Fragments of memory
Translated from the French by Vicky Baklessi
There no longer remained a trace of the master’s body. The rain had removed the blood. It was as if he hadn’t been dead. Yet witnesses had confirmed of having seen him at this location, right next to secular tree. Then suddenly nothing more. Time had come to find that which belong to it. The people of the village wouldn’t stop talking about this incident, in order to find a rational explanation but this was beyond human understanding. It was as if the legend of the master of time had been born. The vile beast had withdrawn itself from the water to invade the citadel of memory. Nothing more should remain on its passage. It crushed every resistance, even the slightest. It needed an example to terrorize the population and it had chosen this citadel with the reputation of being impregnable. It ripped with its own hands each one of its stones to make the route of the enslaved. The length of the route gave the measure of its magnitude. Only that the stones hadn’t told their last word. Inside the crypt, the effigies had taken their position as the master had predicted. They didn’t know yet how much time it would take even if it was with them. They were unarmed but that wasn’t of any importance because they were their own weapons. The master had taught them the mental battle and the strength they had in their hands had no common measure. Everything was a matter of thinking. Each of them was alone during the centuries but the others shared the same solitude. Their bodies espoused the stone to better cross through time. It was their sole mission. The codices had to be read by people that had not yet been born. These had been the master’s last instructions. Since then, they hadn’t seen the knight without armor again. He stood up after his first death. The stones were as hurtful as before but the people had changed. The passage therefore existed. Only how can one find it again within the black centuries? The tree was much bigger. It was majestic and dominated the entire square of the village. Children were running alongside holding galettes with sugar in hand. The vision had told the truth. The future was possible despite the vile beast. He examined the stones of the houses. Those were fine. They had refused to become cobbled. They preferred the freedom of the sky. They wanted to see the world of heights. However certain ones had been displaced. Now they had shape. He thought that it would be easier to find the sword with the strange hilt. And he had been right. It waited for him for centuries. The vile beast was not able to make it submit. It belonged only to time.