Bleeding Like The Stars

By Irina Serban

A collection of stories by means of which the reader discovers the teachings of the elements: fire, water, air, wood!

The book is a guide through the unheard answers offered by all creation daily and urges one’s imagination to recreate the old scenery of story telling around a fire when the universal themes of love, solitude, perseverance, aloneness, and courage were tackled by means of parables and fables.

Therefore, each story becomes a metaphor of the human weakness and strength and of all the qualities and struggles in between the two.

"Life happens as it should happen, with or without us witnessing or acknowledging it. Just like a star shining brightly or bleeding its last light in its falling: it lives and falls regardless of our degree of participation to the events of its life or imminent fall.

Oh, but it would be so much fun if we were completely present into every second of this wonderful show of which each of us can become a protagonist!" - the author, Irina Serban

• Language: English
• Publisher: Irina Serban
• Release date: Apr 3, 2016
• ISBN: 9781310854101

Irina Serban

"I am a Romanian living in Italy and writing in English. Through writing, I discovered the best modality of bringing to life an inner world that not even I knew it existed, a world that knows no boundaries, and where everything is possible. Writing is one of the most magical experiences: seemingly, you are alone, but the Spirit of the World is there, by your side, whispering to your heart secrets, which nobody else can hear. It would be such a pity not to listen and share! In the end, this is my way of trying to make a difference, to put myself and others in front of a mirror and make us question, since questioning makes us evolve, change and grow." The author, Irina Serban The author writes on her blog regularly: http://www.thewhisperingvoice.com/ and on her official Facebook page http://www.facebook.com/thewhisperingvoice. She is a published author (Tribe: Write Magazine, UK; PlumTreeBooks anthology, Ireland; Indies Unlimited anthology, USA). She has been featured on various blogs, and her works were included in the Indielit Catalogue. She is the 3rd place winner of an article writing contest hosted by The Writing Studio, with the article "Who is Your Enemy?" She is also the winner of a flash fiction contest hosted by Indies Unlimited and of the #1story twitter challenge hosted by Tribe Magazine.

Book preview

FOREWORD

"Doubt not that you can shine, too!

Rise even higher during the darkness of your days!

Ease the burden on your soul, and let it free!

Amazing things await you beyond the veil of impossibilities!

Make your life magical!"

This is what a star said, and I read between the lines: DREAM! I stretched my hand to touch it, but it fell, and in its fall, the star bled light.

May we all shine like the stars! May we spread our light humbly but, at the same time, aware of its usefulness in this vast world! And if we are to go through dark times, may we still bleed light!

This is my gift to you: a collection of very short stories that, hopefully, will add a little bit of magical dreaming to your days.

A big hug to all of you, my beautiful readers!

The author,

Irina Serban.

THE MOON SAID…

I

I am what I am, and I do what I am supposed to do each night. Sometimes, I am like you, human, and do what you do. Climbing up a cloud out of a need to surpass it and let my light shine, playing hide-and-seek with it out of a need to have fun and laugh, letting myself covered in its greyness out of a need to rest—I do all of these, said the Moon opening up her eyes onto the world beneath.

"But you, human, through your vision, make me change: you see me waning, you see me waxing, or full.

I am what I am, and I do what I am supposed to do each night, even hiding from you and playing with you, human, for I am always full. Yet, I know now that I can't do what you do. You succeed in giving me the one thing that the whole universe couldn’t: imagination, and I'm trying to see myself through your eyes. Oh, you are powerful, human!"

Listen! Can you hear the Moon singing?

II

"I am watching through the thin veil of Time. You might believe I can see secrets hidden beneath the rocks of the reeling planets. Instead, I see your face looking up at me. I see you with a beautiful smile hanging in the corner of your lips, and I know that Time is a forgotten human invention when confronted with the eternity of Love. They tell you 'Time will heal the wounds'. But the truth is: Time passes, Love heals!"

This is what the Moon said tonight, and I saw her winking.

III

She said: I've been waiting for you all night long. When I saw the Sun rising, I thought to linger a little bit more. I missed you yesterday night! Now, come to the window and smile! Start your day believing that impossible things are possible! I stood here waiting for you, didn't I? If I could face the day, you can do it, too!

I sent her a kiss, and she disappeared behind a cloud. Maybe, she went to sleep and let the Sun rule over the day.

IV

One night, the Moon was longing for the Sun. Unaware of my presence, she thought out loud:

"On the other side of the air, there's your warm breath smelling of unborn stars. On the other side of the air, there's your stretched hand, which used to hold mine.

You lost me somewhere, in the thin veil separating your world and mine. And in its mist, I'm searching for a way out, on the other side of the air.

How can I tell which side is yours, and which is mine since we've become the reckless illusions of a dreaming god? We've become its breath, we fit in its hands, and we're as vaporous as the air. Will the wind push us one towards the other? Will the thunders make us search for each other's embrace? Or will the clashing planets lit our hearts with hope?

Everything's as deceiving as the air, and maybe, you never existed, and you were only the image behind a short blink of my eyes. Maybe, I'm the goddess who brought you into being and ordered your destruction.

No! On the other side of the air, there's the truth about us: an unwanted dream of a blind god, unwilling to protect us.'"

V

I was listening to the fretful steps of the Moon when thunders covered their soft movement. Dark clouds encircled her, and I thought: This is not her night to shine!

I was wrong. She didn't try to push them away! She didn't become noisier in her walk! Instead, she stopped for a while, gathered all her forces and shone brighter. The clouds turned into her golden cape, and the thunders grew silent.

If only we were more like the Moon! What a wondrous thing to do!

GLIDING LIKE THE MOON, BLEEDING LIKE THE STARS

The sky must be made of ice for there is no greater beauty than seeing the Moon glide on its black surface. Or maybe, that's what the Moon wants us to believe, because one night, I realized that the blackness belongs to her hair covered with a thin, dark-blue veil carried by black ravens, as black as night. She always glides proudly, gracefully, keeping her chin high and demeanour serious.

Sometimes, she intently stops in front of my window. Suddenly, there is no rush in her walk any more, there are no other corners of the world waiting for her light. It's just me, and her, and the relativity of time. She stares at me with her big, round, silver eyes, and I can presently feel her scolding me as to why I’m sitting still when there is so much to be done, so much to be discovered, so much to be shared.

What does she know? She only sees the carcass of a wandering soul. If she's so wise, she should know I'm there, with her, every night, travelling, seeing what she's seeing and adding to it what I'm feeling. She should know that the body she sees is just a house where my soul chooses to come and go at his own will. She thinks that running to and fro is doing something, when, instead, standing still is the most difficult journey for it is walked in solitude and silence, without ravens carrying your star-embroidered veil.

She keeps looking at me in full amazement for two nights, then, she wanes, bored by my stillness, leaving behind a few bleeding stars torn from her veil by my wish to see her longer.

Gliding like the moon, bleeding like the stars, my soul returns home and urges me to sweet sleep and dreams about worlds where the Moon knows we are as wondrous as