Star Flowers - part II

Hope you'll read it (and hope you'll like it)

Star Flowers II

I was born in really beautiful elvish land. It's separated from people by the high, always snow-covered mountains. It's full of grass and flowers. There are wild forests on the shores of our land. They like us, because we don't hurt the trees, and we burn only the dead ones.

We love and respect nature in our land. We build houses from stone or we live on the trees, we can eat all the fruits and drink water from every stream, because it's clean. Animals are our friends and we give life to trees to walk and to talk to us and to defend the forests against the greedy people. They come closer and closer. They've forgotten about us for long years, and it was beutiful time, full of joy, illuminated by starlight. Fianally they recalled us, but they didn't belive in us, and we lived for them only in fairytales.

Then they wanted to possess our treasure, that we've never had and our lands, that we've never possessed. They reached us during the day, when we were hiding in forest.

Elves don't like sun, they prefer starlight so they leave forests and houses during the night. We never sleep, but we rest before night, which is for us like day for people.

They came to our villages with weapon. But we were still stronger than them - strong, clever, immortal. We don't sleep, don't want to collect wealth. We're completly different from people.

We didn't kill them, hurt only, and we let them go back to their lands. We hoped they'll never come back. Unfortunately, we didn't know people, or rather we knew people many years ago. And many years ago they weren't vindictive or tempered, they weren't full of anger or bitterness and their minds weren't poisoned by the desire for material goods. People came back in more than before and defeated us. Some of us ran away, but the most was taken to human lands, called countries. It wasn't the only hunting and elves had to leave home, cut their hair, put on human clothes and mix with their torturers. They wanted to rescue their brothers, but they usually were enslaved then too.

Elves married people to be safe, but even then neither they or their children were completly safe. Many people knew they're somewhere in the town. They reveal their families, sold their own children at the fairs. It was terrible time; most elves died then. Slavery is dangerous for elves, because they die if they lose interest in life or forget about their homeland or brothers.

We die when we don't want to live anymore. And we belive that we'll all meet after death in the land of green fields, forests and moutains, in which we'll be safe, because there will be no people.In those lands time doesn't matter, so years of our brothers' lifes pass in a few moments and then we're together. Everyone.

The worst in captivity was that I lived. I could live seeing my brothers on the streets, knowing that even though unhappy, they are still alive. And then, after many years, during which we grew in anger, longing for home and diminished hope for freedom, elves trade became restricted. They recognized us as dead. Then traders introduced the black market in which they sold crippled creatures that should look like people. From the glare of the sun, our eyes went pale. Our hair, cut short, once long and in all colors became gray and dull, lifeless. Our distinctive ears were cut to look like human’s, but for we were still able to hear. Our skin darkened from the sun, hands scuffed from work when we bore burdens with narrowed eyes. We were detained in cramped wooden cages, so nights that we've always loved became torture. We did not see the stars and we could not communicate with our brothers even by thoughts. And the wounded trees groaned around us, begging for death. We were told to eat crushed plants, whole, not only their fruits, which plants sacrifice for us as food. But the worst part was the meat. We were told to eat animals that we loved, that were equal to us, that we respected in our homeland. We cried by many tears of helplessness, but our flowers died without starlight. Over the years, our eyes have dried up and our tears were not able to bring star flowers alive anymore. Many decades we survived in cramped cages, living just because others have lived.

Later they released us and they gave us to people. As if we were objects. Although people abhorred touching us, they viewed us and selected the strongest. We were, however, too weak to stand up and resistance them.

We had to work for them, at the beck and call. At the command we laughed and we cried, we worked and we were beaten, permitted to be pushed around and punished for being elves. We hated people and we could not forgive them that they made us feeling hate. We felt sorry for them as well, deplored their stupidity and ignorance, but we were not able to break free. And when hope began to die, and the last elves with it, like a light in a tunnel there appeared stars.

For brief moments we were relocated to our lands and we were together again.

We met in the fields, like ghosts; thoughts of the living and memories of the dead. Fields flashed hundreds of flowers, trees surrounded us desiring our company, and the animals came out of the forest and rub against our immaterial hands. Our faces paled and smoothed, the hair grew back, our eyes began to shine and opened widely, absorbing starlight. Ears turned out to be whole and undamaged. Hope joined in our hearts. There was new eternity after eternity of captivity. We wanted to get away. We started to make plans and although sad everyday came with the sunrise, we – dirty and mutilated – were regaining strength. That was true what Kigus wrote about us: our physical strength comes from the strength of the interior, the mind, the hope and the pure heart. If there is something we belive in, we become invulnerable, insurmountable. We feed with starlight, we feed our hearts by it, our souls and our minds, we revive our night flowers by it.  

We became warm, alive. Every night we were together. We revived our stories, we recollected our names, we regained faith.

My story goes on. I’m waiting for the night, trying to survive the day and dreaming of the time I will return home. For the first time in hundreds of years, millions of days I believe in freedom.