Κυριακή, 7 Οκτωβρίου 2012

A Fairytale - Παραμυθι χωρις ονομα



For the english version of the story, please scroll down the page




Μ'αρεσουν τα παραμυθια.

Κυριολεκτικα και μεταφορικα.

Μικρη εκανα συλλογη οπως αλλα κοριτσακια μαζευουνε κουκλες. 

''-Τι δωρο θελεις Ειρηνουλα για τη γιορτη σου? 
-Τη συλλογη με τα αφρικανικά παραμυθια που ειδαμε προχτες στο βιβλιοπωλειο''

ή αργοτερα

-''Αμα σας τα φερω ολα 20ρια στον ελεγχο ,θα μου αγορασετε την Ελληνικη Μυθολογια της Εκδοτικης Αθηνων?''

Τη μεγαλυτερη φαση ομως ειχε να φτιαχνω δικα μου παραμυθια, απιστευτους συνδιασμους της ζωηρης φατασιας ενος παιδιου που λατρευε να ζει μεσα στο κεφαλι του. Παραμυθια ιδιαιτερα δημοφιλη στα πολυαρθιμα ανηψια μου-εγινα θεια'- απο ξαδελφες στα οχτω κι απο αδερφη στα δωδεκα- που μου λενε οτι τα θυμουνται με νοσταλγια και εχουνε κρατησει και καποια,μαζι με την εικονογραφηση τους,αλλη πηγη  χαρας αυτη παλι.

Το ''Θεια, θα μας πεις ενα παραμυθι?' ειχε γινει η πιο αγαπημενη ατακα της οικογενειας μου, συνυφασμενη με τις πιο γλυκες κι αθωες αναμνησεις της εφηβειας μου στον καναπε της αδερφης μου, με τρια-τεσσερα ζευγαρια ματακια καθε φορα να κρεμονται απο την καθε μου λεξη.

Οπως γινεται παντα, οταν εφτασε η ωρα να πω στα δικα μου παιδια παραμυθια, ημουν τοσο εξαντλημενη-καμμενη απο τις αγγαρειες του  σπιτιου κι αργοτερα την επιχειρηση μου, ωστε που πια ορεξη να πλαθω ιστοριες. Φροντιζα ομως σε τακτικη βαση, καθημερινη σχεδον, να διαβαζω στους γιους μου πολλα και εκλεκτα βιβλια ολοκληρα για να τρεφουνε τη φαντασια τους οπως αλλοτε η μαμα τη δικη της.

Το παραμυθακι πιο κατω ειναι φορος τιμης στην θεια την καλη την παραμυθου του καποτε, που ακομα φτιαχνει παραμυθια μεσα στο αδιορθωτο κεφαλι της,ακομα ονειρευται πριγκιπες, βοσκοπουλες, δρακους και ξωτικα...



Μια φορα κι εναν καιρο, σε δυο διαφορετικα βασίλεια μακρινα, γεννηθηκανε, την ιδια ωρα και μερα,το ιδιο λεπτο-δευτερολεπτο, δυο μωρα,ενας πριγκιπας και μια πριγκιπισσα που μοιαζανε τοσο πολυ στην ψυχη,ωστε θα ορκιζοσουνα οτι οταν ο Πλατωνας εγραφε το μυθο του ερμαφροδιτου για το αρσενικο-θηλυκο που χωριστηκανε βιαια κι απο τοτε αποζητουνε το αλλο τους μισο,αυτους τους δυο ειχε στο μυαλο του.

Τα μωρα αυτα, οπως γινεται παντα στα παραμυθια, ητανε προικισμενα με πολλες χάρες-χαρές,το καμαρι των γονιων τους κι ολου του βασιλειου, βεβαιως- βεβαιως.

Οι τρεις καλες οι μοιρες που τους μοιρανανε με το που γεννηθηκανε το συζηταγανε μεταξυ τους για το ποσο πολυ μοιαζανε αυτοι οι δυο κι η πιο μικρη λεει:  

-''Δε θα'χε γουστο να ανταμωθουνε καποτε οι δυο τους και ν' αγαπηθουνε? Ταιριαζουνε τοσο πολυ!''

-''Δε γινεται,'' της λεει η πιο μεγαλη. ''Ξερεις οτι το γραμμενα δεν αλλαζουν. Ειναι γραφτο τους να παντρευτουν σε άλλα πριγκιπόσογα και να ζησουνε αυτοι καλα κι εμεις καλυτερα.''

'-'Ποτέ μα ποτέ δεν αλλαζουνε τα γραμμενα? ρωτησε σκεφτικα η μικρη.

-'Μονο αν γινοτανε δυο αλλοι ανθρωποι, διαφορετικοι απ'αυτο που γεννηθηκανε θα μπορουσανε να συναντηθουνε'', της απαντησε η αλλη.

-'Δυο αλλοι ανθρωποι'' ...μουρμουρισε η νεραιδουλα,που ξεχασα να σας πω οτι ητανε πολυ πεισματαρα κι αγυριστο κεφαλι κι αμα της εμπαινε μια ιδεα στο μυαλο δεν της ξεκολλαγε με τιποτα.

Ο καιρος περνουσε και ο πριγκιπας κι η πριγκιπεσσα μεγαλωνανε  στολισμενοι μ'ολες τις χάρες του καλου θεου, ομορφια, εξυπναδα, εφεση στη γνωση αλλα και καλωσυνη,πραγμα που εδενε ολα τα αλλα χαρισματα οπως το ακριβο μαργαριταρι  αναδυκυει τις υπολοιπες πολυτιμες πετρες σ ενα σπανιο κοσμημα.Και φυσικα,οπως συμβαινει με ολα τα προικισμενα πλασματα αυτου του κοσμου, ειχανε κι οι δυο τους μεγαλη ιδεα για τον εαυτο τους.

Η πριγκιπεσσα ειχε στα ποδια της κυκλο τους μνηστηρες , οι γονεις της, ολοι οι αυλικοι και το βασιλειο ολοκληρο της κανανε τεμεναδες κι ο αρραβωνιαστικος της, ο πριγκιπας που ειχε διαλεξει για συντροφο της, τη φορτωνε δωρα και θωπείες καθημερινα.Ολος αυτος ο λιβανωτος της κολακιας, ομως, ειχε αρχισει να βαραει την πριγκιπισσα στο κεφαλι και μια μερα-δεν ορκιζομαι οτι η καλη μικρουλα μοιρα δεν ειχε βαλει το χερακι της σ'αυτο- μια παραξενη ιδεα της καρφωθηκε στο μυαλο: '

''Aραγε ολοι αυτοι που πινουνε νερο στο ονομα μου θα μ'αγαπουσανε αν δεν ημουνα πριγκιπισσα? Αν δεν ημουν πνιγμενη στο χρυσαφι?Αν το δερμα μου δεν ητανε λευκο σαν φιλντισι και τα μαλλια μου χρυσαφενια σαν το λιναρι? Αν η φωνη μου δεν ητανε γλυκια σαν του κορυδαλλου?Θα συνεχιζανε να μ'αγαπανε αν δεν ημουν αυτο που ειμαι? Και η πιο ασημη χωριατοπουλα ειναι πιο τυχερη απο μενα, γιατι ξερει οτι την αγαπανε για κεινη και μονο, εγω ομως αυτο δε θα το μαθω ποτε''.

Να' σου μπροστα της η μοιρα-νεραιδα της.

-'Μπορεις να το μαθεις, της λεει,'' αλλα θα σου κοστισει πολυ πονο, πολλα δακρυα κι ισως ολοκληρη την παλια σου ζωη. Θα σε διαλυσει τοσο,που μπορει και να μην το αντεξεις. Απο την αλλη θα σε γιατρεψει απο την αρρωστεια της ματαιοδοξιας που αρχισε ηδη να διαβρωνει την ψυχη σου και θα μαθεις και ποιοι σ'αγαπανε γι'αυτο που πραγματικα εισαι, χωρις τα εξωτερικα φτιασιδια σου. Σκεψου το καλα, ειναι μια αποφαση χωρις γυρισμο.''

Κατι η καλη προαιρεση της, κατι ο αγγελος της που ηθελε το καλο της ψυχης της, η πριγκιπισσα το αποφασισε. Απο κεινη τη μερα αρχισε η παραξενη μεταμορφωση της. Το λευκο της δερμα αρχισε να μπλαβιζει, τα χρυσαφενια μαλλια της να παιρνουνε χρωμα μωβ,τα αστραφτερα ματια της να θολωνουν ωσπου αλλαξανε κι αυτα στο ιδιο μελανι χρωμα...με αλλα λογια, αργα αλλα σταθερα, η πριγκιπισσα μεταμορφωνοτανε σε ενα τερας της φυσης,θεαμα θλιβερο και παραξενο μαζι.....Παψανε τα χαρουμενα τραγουδια της ,το κεφι και η χαρα της γινανε κατατονία και μελαγχολία κι ειχε απομεινει πια η καημενουλα η σκια του παλιου της εαυτου.

Φυσικα οι γονεις της καλεσανε γιατρους απο ολα τα περατα της οικουμενης για να τη γιατρεψουνε, αλλα μετα απο λιγο ολοι σηκωσανε τα χερια ψηλα και παραδεχτηκανε πως τετοια ασθενεια ουτε την ξερανε και ουτε να τη γιατρεψουνε μπορουσανε. Απελπισια στο βασιλειο, μαυροφορεθηκανε μεχρι και οι τοιχοι. Ωσπου μια μερα στο παλατι εμφανιστηκε ενας παραξενος μαγος κι αφου κοιταξε για λιγο την πριγκιπισσα βαθια μεσα στα ματια, αποφανθηκε οτι μπορουσε, ναι, να τη γιατρεψει, αρκει να το ηθελε κι η ιδια. 

''-Και βεβαια το θελει! φωναξε η μητερα της.''

-'' Η αρρωστια της ειναι διαλεγμενη απο την ιδια,'' ξαναειπε ο μαγος, ''και χωρις τη συγκαταθεση της δε μπορω να τη γιατρεψω...''

-''Πες παιδι μου οτι θελεις να γιατρευτεις,'' της φωναξανε μ'ενα στομα οι γονεις της, ''πεστο και θα γινεις καλα!''

Η πριγκιπισσα κατεβασε το κεφαλι. '

-'Δηλαδη δε μ'αγαπατε οπως ειμαι? Αγαπουσατε μονο την ομορφη  εικονα μου;'' ρωτησε θλιμμενα.

Χαμος στο παλατι και σ'ολοκληρο το βασιλειο. Διαδωθηκε σαν αστραπη σ'ολη τη χωρα οτι η πριγκιπισσα αποφασισε απο μονη της,ακουσον, ακουσον,να γινει ενα ασχημο, καταθλιπτικο τερας, ενα φρικιο της φυσης! Κι οτι της αρεσει κι απο πανω που ειναι ετσι και δε θελει να ξαναγινει οπως παλια!

Πεσανε ολοι πανω της να της αλλαξουνε μυαλα. Οι γονεις της παρακαλεσανε, κλαψανε, ικετεψανε απειλησανε, βρισανε, την κλειδωσανε νηστικια, κανανε ευχελαια και μετανοιες,μαγικα και γαλιφιες, αλλα χαμενος κοπος. Ο αρραβωνιαστικος της ηρθε αφριζοντας και την κατηγορησε οτι τον ρεζιλευει, οτι ειναι ανισορροπη, ψυχακιας, να σοβαρευτει γρηγορα και να κοψει τις μαλακιες, αλλιως αυτος παιρνει το καπελακι του με το φτερο και φευγει, γιατι δεν του σηκωνεται, εννοειται, για μια μωβ τρελλεντζω κι ουτε και θελει τα παιδια του να γεννηθουν σε χρωμα φουξια και που ειναι επιτελους η γελαστη πριγκιπισσα που αγαπησε?

Μια μερα,κι ενω οι γονεις της τής ειπανε ορθα -κοφτα οτι την επαυριο θα την αποκληρωνανε, αν δεν αλλαζε γνωμη, κι ο αρραβωνιαστικος της δηλωσε οτι ηθελε να του δωσει πισω ολα μα ολα τα δωρα που της ειχε χαρισει -που να τα βρει; τα μισα τα ειχε χαρισει και τα αλλα μισα ουτε καν θυμοτανε τι τα εκανε- αλλιως θα τα απαιτουσε πισω νομικα και θα την εβαζε φυλακη μεχρι να του τα ξεπληρωσει, η μωβ πριγκιπισσα το'σκασε απο το παλατι κι αρχισε να τρεχει μ'ολη της τη δυναμη, μεχρι που δε τη βαστουσανε αλλο τα ποδια της κι επεσε κατω κι εκλαψε πικρα κι ευχηθηκε να πεθανει. 

Ωσπου σκοτεινιασε και στερεψανε πια και τα δακρυα και το πηρε κι αποφαση οτι δεν την αγαπουσε τελικα κανεις γι'αυτο που ητανε στ'αληθεια , αλλα αφου δεν τη θελανε πια κι αυτη τους ειχε ολους χεσμενους και θα'φευγε μακρια να γνωρισει τον κοσμο.

Κι ετσι ξεκινησε η περιπλανηση της μωβ πρωην πριγκιπισσας ,που τη μερα πουλουσε μηλα και καστανα και χορτα για να ζησει, με το προσωπο κρυμενο κατω απο σωρο κεφαλομάντηλα, ενω τη νυχτα, αχ, τη νυχτα, εκανε το μονο που της θυμιζε την παλια της ζωη στο παλατι: ανεβαινε στο δασος ψηλα σ'ενα λοφο και τραγουδουσε κι η ηχω της φωνης της αντηχουσε στα γυρω χωρια κι οι χριστιανοι σταυροκοπιοντουσαν και κλεινανε πορτοπαραθυρα γιατι βγηκε, λεγανε, παλι παγανιά το θλιμμενο αερικο, η μωβ νεράιδα του δασους.

Οσο για τον πριγκιπα,ουτε κι αυτον τον αφησε ησυχο το ατιμο νεραιδικό,η μικρη μοιρα της ιστοριας μας.  Μια μερα ενω καθοτανε μοναχος του και σκεφτοτανε οτι, γαμω το, ωραια η ζωη,αλλα που ειναι η πριγκιπισσα της ζωης του? καθε φορα που νομιζε πως τη βρηκε, του ξινιζε το ρυζογαλο μετα απο λιγο και δε του κανε πια κεφι να φαει...


Να' σου μπροστα του η μοιρα-νεραιδα του.

-''Αμα σε βοηθησω να τη βρεις τι μου δινεις?''

-''Fuck off, νεράιδα, την εχω βρει εκατο χιλιαδες φορες και θα τη βρω αλλες τοσες αμα γουσταρω''.

-'' Ειναι γραφτο σου να μην συναντηθειτε ποτε...ετσι λεει το ριζικο σας...μονο αν γινεις αλλος αθρωπος θα τη βρεις'''.

-''Μονο αν γινω αλλος ανθρωπος''...

Οχι οτι πιστεψε στις νεραιδομαλακιες της ο πριγκιπας, αλλα επειδη εκεινη τη μερα βαριοτανε του θανατά κι επειδη ειχε και πολυ ευστροφο μυαλο, του'δωσε η μοιρα μια καλη ιδεα, που την εκανε και πολυ κεφι: 

Για να διασκεδασει, αποφασισε να γινει 'αλλος' για μερικες ωρες. Μεταμφιεστηκε σε χωρικο και βγηκε στην πολη για να δει αν επειθε. Εκει να δεις πλακες κι αισθηση ελευθεριας! Το να μην εισαι πια ο πριγκιπας ειχε πολυ φαση, ασε που αξιοποιουσε και το υποκριτικο του ταλεντο. Και ηταν και απιστευτα εθιστικο. Την αλλη μερα το ξανακανε, και το ιδιο και την παράλλη κι ολες τις επομενες. Αρχισε να εναλασσει ρολους, γιατι το ανησυχο μυαλο του δε μπορουσε να μεινει για πολυ στο ιδιο σεναριο. Δοκιμασε ολες τις πιθανες εκδοχες που μπορεις να φανταστεις. 

Εζησε σαν αυλικος, σαν αγωγιατης,σαν κουτση πορνη, σαν γερο-μεθυστυακας,σαν εκλεπτυσμενος πουστης που μοσκοβολουσε ροδονερο,σαν αλογοκλεφτης της κακιας ωρας και σαν μιζερος φοροσυλλεκτης, σαν ρεμπελος ζεν-πρεμιε και σαν ατιθασση χωριατοπουλα, σαν συμβουλος του πριγκιπα και υπουργος οικονομικων παρα τω βασιλει, σαν πρωην καταδικος,σαν παμφτωχος ποιητης -βαρδος,σαν πανισχυρος αυτοκρατορας πασων των Ινδιών, σαν αρρωστος πληβειος και σαν εκλυτος γερο-παραλυμενος.

Εγινε εξπερ στις μεταμφιεσεις και τις εναλλαγες ρολων,εμαθε τα μυστικα του μεηκαπ και της ορθοφωνιας για να αλλαζει ομιλια , φωνη και προφορα κατα το δοκούν, η συλλογη του σε περουκες και στολές άφηνε καμια φορα αφωνο ακομα και τον ιδιο.

Φυσικα,υπηρχαν παντα καποιοι ρολοι αγαπημενοι, σ'αυτους ξαναγυριζε με ευχαριστηση ξανα και ξανα γιατι τον ψιλοεκφραζανε κιολας. Οπως ο ρολος του ιπποτη με την αστραφτερη πανωπλια, που ειχε απιστευτη περαση στα θηλυκα και χαρισε ομορφες στιγμες σε ουκ ολιγα απο αυτα. Ηταν κι ο ρολος του ιεροκηρυκα,που του επετρεπε να κοβει αντιδρασεις του λαουτζίκου αλλα και να περναει ιδεες, να μεταδιδει πιστη και ελπιδα. Ηταν κι αλλοι ρολοι πολλοι.

 Ελεγε στον εαυτο του οτι ετσι επιτελει κοινωνικο εργο και δεν ελεγε ψεμματα. Δεν ηταν λιγες οι φορες που σκορπισε απο το χρυσαφι του σε ταλαιπωρους, που ακουσε το μονολογο μοναχικων ετοιμοθανατων, τα τρελλα παραληρηματα ξεμπαρκων ψυχοπαθων, για να μη μιλησουμε και για ολες τις αγαμητες και στραβογαμημενες που βολεψε με μια απο τις αμετρητες ταυτοτητες του, αναλογα με το τι τραβουσε η ψυχη της καθεμιας. Σε ψυχολογουσε-αξιολογουσε,εντοπιζε τι ειχες αναγκη να ακουσεις ή να κάνεις και την επαυριο, τσουπ, παρουσιαζοτανε μπροστα σου σαν απο μηχανης  θεος. Συνηθως ομως θα σου εμφανιζοταν με ενα μονο ρολο καθε φορα, η εναλλαγη ταυτοτητων στο ιδιο ατομο ητανε επικινδυνη, αν ησουν αρκετα οξυδερκης θα μπορουσες να καταλαβεις οτι κατι τρεχει.

Κι οταν χορτασε περιπλανησεις και νομιζε πια οτι τα ειχε δει και ακουσει ολα κι οτι απο δω και περα η ζωη θα του σερβιριζε λιγο-πολυ επαναληψεις κι ενα απο τα ιδια, η ζωη αποφασισε να του σερβιρει την μωβ εξοστρακισμενη πριγκιπισσα. Πρωτα ακουσε φωνη και τραγουδι βραδυνο. Εψαξε την πηγη της φωνης, καθολου δυσκολο να την εντοπισει για καποιον με τα δικα του κυβικα  στο ξεγλύστριμα  και στο κρυφτουλι.

Δεν ηταν ομως η φωνη. Δεν ηταν ουτε και η μωβ μεταλλαξη, σημαδια οτι ειχε υποφερει.Απο πόνο δα, ειχε δει μπολικο ο πριγκιπας στις τρελλες περιπλανησεις του . Ουτε καν τα σημαδια της προτερης ομορφιας δεν τον συγκινησανε. Αυτα κι αν τα ειχε δει και γευτει ολα. Και ουτε, βεβαιως, η θλιβερη της ιστορια,που καιγοτανε αλλωστε κι αυτη να του τη διηγηθει, καθοτι ως θηλυκο,της εκανε καλο να την πει καπου. 

Ητανε η σπιθα της αναγνωρισης.

Το όμοιον της ψυχης.

Που την ειχε ψιλιαστει η μικρουλα η μοιρα που τους μοιρανε και που τωρα την εβλεπε κι αυτος καθαρα ιδιοις ομμασιν.

Δοκιμασε πρωτα να κανει τη γνωριμια του σαν ιπποτης με λαμπρη πανωπλια.Τι στο καλο, σταθερη αξια. Δεν πολυεπιασε, τον εδιωξε εν τελει, οι ιπποτες της θυμιζανε ολους αυτους που την κωλογλυφανε παλια και στο τελος την αποριψανε, αλλα ετσι τουλαχιστον ξεκινησε η ιστορια τους. Σαν ιεροκηρυκας ειχε καπως καλυτερη τυχη, αλλα και παλι η μωβ πρωην πριγκιπισσα κρατουσε αμυνες. Τα προσωπεια την τρομαζανε και της θυμιζανε ο,τι ψευτικο μισησε στην παλια της ζωη. Το ιδιο και τα παιχνιδια,που της φερνανε κατι προς υποκρισια και αναλήθεια.

Στο μεταξυ ο πριγκηπας με τα χιλια προσωpα γρηγορα ξεπερασε τον εαυτο του μαζι της και καταπατησε τις πιο βασικες αρχες του για χαρη της: αρχισε να ερχεται κοντα της ξανα και ξανα με πολλα και διαφορετικα προσωπεια: η καθε του μεταμφιαση, ο καθε πετυχημενος ρολος του κατεληγε να τον οδηγει αργα ή γρηγορα κοντα της. Ελεγε στον εαυτο του οτι την δοκιμαζε, ψυχολογουσε τις αντιδρασεις της, οτι εβλεπε τις προτιμησεις και απεχθειες της, τη στοφα απο την οποια ητανε φτιαγμενη. Η αληθεια ομως ειναι οτι μεσα απο τα προσωπεια του της αποκαλυπτε αργα αλλα σταθερα τον εαυτο του: καθε ρολος του κι ενα μικρο κομματι της ψυχης του.

Η μωβ πρωην πριγκιπισσα δεν ηξερε αν επρεπε να θυμωσει ή να κολακευτει απο τον θεοτρελλο που της ελαχε.

Απο τη μια οι μερες της ειχανε αποκτησει ξανα ομορφια και νοημα καθως δεν ηξερε καθε στιγμη πότε θα εμφανιζοτανε εκεινος και με ποια μορφη:  θα ηταν ο ταχυδρομος, ο γαλατας, ο τρελλος του χωριου ή ο προσωπικος της εξομολογος? ειχε γουστο να προσπαθει να τον ανακαλυψει καθε φορα και συνηθως τα καταφερε εκτος απο καποτε που, αναποφευκτα, μπερδευοτανε και ενοχοποιουσε απλα ανθρωπακια του Θεου περνώντας τα για κεινον. Ασε που ητανε κι απιστευτα ανακουφιστικο το να μη χρειαζεται να του κρυβει το μωβ δερμα της και την αρρωστη ψυχη της οπως ειχε συνηθισει να κανει, να αποφευγει τα ανελεητα ματια των περίεργων που τη βασανιζαν με τον οικτο ή τη μομφη τους.

Κι απο την αλλη, ποσο ταπεινωτικο για κεινη που του'χε δειξει τοση εμπιστοσυνη και τον ειχε βαλει στα άδυτα των αδύτων της ψυχης της να μην εχει δει ποτε το πραγματικο του προσωπο...δεν της εφτανε που ειχε υποφερει τοσο, επρεπε τωρα να παιζουν ετσι μαζι της? πως τολμουσανε? ηξερε  ποιος ηταν στ'αληθεια, επειδη ο πριγκιπας πεθαινε να τη δει να το βρει απο μονη της κι ετσι την αφησε γρηγορα να το ανακαλυψει διαισθητικα. Ομως το αληθινο του προσωπο δεν το'χε δει ποτε της κι αυτο την γεμιζε με μια τυφλη οργη που εναλασσοτανε με κρισεις απελπισιας και φυγης. Αδικος κοπος. Παντα την ξαναβρισκε και την γυριζε πισω κοντα του.

Κι η δικη του κατασταση ομως δε ητανε και η καλυτερη. Αρχισε να περναει ολο και περισσοτερο χρονο κοντα της κι οι αλλες του μεταμφιεσεις που του κανανε συνηθως τοσο κεφι μοιαζανε σταδιακα να χανουνε το λουστρο τους. Ηθελε να μενει μαζι της συνεχεια  κι οποτε δε μπορουσε την τραβαγε μαζι του σ'αλλον εναν απο τους ρολους του γιατι ηθελε τη ματια της πανω του διαρκως.

H πριγκιπισσα:

-''Πότε θα δω το αληθινο σου προσωπο?''

Ο πριγκιπας:

-''Αυριο''

Μα το αυριο ερχοτανε κι ο πριγκιπας, που  θυμοτανε τα λογια της καλομοιρας τους κι ηξερε οτι μονο σαν δυο αλλοι ανθρωποι απο αυτο που γεννηθηκανε ητανε γραφτο τους να αγαπηθουνε, ερχοτανε παλι με ακομη ενα προσωπειο....κι ενα φορτίο απο αγαπη και τρυφεροτητα και στοργη...που ειχε τοσο αναγκη να τα δωσει, οσο και η μωβ πρωην πριγκιπισσα να τα παρει....''


Το παραμυθια της η θεια Ειρηνη πολυ συχνα τα αφηνε μισοτελειωμενα και ζηταγε απο ανήψια κι ακροατηριο να τα τελειωσουν καταπώς  τους εκανε κεφι...

Το ιδιο θα κανει και τωρα, παρακαλωντας σας να βαλετε εσεις το πιο ταιριαστο τέλος στο παραμυθακι αυτο...ζηταει της ιδεες σας για εναν επιλογο ταιριαστο κι οποιος μιλησει περισσοτερο στην ψυχη της θα τον δειτε και γραμμενο εδω.

TO EKANE TO ΘΑΥΜΑ ΤΟΥ Ο ΝΙΚΟΣ O FELLOW BLOGGER! ΤΟ ΠΙΟ ΜΑΓΙΚΟ ΤΕΛΟΣ ΠΟΥ ΘΑΜΠΟΡΟΥΣΑ, η ΜΑΛΛΟΝ ΔΕ ΘΑ ΜΠΟΡΟΥΣΑ ΝΑ ΦΑΝΤΑΣΤΩ! ΔΙΑΒΑΣΤΕΤΟ ΕΔΩ








               Περιμενω με ανυπομονησια τα πονηματα της φαντασιας σας...

                                                         Ειρηνη


    ΥΓ: Αν σας αρεσουν τα παραμυθια,διαβαστε κι αλλο ενα εδω


                                    english version of story




I love fairy tales.

Literally and figuratively.

As a kid I used to collect fairy tale story books like other little girls collected dolls.

'' What would you like for your birthday Eirini?

-The collection of African tales we saw in the bookstore the other day''

or a few years ater

-'' If I get straight A's in my school report,  will you guys get me the Greek Mythology Collection Of Stories ?''

It was even more fun to put make up my own fairy tales,consisting of the wild phantasies of a most vivid imagination of a child that mostly lived in her head . My stories were especially popular with  my numerous nieces and nephews -I became an aunt at 8 from my cousins and at twelve frommy sister - and they still remember fondly and have even kept some of those story books of mine, along with their illustrations done by none other than the young author herself,said drawings being a great source of joy for me.

'Auntie, please tell us one of your stories' had come to be one of the most often repeated phrases in my family, linked for me with the most sweet and innocent memories of my teenage years, there on my sister's couch as three or four pairs of eyes were looking at me in wide eyed wonder hanging from my every word.

As is usually the case, when it was time for me to tell stories to my very own kids I was usually too exhausted from the drudgery of house chores or later from a hard day's work at my business to be in the mood for making up stories.However I would daily read to my sons from many story books in order to nourish their imagination as their mom used to nourish hers oce upo her childhood.

The following little story is a tribute to those tales of the good old auntie of those times who still makes up stories in that too-stubborn-to-grow-old head of hers,a head still full of shepherds and princes,dragons and fairies....



Once upon a time, in two different distant kingdoms, there were  two babies that were born at the exact same time and day, the same minute-second, a little prince and a little princess whose souls were so much alike you'd swear that when Plato wrote the myth of the hermaphrodite about the male-female spirit that was violetly split in two and since then have been seeking their other half, he must have had those two in mind.

These babies, as always is the case in fairy tales, were endowed with every talent and grace, the pride of their parents and the entire kingdom, by all means.

Now the three good fairies that gave them those talents upon birth would notice those striking similarities in said babies and discuss it among themselves and the youngest of the three said:

-'' Wouldn't it be great if those two met and fell in love some day! They are sooo well matched. ''

-''Not possible '' said the oldest. You know that what is written cannot be changed. They are meant to marry into other royal families and thus live happily ever after.''

''-So fate cannot be changed, ever? asked the young one again, lost in deep thought .

- "Only if they were two different people, different to those they were intially born, could they possibly meet,'' replied the other.

- 'Two different people ...'' contemplated the little fairy who, truth be told, was as stubborn as hell and if an idea entered her head there was no way she'd forget about it until she had it her own way.

Time passed and the Prince and the Princess grew up endowed with all graces that God bestowed upon them, namely beauty, brains,keeness for learning and kindness, which held together all the other talents, such as a rarediamond bids together all other precious stones in a priceless jewellery piece. Sadly, though, as is usually the case with all gifted creatures in this world, they both had too high an opinion of themselves.

The Princess had all those suitors kneeling in a semi-circle at her feet, her parents, all the courtiers and the entire kingdom doting on her and her fiancé, the prince she had chosen to be her husband showered her with gifts and affection daily All those poisonous fumes of false adoration, however, had begun getting into the Princess's head and one day- I could swear that good little fairy did have something to do with it-a strange idea occured to her: '

'' Supposing all those that swear in my name knew I wasn't a princess; If it wasn't for all my father's riches; If it wasnt for my skin which is pearl-like and if it wasnt for my hair which is flaxen-gold; if it wasn't for  my voice, sweet as a lark's; would they still love me if it wasnt for those things? Oh,even a milkmaid is luckier than me becauses she knows she is being loved  for who she is, but I am not ever to know if this is the case with me.''

Then the little fairy appears right before her eyes.

- 'You can find out, she told her,'' but it will cost you a lot of pain, many tears and perhaps your entire life as you now know it. This might tear you apart and you might even not be able to stand it. On the other had it could heal you from the poison of vanity that has already started eroding your soul and you will know for sure who loves you for what you really are, without your external garnish. Think about it well, for once it begins it is a one way road.''

Because her heart was made of good stuff and with a little help from her angel who loved her dearly, the princess' soul conceded to go through the test. From that day on a strange transformation began to creep upon the princess' entire self. Her white skin began to take a bruise-like hue, her golden hair turned purple, her gleaming eyes lost their luster and took the colour of dark ink... in other words, slowly but inexorably, the princess was turning into a freak of nature, a very sad and strange sight to behold  ..... No longer would her cheerful songs echo throughout the palace and her fun-loving and sunny disposition was replaced by melancholy and depression, until the poor thing was reduced into a shadow of her former self.

Naturally her parents called in the best doctors from all ends of the earth to cure her, but after a while they would shake their heads and admit that such an illness was uknown to them and therefore could  not be cured. Despair befell upon the Kingdom, everyone was in mourning. Until one day there appeared a strange magician in the palace that stared deep into the princess' eyes and claimed that, yes, she could be cured  as long as she ,the princess, would wish it to be so.

''-Of course she does! cried her mother.''

-'' That illness is self- chosen ,'' reported the magician,'' so without her consent it cannot be cured ...''

-'' Tell him, love, that you wish to be cured,'' cried both her parents,''  say it so that everything may be well again!''

The princess lowered her head. '

- 'Then you do not love me as I am; You only loved that beautiful external picture me?'' she asked with a heavy heart.

Turmoil in the palace and all over the kingdom. News spread like wildfire across the country that the princess had chose it herself, woe begone, to become an ugly, depressed monster, a freak of nature! And not just that but she liked more herself in this way and moreover she wished to be her old self again!

Combined efforts were made to make her change her mind. Her parents begged, cried, implored,  threatened, swore at her, locked her up, let her go hugry, knelt and prayed and used up every kind of trickery or manipulation in a vain effort to make her give in. Her fiancé came raging and humiliated her and accused her of being a psycho,of making a fool of himself, asked her to get a grip of herself and cut the crap, otherwise he would just take his leave; that he just couldn't get a hard-on for a crazy purple freak, besides he wouldn't wish for his children to be born fuchsia-colored and what the hell had she done to his good ol' smiling princess?

One day, when her parents told her curtly that the very next day she would be disowned if she did not change her mind, and her fiancé stated that he demanded back all the gifts he had given her -impossible to find ; half of them she had given away and the other half she did not even remember what she did with- otherwise he would take legal action and put her in prison until she paid him back, the purple princess ran away from the palace and began running as fast as she could, until her legs gave in and she fell down and wept bitterly and wished to die.

Then it was dark  and she had hardly any tears left so she accepted the fact than nobody really loved her for herself but that was ok ,fine, they could go fuck themselves, she wouldn't give a shit from now on and she would go see the world.

And thus began the wanderings of the purple ex princess, who sold apples and chestnuts to earn a living, her face hidden under loads of headscarves while at night, ah, at night she would do the only thing that reminded her of her old life in the palace: she'd climb up a hillside in the woods singing her heart out and the sound of her haunting voice echoing in the surrounding villages would spread unease among country folk who'd cross themselves and close shutters because hark! there she was again,  the purple enchanted creature of the woods.


As for the prince, you don't suppose the little conniving fairy of our story left him to his own devices, do you. One day while he was sitting on his own and contemplating that, fuck, life was great, but where is the princess of his dreams? Every time we thought he had found her, the whole thing went sour after a while, leaving him nauseous and uninterested and hungry again  ...


Now here comes the little fairy again.

-'' A penny for your thoughts, or rather how much will I get if I help you find her?''

-'' Fuck off, fairie, I have found her a hundred thousand times and I can find her as many more as I wish .''

-'' Your fate dictates that you two shall  never meet ... unless...unless you become two different people..''

-'' Unless you become two different people..'''' ...

Not that the prince believed in all that fairy nonsense, but because on that particular day he was bored and because he was too ingenious to pass on a chance for having a good time, he conceived a plan that sounded like fun.

He decided to become 'a different person' for a few hours, so he disguised himself as a peasant and went into town to see if he was convincing enough. Now that was loads of fun, not to mention the sense of freedom he experieced! Plus he made good use of his natural acting talent. And it was incredibly addictive. The next day he did the same thing, and so did the next and the one after that. He began to change roles because his restless mind could not stay too long in the same scenario. And so he tried all the possible scenarios that could be imagined.

He lived like a courtier, like mule driver, lame whore, like an old drunk or a sophisticated fag who smelled of  rosewater, a horsethief  and a misery taxcollector, and a wild coutry girl, an adviser to the Prince and Minister of Finance, theking's attache, a ex-convict,  a poor-as-dirt poet-bard, l a powerful emperor of the Indies, a poor old fart or a sinister monk.

He became an expert in disguise and role-playing, learned the secrets of makeup
 and elocution to be able to change manner of speech, voice and accent at will  and his vast collection of wigs and costumes would leave speechless anyone that might behold them.

Of course, there were always some roles that remained favorites, the ones he returned to with pleasure again and again because they resonated with parts of himself. Such as the role of the Knight in the Shining Armor who was incredibly popular with females and helped him to get laid to his heart's content and leave them with many happy memories.Or the role of the Preacher, which enabled him to gauge public opinion and to pass on his very radical ideas, to pass o faith and hope. And many other roles, in fact too many to mention here.

 He said to himself that he was a social worker that combined work and play. Many a times did he disperse his gold to the suffering,  heard the monologue of dying lonely souls, the crazy ravings of schychotic old maids nobody would talk to, not to  mention all those ulnoved ones whose beds he ket warm many a night adopting the role she'd feel the most comfortable with. He'd identify and evaluate what you needed to hear or do, the very next day, lo! behold, he was at your doorstep like a deus ex machina. But usually he would only appear in just one role per person, switching identities with the same individual was dangerous, if they were perceptive enough they'd realise that something was amiss.

When he felt too satiated to go on anymore and thought that he had seen and heard it all, and that from now on it would be just rerus of the same old shows ,life decided to serve him the ostracized purple princess. First he heard the voice and the nightly songs.  He identified the source of the voice, not difficult to locate for someone of his calibre and with his years of experience in hide and seek.

It was not the voice. Nor was it because of the purple mutations, the signs of her sufferig.Sure enough he had experienced his fair share of human pain during all his mad wanderings. Not even the signs of past beauty stirred his emotions, for he had seen ,tasted ande xperieced too much of it to be impressed. And nor, of course, was it because of her sad stories, which she was dying to tell him ayway, tell anyone,being a true female herself.

What did it for him was the spark of recognition.

The 'Alikeness' the Soul.

Which the little fairy had suspected of and which he could now see evidence in front of his very own eyes.

First he tried to make his acquaintance with her as the Knight in the Shining Armor.What the fuck, it was a tried and tested recipe. Didn't have much of a success though, she kicked him out eventually, knights reminded her of all the worthless assholes that would first flatter her then reject her, but at least that's how their story began. As a preacher he had somewhat better luck, but again the former princess held her ground. Masks scared her and reminded  her of all that was fake in her former life. So did games that smacked of hypocrisy and fakeness.

Meanwhile the prince with the thousant faces quickly outdid himself and broke his most basic principles for her sake : he began to return back to her time after time in many different guises: each disguise, each successful new role of his, ended up leading him to her side sooner or later. He said to himself that he was testing her, gauging her reactions, finding out about her preferences, likes and dislikes, the very fabric  which she was made of. But the truth of the matter was that through his many faces he would slowly but steadily reveal himself to her: each role of his would open a window into his soul for her.

The purple exprincess did not know if she should be angry or flattered with all this craziness.

On the one side her days were filled again with beauty and meaning as she was trying to guess what he would be up to next, how he'd appear to her and in what form: would it be the postman, the milkman, the lunatic of the village or her very own personal confessor? by instinct she could of course see through his disguises but it was fun trying to guess each time or even to incriminate innocent passersby, thinking it was him again. Not to metion how incredibly comfortable she felt in his presence, not having to hide her purple skin and her sick soul as she was accustomed of doing with other people, to avoid the merciless eyes of the curious who either pitied her or condemned her.

On the other side, how humiliating for her who had led him into the very sacred sanctuary of her soul not to be able to see his real face... wasn't it enough that she had suffered so much, she now had to be made a plaything of? How dare he? She knew  his real idetity, because the prince was dying to see her finding out herself, so she intuitevely did find out. But his true face she had never seen and that filled her with blind rage that would make her flee from him i amost predictable intervals. No use. He'd track her down and come back to her in one disguise or another.

The prince's own situation was not the best either. He began to spend more and more time by her side and most of his other roles and disguises no longer appealed to him. He wanted to stay with her night and day and whenever he could not help it and had to go in one of his escapedes he would drag her along because he needed her eyes constantly on him.

The princess:

-'' When will I see your true face;''

The Prince:

-'' Tomorrow''

But tomorrow came and the prince, remembering the words of their good fairy, knowing that only as two people differet to the ones they used to be they were meant to be together, would come back to her in yet another mask .... and a load of love and affection and tenderness ... that he was in  such a sore need to give as she was sorely in need to receive...




Now aunt Eirini's tales were  often leaft unfinished and her nieces ad nephews had to supply their ow edings to it.Same as now that I'll be askig you to provide your very own ending to this story.
Dont by shy!
Please be imaginative and bold and a child again and tell me your very own version of how the story should end. The one that will appeal to my soul the most will be posted here.


Nick the blogger did it again!what an awsome ending he wrote! The greek version of it is here

Of course, I had to translate it for you:

One night the princess could stand it no more ,she would rather lose him forever if ishe wasnever to really know him. The voice of her anger that nested within her and which she did not know she had in her grewso strong that wasfinaly voiced.She got up from his lap and took a few stepsaway from him. This time she did not look into his eyesShe staredat the moonwhich was nearly lost in the fog of the winter night.

"I want you to decide if you want to be with me, or with yourself."

"With you of course" he replied immediately. "can't you see that I have decided long ago?"

She wanted to look him in the eyes to respond. She knew, however, that if she did that her courage wouldfail her. For once, she had to be stronger than her addiction for him. She kept her eyes on the small piece of the moon that was left shining in theblack sky. She hoped to have time to speak before the last glow of the moon was lost in the great darkness.

"No, you have not decided that you want to be with me. You want to, but you have not reached a decision yet, "she said, and waited to see if the prince would be quick to deny. But he did not speak at all. Just listened.

The woman looked at him anxiously, as a tiny piece of the moon struggled to keep glowing against the darkness that swallowed it quickly.

"Tomorrow night I'll be waiting for you here. I want you to come. You. I do not expect to meet either your mind or your imagination. I am waiting to meet you. If I find you, then WE deserve to be together. If someone ELSEcomes back to me, I'll send him away and then leave this place. "

The prince did not respond. He did not give any sign of whether he agreed or not . His footsteps echoed on the hard ground. The last moonlight disappeared completely in the cold darkness. The footsteps sounded increasingly distant A few seconds later, he was lost in the night. The princess immediately closed her eyes, still gazing at the sky.She lay on the ground and slept.


The morning morning everything seemed too quiet. The birds werenot singing, the wind does not touch lightly upon leaves and twigs as usual and the birds did not chirp as usual She was in a state of calm yet agitated expectancy. Agitated  because ishe wasafraid of what the night would bring, but also calm because, in one way or another, the pain would end.

The evening arrived. The thick clouds of the sky hid the moonlight, a very weak moon that hardly made its presence felt. Everything seemed blurry eyed. It difficult to discern the leaves from the trees becauseof thethicknight fog.

She could not even gauge the passing of the time, whether it was time to meet her prince or not. But before she has lost her cool, she heard anoise from afar. Grass beig stepped on and heavy steps n  the ground. In vain did she try to follow the noise. Shee felt disoriented. Simply stood still in the hope that, if he was indeed the prince, he would find her.

And, indeed, a misty figure appeared be The breathing of the figure sounded familiar, but his body was covered from top to bottom in a black robe with a hood, as the monks. The princess watched and waited. If it was him, then it was his turn to speak.


''The figure dressed in black held out his hands.In his hands he was clutching a black cloth that was hiding something underneath it. 

 She could sense the fear of the figure. It was like the fear of a child trying to grow up.

She raised his hand to unveil the unknown object. Once her fingers touched the black cloth, the figure spoke, and she she kept her hand still.

"The person behind the disguises is not the true me."

The princess tried to distinguish a feature of the face, but what was not hidden by clothing was too dark for her to discern .

"Under the cloth I am  hiding my heart that was born out of my body since birth," he said, and although his voice was calm, fear was becoming more obvious to the ears of the Princess.

"If you want to see me as I really am, you will need to hold my heart in your hands and bring it close to my face."

The thought of it did not disgust he princess. A quick little smile crept on her face. Trully, the pain would end. The truth in his voice was most obvious. The prince was afraid to give his heart, thats why he was reluctant to ever show his real face. And he was afraid to show his real face, because that would mean giving his heart.

The woman smiled again, with the warmest smile that could be found in the world and with a few words took the fear out of it.

"I will  be watching and guarding your heart as a sacred body. You came tonight to meet me. I now come to offer you my heart. Even if you cannot  keep it in your hands. I love you. "

He pushed her fingers and lifted the cloth. A golden heart appeared, emitting light surrounding it. Without hesitation, she  took it in her hands and brought it close to his face.

The heart lit up his face nd happiness filled the woman. She grabbed him and kissed him happily with all her might. Just when she llet him take a breath, he tookher in her arms.

"I love you," he said, tears tremblig in his voice.
 "I promise to look after your heart more than my own. Thank you, "said the man.

The woman could now clearly see the landscape around her. Listening to the river water, the rustling of leaves and the voices of birds/ It was nighti,e, but all was now clear to her eyes and ears. Raindrops hit their faces. They started running as heavy rain started falling.

They spent several years hiding from the world, lost in their happiness, absorbed in each other. 

The little fairy who first arranged their meeting was present at the births of all their children and blessed them as she did with their parents. People called them "The purple Princess and the Prince with the100 faces '. The princess held the heart of her husband with her forever, hanging in a pouch with a chain around her neck. And every time he came close to her, his heart shed light to his face. And every time she saw his face, she loved him een more.

And at the end of their days, the  Princess and the  Prince squeezed firmly the golden heart and broke it in twoi. White glow enveloped them and took them from this world, sending them to heaven. Since then, the purple and gold star, are eternally rotating around each other,  sending us their heavenly light all over the world.



                  Looking forward to your ideas

                                        Εirini


                  PS: If you liked this, here's another story to enjoy from this bog

                                           

1 σχόλιο:

  1. Προσπάθησα να βάλω εδώ το τέλος που έγραψα αλλά δε χωρούσε :P

    Οπότε, ιδού!
    http://kosmosyria.gr/Stories/ParamithiXorisOnomaTelos.html

    ΑπάντησηΔιαγραφή

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