Schizophrenic Poems, Short Stories, and Thoughts

1: The Mystery of the Harp

I was a slave once, a slave to my own demise. My mischievous and adventurous soul got me into a lot of trouble. It’s not that I was reckless and irresponsible, I just got bored easy. My grandfather is always trying to get me to learn more about my village history, but what was the point of history. There was deep forest and lush greenery, sounds of nature and beautiful music to be discovered. I was not one to sit still and take life lightly, but grandfather insisted I study more.

I lived in the Varak Village, deep in the forest. I loved to go out hiking and taking in the beauty of the forest. Even though grandfather told me how dangerous it was, I loved to sneak out and run around when he wasn’t looking. My favorite thing to do is to make music out of things in the forest. My mother taught me about music when I was just a young girl, and I loved her for it. If I had to choose, I would say music, was my passion.

The forest was the best place to be. I loved spending the day there when my grandfather would let me. The other times, he wanted me to study and learn about the village. He was the village elder and was looked up to and revered by everyone. I honestly admired him, and I wanted to be like him one day. He wasn’t just my grandfather he was my mentor. My grandfather kept journals about the village and its history, so that one day someone would keep the legacy alive. Although, I was the only one who knew about them.

I loved it when grandfather would tell me about the legends of the forest though. It made me want to go out and explore everything. I imagined myself out going on these grand journeys and going to places I had never seen. My grandfather was always afraid of me getting lost. Although, I had a pretty good sense of direction, and told him not to worry so much. He did anyway, just like any grandparent would.

One legend that I loved the most, was the legend of the mysterious harp, found in the Istan Cave. Grandfather was the only person who knew where the cave was located. And he, wouldn’t tell anyone where it was, because the legend spoke of a horrible curse. If the harp is played, grave and terrible things would happen to the village and its people. I didn’t believe it though, instruments where supposed to be played and music was supposed to be heard.

One night, i found a journal hidden in grandfathers room. I had never seen this one before. He had made me read a lot of them, but this one, I had never seen. There was a couple pages torn out, but part of one told the location of the Istan Cave. There was no holding me back, so I grabbed a light and snuck out of the house to go look for the cave. I had to play that harp and the cave sounded amazing. I couldn’t wait.

2: The Temple of the Varak

Grandfather had taught me to survive in the forest when I was young. I used to love going out and spending days at a time there. So, I was no stranger to being in the wild. I could survive for days off berries and hunting for small game. My grandfather used to be a great hunter and fisherman. He could survive anywhere. And he taught me everything.

It was about midnight when I went looking for the cave, it was about 10 miles from the village. A small hike for someone in my condition. I could practically run. I was an awesome navigator too. I could use the stars and signs of the trees to find my way. Plus I had a map of the general area I grabbed before I left, along with a few snacks.

I traveled through the forest for about a couple hours, when I came upon a 14 foot opening in a rock wall. I was beside myself with excitement. As I approached the opening I saw a vast room, full of gems and formations. The beauty was just absolutely breathtaking. There was the remains of an old campfire in the cave, but it was very old. I made my way in and started to have a look around this amazing cavern.

I looked for about 45 minutes, when at the back of this smaller cavern, was the harp. I didn’t believe my eyes. It was old and looked like it had been there for a century. It was antique looking and rusted, and the strings where surprisingly still attached. I didn’t think there was anyway at all for sound to come out of it .

But, I had to play the harp. I walked up to it and slowly placed my hands on the harp, and when I touched the strings, I felt a strange feeling come over me. Its like my hands knew what to play immediately, and I was powerless to stop it. I started to play, and instead of terrible things happening, a beautiful array of colors started filling the air. And, the more I played the more colorful it got. This went on for what felt like hours, but I couldn’t stop. The colors where just so beautiful.

I rushed back to tell grandfather about the harp, and that the legend wasn’t true. But, when I got back, something strange was happening. The entire village was in shambles and everyone was panicking. It was strange, it was like everyone in this once proud village was all of a sudden without their memories. I ran to grandfather to see if he could tell me what was happening, but it was the same with him.

The journal with the missing pages was on his desk and open to a page. I walked over and looked and saw a passage about The Temple of the Varak. Grandfather had written it in a hurry, I could tell. I remembered there being a legend of The Temple of the Varak. It was a holy place to our people, said to be the birthplace of our faith. And, the temple where my people used to hold ceremonies. If there was any place at all I could find answers it would be there.

I gathered some more food and water and put some supplies in a backpack. I set out on the journey to undo the curse of the mysterious harp. It was about 73 miles away from the village, and took me 3 days to find. But thanks to my grandfathers journal, and his map, I found the temple. It was a massive stone temple with stone wolves guarding the entrance. I walked reluctantly inside to find a impressive room. It was full of statues and symbols that the fathers of my fathers before me had built.

As I searched for answers, I came across a symbol I recognized from the journal. I found a stone tablet with what looked like some sort of writing on it I could barely read. But, it said something to the effect, that only a person of pure heart and intentions could undo the curse of the harp. It was vague, but I had to try something. So, before i left, I said the prayer of our faith and ask for help and forgiveness for playing the harp and went back to play it a second time

3: The Way Home

It only took me a little over 2 days to make it back to the cave. I was scared that I might had gotten the wrong tablet. My village, and my grandfather was in danger of loosing the one thing they held dearest, legacy. I made my way to the back of the cave and went back up to the harp, remembering the prayer of my faith. The music had changed and the colors where even more spectacular. I played the same fashion as before, not knowing what to play but the harp guiding me.

When it was over, I felt as if something had changed. I couldn’t tell what, but i felt it. I made my way back to the village, hoping and praying for some sort of miracle. As I approached the village I heard music and merry making of all kinds. It was a celebration, and the people where the happiest they had been in I couldn’t remember when. I couldn’t wait around though, my grandfather might be in trouble.

When I got there, I walked in to my favorite meal, and he had a smile on his face. We ate, and I told him about my adventures. He wrote down every detail in a descriptive fashion. Jotting down every detail as I told him. I think my grandfather and I finally saw eye to eye. Before I went to bed, he pulled me aside and had the torn pages from the journal. It was a tale of how my family placed the harp in the cave in hopes of protecting them from a terrible secret. My family started the faith of the Varak people on a lie. They placed the harp to protect the secret. The power had just grown out of control