sitting at my oak table while writing in quick, ferocious bursts, punctuated only by my countless astral visions and my moments of reverie. I wrote because I felt the compulsion to do so, and the language of my written script, was that of the immortal deities.

How was I able to do so?

Because now, I fully understood the language and its concept. This was not my making, since I was only a mortal. This was bestowed upon my entity in order to write what I saw and would see, down, for future testimony.

It had been so long since I had written using the immortal language, making the script I was writing, to come irregularly at the beginning. The long strokes of my precious quill pen had been just a little too formative, but eventually I remembered my way. And the letters, flew from my pen like a mirage of lightning. The more I write, the more I became one with the memories and the strokes of the immortal language.

It was in the dark of the night as snow fell from a sky of umber darkness, covering the landscape of the world outside my closed window, in white. The falling snow had obscured my vision so that I could barely discern the distant, beyond my humble abode which made me decided to close the bamboo window. My chamber was well lit from the light of Cavara. The ever burning lamp that I managed to buy from the antique dealer that grazed our town, not too long ago. The light was giving my chamber a radiant glow.

Soon the events of the recent past were flowing freely. After scribbling furiously for some minutes, I sat as motionless as I could, for hours. I was watching the snowflakes drift down, and thought it welcoming that they should come so heavily. I watched the written scripts in front of me on the table as my soul tremble in confirmation. There was still a lot for me to write as my mind continued to process the recollected information it had recieved.

The snow fell peacefully and quietly since I had managed to close my windows shut. No disturbances needed, so that I could write without having to clear this oak table of mine, every few minutes.

I remembered clearly what hapened to me to trigger my scribbling away like a depraved lunatic. The memories were still fresh like engraved journals. I remembered sleeping in my bamboo bed one night, when I suddenly found myself floating back in time. My body was still lying in bed but my spirit was being carted away. This had never happened to me before.

True, I was a scribbler, but I only write accounts that were related to me in the physical sense. But this..., this was in the domain of the spirits. The anticipation of my destination was already making my soul weary and extremely disturbed.

Why was I having this spirit experience?

This question kept nagging at the back of my mind as I floated back in time. After a moment of eternity, the clouds beneath me parted to reveal a serene landscape. This was a place of lucid moonstones and cloudstones. The massive walls of this place were made from pure sunstones. The gates of ivory were exquisite to behold. The symbols and sigils covering the gates were indication that this place was the Ethereal Eternal, the Infinitum.

Fear gripped my soul, as my spirit continued to float and was deposited in front of a giant lucid mirror of rainbow colour that was emanating a divine energy. Energy so divine that it made my spirit trembled in fear.

The Million Myriads Mirror.

This was a divine artefact that no mortal or deity had ever seen without entering reincarnation. Here my spirit was, standing before the mirror as a mortal spirit. And as far as my memory was concerned, I was still a living mortal at this point in time. Not yet entered the samsara cycle.

Then, why was I here, standing in front of the divine mirror?

There was only one answer that came to my mind. Taking into consideration my work as a scribbler, I could only be here to bear a witness to a divine occurence at the least. As I continued to waddle in my thoughts, I heard a voice that sounded too close to my ears, yet, sounded very far off.

\”Pay attention to what you see, so you may write them down. They will serve as a reference in the future.\”

I turned to the direction of the voice so I may see who was speaking to me. My spirit nearly exploded from the glimpse of eternal light. I quickly fell on my knees and kow-towed to this formless entity of light.

\”Stand and pay attention.\”