"..once upon a time,
all tales tell,
but where it ends,
is a different story.."
all tales tell,
but where it ends,
is a different story.."
Dear lonely isle,
Let me tell you a story. It goes like this...
Once upon a time, there lived two villages on opposite sides of a stream. It was a peaceful community, and both sides lived rather happily in harmony.
The river was a place of extensive social activity. In the mornings it is the unofficial gathering of wives from both villages, as they head down to the stream to complete the daily scrubbing of dirty laundry and, not to mention, to talk about other people's dirty laundry too. But all in all, it's just a healthy dose of general gossip all around, and by the time the clothes are considerably clean, everyone would've known who's done what and who's done who.
On hot sunny afternoons, or basically most afternoons, really, come hail or storm, there'll always be diving champion wannabes, and a lot of snorkeling activity going on too. It was a place of pure innocent fun. And because the currents weren't strong and the river not quite so deep as to lose your footing, but deep enough for a cooling soak, children from both villages flock to the river like a swarm of flies to horse poo. Sorry for the rather distasteful metaphor, but you get what I mean.
Sunsets (and some sunrises) bring a different scene to mind, concerning the river. It now became a place to hold hands, for cuddles and general snogging amidst the setting sun (who said they were actually watching the sunset? It was more of mind-numbing, electrifying looks into the unfathomable depths of someone else's eyes, while hands take the opportunity to explore and wander to places they should not...).
While activites at the river become gradually less and less innocent as the day wears on, nevertheless we arrive still at dusk. Moonlit nights (and cloudy, starry, hazy, foggy, etc. just any night) at the river were best for secret skinny dips and passionate kisses. Also currently all the rage was taking off all your clothes and a lot of bush shaking. But that's for another day.
On a soggier note, the river was also a place for meetings (romantic or not) and in some circumstances, goodbyes.
It was a place where ashes are scattered, with the hopes of lost souls finally able to see the world when they reach the ocean.
It was also the place XX met XY.
Both from different villages, XX was a maiden of seventeen, with hair of sunshine gold, and eyes of the bluest skies. Indeed she was a rather ravishing sight for sore eyes. Being slim and tall didn't hurt too.
XY was a piece of nineteen-year-old hunk. Black hair, green eyes and good physique to boot, it was not unusual that girls cry themselves to sleep over him at night. (Think Harry Potter, but better looking.) Anyway, it was only a matter of time before these two impossibly perfect beings find one another and experience the soul-shaking, earth-wreaking, electrifying, death-defying, know-that-he/she-must-be-the-one look. Better known to inferior mortals as love at first sight.
Anyway, usually you'd expect a lot of objections from either or maybe both sets of parents, or perhaps jealous bethroths and envious ex-girlfriends, all out for blood. And maybe after a few assassination attempts, or magic mumbo-jumbo that threatens to tear our lovebirds apart, they would decide to elope, settle down somewhere where nobody knows them, and regret the decision some years later (or months, possibly days. Depends on how similar the illusion is to reality.).
Or maybe 'unfortunate' accidents that lead to amnesia (real or fake, you decide), or loss of some important body part or parts, (depending on the creativity and level of saddisticism of the director) true love shall prevail. Or tragedy ensue...
Sorry to disappoint you, but you will find no such rubbish in this story. In fact, both sets of parents agreed fully to the union (perhaps blessing the passing on of good-looking genes in the family) and there were no fiances or exes to ruin the picture. Too good to be true?
Thought so myself.
So, one day, the polar ice caps melted due to extensive global warming, and low lying regions or coastal areas were swallowed up by the sea. Rivers swelled and rose to dangerous levels. The river aforementioned earlier was no exception. It spilled over the banks and flooded the villages, before subsiding a few months later, leaving villagers with a months of muck to clean. (frankly, I would've just moved.) However, even with the ebbing water levels, villagers of both villages were shocked to find out that what was once a rather shallow stream now became a raging monster. Currents swift and fast threaten to capsize any floating vessel stupid enough to try its waters, and even at the banks, the river was deep. Extremely deep. It was as if an ocean dropped in on them overnight.
The saddest part of it all was that XX and XY were now officially and very thoroughly separated. Each a small speck across the river, they could only sit on the banks each night and sing the songs of a broken heart.
Years passed. Decades flew by. Finally centuries drew close.
In the end, the two villages were separated not only physically but also genetically. Villagers from both villages had evolved apart, becoming a new subspecies to the human race.
The river was a place of extensive social activity. In the mornings it is the unofficial gathering of wives from both villages, as they head down to the stream to complete the daily scrubbing of dirty laundry and, not to mention, to talk about other people's dirty laundry too. But all in all, it's just a healthy dose of general gossip all around, and by the time the clothes are considerably clean, everyone would've known who's done what and who's done who.
On hot sunny afternoons, or basically most afternoons, really, come hail or storm, there'll always be diving champion wannabes, and a lot of snorkeling activity going on too. It was a place of pure innocent fun. And because the currents weren't strong and the river not quite so deep as to lose your footing, but deep enough for a cooling soak, children from both villages flock to the river like a swarm of flies to horse poo. Sorry for the rather distasteful metaphor, but you get what I mean.
Sunsets (and some sunrises) bring a different scene to mind, concerning the river. It now became a place to hold hands, for cuddles and general snogging amidst the setting sun (who said they were actually watching the sunset? It was more of mind-numbing, electrifying looks into the unfathomable depths of someone else's eyes, while hands take the opportunity to explore and wander to places they should not...).
While activites at the river become gradually less and less innocent as the day wears on, nevertheless we arrive still at dusk. Moonlit nights (and cloudy, starry, hazy, foggy, etc. just any night) at the river were best for secret skinny dips and passionate kisses. Also currently all the rage was taking off all your clothes and a lot of bush shaking. But that's for another day.
On a soggier note, the river was also a place for meetings (romantic or not) and in some circumstances, goodbyes.
It was a place where ashes are scattered, with the hopes of lost souls finally able to see the world when they reach the ocean.
It was also the place XX met XY.
Both from different villages, XX was a maiden of seventeen, with hair of sunshine gold, and eyes of the bluest skies. Indeed she was a rather ravishing sight for sore eyes. Being slim and tall didn't hurt too.
XY was a piece of nineteen-year-old hunk. Black hair, green eyes and good physique to boot, it was not unusual that girls cry themselves to sleep over him at night. (Think Harry Potter, but better looking.) Anyway, it was only a matter of time before these two impossibly perfect beings find one another and experience the soul-shaking, earth-wreaking, electrifying, death-defying, know-that-he/she-must-be-the-one look. Better known to inferior mortals as love at first sight.
Anyway, usually you'd expect a lot of objections from either or maybe both sets of parents, or perhaps jealous bethroths and envious ex-girlfriends, all out for blood. And maybe after a few assassination attempts, or magic mumbo-jumbo that threatens to tear our lovebirds apart, they would decide to elope, settle down somewhere where nobody knows them, and regret the decision some years later (or months, possibly days. Depends on how similar the illusion is to reality.).
Or maybe 'unfortunate' accidents that lead to amnesia (real or fake, you decide), or loss of some important body part or parts, (depending on the creativity and level of saddisticism of the director) true love shall prevail. Or tragedy ensue...
Sorry to disappoint you, but you will find no such rubbish in this story. In fact, both sets of parents agreed fully to the union (perhaps blessing the passing on of good-looking genes in the family) and there were no fiances or exes to ruin the picture. Too good to be true?
Thought so myself.
So, one day, the polar ice caps melted due to extensive global warming, and low lying regions or coastal areas were swallowed up by the sea. Rivers swelled and rose to dangerous levels. The river aforementioned earlier was no exception. It spilled over the banks and flooded the villages, before subsiding a few months later, leaving villagers with a months of muck to clean. (frankly, I would've just moved.) However, even with the ebbing water levels, villagers of both villages were shocked to find out that what was once a rather shallow stream now became a raging monster. Currents swift and fast threaten to capsize any floating vessel stupid enough to try its waters, and even at the banks, the river was deep. Extremely deep. It was as if an ocean dropped in on them overnight.
The saddest part of it all was that XX and XY were now officially and very thoroughly separated. Each a small speck across the river, they could only sit on the banks each night and sing the songs of a broken heart.
Years passed. Decades flew by. Finally centuries drew close.
In the end, the two villages were separated not only physically but also genetically. Villagers from both villages had evolved apart, becoming a new subspecies to the human race.
And they lived happily ever after, never again to interbreed.
love, joyce.
PS: A sequel? Romance between hybrids..sexually incompatibility: how to celebrate the ultimate expression of true love when you can't make love? I'll think of something...
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