Dust Flake (*)

I am a dust flake that flows for a century… When I was born; this room had abounded lately.  The book that I had landed on was so young… Those days, its papers were white as a snow; the smell of an ink could be felt. I was the first dust flake that dropped on the velvet bound of this book… Then few colleagues have joined me… Few more… Few more… Finally we were crowded enough to hide the purple velvet jacket of the book.  The golden letters has lost day by day… The foot prints of cockroaches stayed with us like a pattern of loneliness. No readers, no visitors… I was quiet old when the curtain has felt down to the floor. A strong but short lasting voice occurred; then the light has begun to rain inside. But I was not able to move; some of my colleagues joined to the others that were dancing during the light rain. Virtually, they could hear the song but the years taught to be silent, deep and patient. I was good at to be deep… So I was generously given a deep despair to stay here forever… But I was not good enough to be patient. Boredom is something fatal for a dust-flake, you know… A cleaning fabric can be your killer, or a breath that puff to you…   I had just kept stay where I was: Hopelessly, deeply and impatiently.

Years’ gone.

Unhappiness is a feeling that is booked for a human… So, if a dust flake fells unhappy, it shows that, a dust flake steals from humans’ world. I stole that! I stole unhappiness… I was sharply unhappy… Yes, I was unhappy till today…

The door was opened.

The essence of the wide bloomed Victorian roses covered the room… “A lady”, I whispered slowly… The “one” who opens the door after a century… For few days I had been planning to face another century on this purple velvet… But the very (long time) expected visitor has come. She opened the door and unlocked the chest of possibilities. Possibility to move somewhere else.

But then, for a moment a hundred years old despair has come and found me again. Why me, I asked to myself? Why should she try to reach me? What could be the rational reason that makes her come and take the book where I am on, among thousand of others? Chance? Oh, sorry I never had got it! Destiny? It was written so short: “you are going to be dust-flake!” Possibility? One in a thousand… Lower than low!

But a voice jam is heard… The voice belongs to crowded… A bunch of meaningless dustflake’s cryings. A human can hear this as a “huff” but actually it is a huge scream. I saw that silky smooth hands that time… The others flied to the humid wooden floor. But I held the purple velvet bound tight. A tight hold-, hope to carry me to the best place that a dust flake can be landed… I was dreaming about it ten times ten years. She carried the book for a while, put it on her knees. This was the first time that I could see her face completely… This must be the face that was painted in that book to strength the story…   This must be the face of the princess that is written in it. She reached her angelic fingers to pick the bound up… I held the velvet once again… But I wasn’t strong enough to stay there… The bound raised and downed on to her knees. I left my home after hundred years at that time… I was on the bedlike kness of a princes and I could sleep there till she get rid of me… “This is the perfect end” I thought, “Realy it was worth to dream…”

I was not only dustflake anymore, I was also happy dustflake on her warm embrace…  She was like a silent mountain lake… No trembling… No sudden action… Warm, ocean breeze…

But then, something happened…  A sharp voice cut our placid conversation… Hmm, what was it shouting… Guess, “Heeeeeyyy! You! Stupid maid! Have you finished cleaning dusts?”

“Yes” she lied.

Before she left the room, I hide my self in her pocket. To live as a happy, hidden, old dustflake till laundry time. Hope, lasts one more hundred years.

(*)  İngilizce yazmam ama öyle bir denemişim, meraklısına okuması için ekliyorum… Bir çok yanlışım olmalı… Ama ne demişler, denemekten korkma :))

(**) Türkçeye çevireceğim bu hikayeyi en kısa zamanda, çocuk hikayesi değil tam olarak ama çocuksu bir hikaye diyelim :))

(***) Printwork belongs to Little Fox.

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