(Short Story -XXV.) *Stones of Heaven*

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Forgotten Dreams of Eternity: Lost Odyssey: Thousand Years of Dreams

Copyright © 2011 Sky_Knight

(Short Story -XXV.)

*Stones of Heaven*

The waterfall lies deep in the forest, more than a day's travel from the nearest village.

It is said to be a holy place.

In search of the divine amid the towering peaks, pilgrims stand beneath the plunging falls in their final ascetic practise.

The water of the falls is freezing cold.

All it takes is a momentary lapse of concentration, and the person is hammered down by the rushing water.

The pilgrims call this waterfall the Stones of Heaven.

Heaven is testing their mental and physical strength, they say, by hurling an endless stream of "stones" down upon them in the form of the powerful waterfall.

"And the stones have a mysterious power," a former pilgrim says to Kaim with a pained smile. He himself failed in this final austerity, he adds.

"Different Stones of Heaven fall on each person. It's as if they can see into your heart."

"What do you mean?" Kaim asks.

"The burdens you bore and the dreams you dreamed in the secular world appear to you one after another."

In his own case, he says, what came to him first were the voices of women.

"The water plunging down into the basin of the falls began to sound like women's voices. Sweet voices whispering in my ear, voices sobbing, voices moaning in a lover's embrace... an incredible variety. And for better or worse I knew every single one of them. Some I was thrilled to hear again, while others I hated remembering."

"Meaning, you've gotten yourself into a lot of trouble involving women?"

"I have indeed. Not to boast or anything, but that was one battlefield I knew better than anybody. I survived, but I made a lot of women cry, and there were a lot of them I loved. My whole purpose in undertaking the austerities was to put that life behind me, but the Stones of Heaven know what they're doing. In the final, final test, they go after your greatest weakness. If you waver the slightest bit, you've had it. The water slams you down, and your austerities are over."

The man feeds a stick of kindling into the campfire.

"And I'm not the only one," he continues.

"One fellow heard the voice of the mother he hadn't seen since he was a little boy; another heard the voice of his dead child."

"Is it always voices?"

"I wish it were. If you hold up through the voices, the waterfall's mist starts changing into the shapes of people. You might see somebody who you hated so much in the secular world that you wanted to kill him, or it might be some loan shark you had to go into hiding to get away from.

One little flinch and you're done for."

This particular austerity can be performed only once. There are no second chances.

Someone who has persevered for a whole day and night but who fails in the end has no choice but to return to the secular world in defeat, as this man did.

"Not that it was easy for me to get on my feet again once I was back there, either."

The man chuckles and calls out to a young pilgrim. Or, more precisely, to a young man who was a pilgrim until a few moments ago, but who has just now dragged himself up to the lip of the basin in utter dejection.

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