Deathnotes: Diary of a Ghost
By Nova Solis
()
About this ebook
As a creator of something you believe in, you are perhaps entitled to define your work--to convey somehow, the purpose of putting these words together in a span of unending, restless days and sleepless nights--to give a meaning to the words that you have loved, hated, banished and then rejoiced--all at the same time. You start with a purpose of course, but then lose your way, and groping, fumbling in the darkness, you finally reach the shore. Now, you have a choice. You can either forgo the dark shadows and claim the brightness of the shore you wake into--or, you choose to embrace the darkness that guided you unintentionally to the vividness of an alien shore. As a writer, I choose the darkness, not because I deny the brightness but because I know and believe that it's in that darkness, your words have evolved--in that dimensionless void...
Nova Solis
Nova Solis (August 20, 1989) was brought up in a middle-class family, midst fierce academic expectations of his parents. Not surprisingly, he emerged as a bright kid and finished high school with excellent grades. But the futile chase of academic excellence had instilled inside him a kindling fire of rebellion. At 22, disillusioned with his career in Physics and with the education system in general, he dropped out of his university to pursue a career in writing. The following years, he worked as a freelance copywriter and ghostwriter. Nova Solis loves to write on the nature of existence and various aspects of human life. He loves to trek and is also an avid blogger (novasolis.blogspot.com)
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Deathnotes - Nova Solis
~Deathnotes~
Diary of a Ghost
by
Nova Solis
Smashwords Edition
‘’ Do shadows have shadows?
lurking in the darkness…
slithering, fumbling
the invisible path of absolution. ‘’
—to nothing and everything—
Copyright 2012 Nova Solis
Smashwords Edition Licence Notes
This ebook is licensed for personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for your support.
THE TREE OF LIFE
PROLOGUE
Chapter 1— THE SHADOW OF THE SHADOWS
Chapter 2—THE LIMBO
Chapter 3—THE OUTCAST
Chapter 4—A DREAM
Chapter 5—INTO THE MIST
Chapter 6—THE CONVERSATION
Chapter 7—THE MYSTERIOUS ONE
Chapter 8—DÉJÀ VU
Chapter 9—THE UNDYING MUSIC
PROLOGUE
Words I had left far behind follow me like my shadow. I am nothing but a shadow myself but they find their way through the darkest alleys, shadowing my invisible footsteps. I feel betrayed, my silence stolen, my salvation denied. Yet they are the only means, except the silence that surrounds me—the only testimony to a forbidden journey in time.
The trailing breadcrumbs of a life left behind shining in the moonlight, defying timeless boundaries, how senseless of me to have left these clues behind? It’s me—I lured them to my salvation and now they dance in grotesque ecstasy whispering into the resounding echoes of death, ruining my ritual of eternal silence. They skulk inside me, break into my secret chambers and feed on my dreams.
I know they are mere shadows—the shadows of a shadow but I can’t own them now. I know their cunning little plans, their sneaking, whisperings and the precarious gifts they cajole me with—gift of greatness, rising above the frivolous boundaries of mortal life. What they don’t realize is that there are no such things called boundaries, that phantom wanderers don’t have a home… that there is no end to a beginning and no beginning of an end. Nothing is true; it’s just the light at the end of a tunnel—a blinding light that is nowhere but everywhere, nothing but everything.
Chapter 1
SHADOW OF THE SHADOWS
Waiting for death is a sad business. Let death come sudden, uninvited and you never have to think about it. You just die without a gap, without the realization that your actions are now meaningless and you have nothing more to do, utter helplessness, absolute freedom… Of course, if you are inclined towards the passage to heaven, you might then be pondering on your odds of landing in hell. My death however was devoid of these flourishes. No waiting in silent contemplation, no flowers to adorn the deathbed, no dreams of heaven or nightmares of hell.
A morning of some month, clear and bright enough for a normal person to open his eyes wide and admire the clear orange sky with signs of a bright day ahead, newspaper on one hand, the other fondling the handle of a teacup. But what is beauty to someone who refuses to open his eyes? What is beauty which is not going to last forever? As bright orange light flooded through the curtains, I was wakening into a different reality where beauty was not a mere feast to the eyes. Beauty was the lack of beauty, devoid of its need. This helpless sentence has lost its meaning now, beneath the veils of logic that every human mind