Hedona Chapter 3 - The Voice that Sought Silence
#3 of Hedona
There exists a book, supposedly written by a person who found the forgotten city of Hedona. Could it be the key to finding paradise? Who was the author, and who might the person reading it be?
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Chapter III
The Voice that Sought Silence
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'My family always uttered those words to me, that I was special, that there was only one me. Yet whenever the wind and birds fell silent and left me alone with my thoughts, the beliefs in my head would speak to me. They told me of the secrets of this world, of the endless cycle that tormented the souls of both living and dead, of the malign demons that emigrated from their wretched spaces into ours, things I never wished to hear. The voice in my head told me I was not special.
The spirit in my mind proved me right. I woke up one day, possessed by the spirit who had entirely taken over my body. He had spoken to my parents, stolen my very own lips and body to move as I slept. They had not noticed the difference. The more the spirit drowned my own inner voice, the closer I came to forgetting which thoughts were mine. As his seemingly omniscient knowledge weighed on my conscience, I wanted to run, but just like with my own shadow, I could only escape it by plunging myself into darkness. There was however one divulged secret that I held onto, of an ancient city, defiled yet pure. Hedona was her name. If I only could follow the trail to it I could fill my mind with such pleasures, so strong that not even this schizophrenic malady could withstand.
With music, drugs and other blissful tricks I have learned how to ignore this wraith in my mind. But it never allows me to rejoice for long. I have left my home long ago, speaking not a word of farewell to those that I used to know. I have followed the perpetual stream of the Rhonesian river, to the unknown wilds in the south, where no country nor guild has yet dared to step in the pursuit of exploration.
The jungle is thick, it is no surprise that no one would have found Hedona in this terrain. Each time I stare into the camp-fire I hear the sirens calling from the night. Their heavenly promises echo in my mind. I can already feel my anticipation strike my second voice down. This notebook has kept my thoughts assembled for long enough. It has served its purpose and I will leave it behind as I push onward. In Hedona I can forget everything. In Hedona I won't need to think anymore. In Hedona I will not need anything anymore.'
A pair of chestnut-colored eyes reached the text's ominous end. The author's signature sat in the corner of the cover with a wavy style, Demira Amberus. With a sigh the reading man closed the worn-out notebook. The deer leaned over the bar, resting his heavy thinking globe on his hand, like a prized jewel on a pedestal. His eyes stared into the wall, his mind so distant that he might as well have looked over the horizon. "Where did you go Demira?"