There’s night I would die for a story. Any story would be fine. I’ll be OK with any words, I just want them to be alive. I want a story. Just a story. Please, someone ?
_So she’s walking on a forest
_Which forest ?
_You can’t tell a story in any forest or it would be any story
_Who told you it wasn’t any story ?
_’Cause SHE’s walking. And it’s her. It can’t be any girl.
_So do you want to choose the forest yourself ?
_This forest ?
_This one or another, whatever. She was walking in this forest. It was cold and dark because it’s the way of life of any forest in any good story.
_And this is a good story ?
_Well, if it wasn’t a good story it would not worth to write it down.
_But some people do write down bad stories.
_They don’t write them down.
_What do they do ?
_They dig stories out of graves.
_Which graves ?
_The first they find. They don’t look for something in particuliar. They don’t look for anything. They fall into graves, find some garbage and think they could do something with it outside. They think they’re clever because they found something old and forbiden. But they forget the easy way of life you learn when you’re just a child : don’t play with your food, don’t burn book, don’t touch the dead it’s dirty.
_Yeah, my mom always told me not to feed myself with dead book.
_Everyone know that. Those who do not know that dig out dead stories and they haunt them ’till they’re dead.
_Are they burried in the same grave they found the stories that killed them ?
_I’m not sure. You never really know what finally happen to them. They disappear. That’s all. And the stories they dig out return to their beginning…. until someone fall in.
_We should condemn these graves.
_We should. But we don’t.
_I don’t know. Maybe because we need bad stories to see how good are the others. And we must admit some people love bad stories.
_And the forest ?
_She was walking through.
_And then ?
_I can’t recall. It’s too late. You spoke too much.
_Oh please !
_I can’t… even if I wanted I couldn’t.
_Please tell me ! Tell me anything ! Not about the forest if you can’t recall the forest !
_What if I didn’t want to speak at all ? Didn’t want to speak anymore ?
_Please don’t leave me like that ! Don’t let silence win ! Don’t leave me alone with no word to feed my head, to fill the night !
_Don’t blame me. You’re the one at fault. Don’t cry to me. You ask too many questions. Why can’t you accept these things without explanation ? Everyone’s gone away from you because you can’t shut up.
_So can’t you ! You speak and you speak again and again and you don’t even remember where you start. And then you tell me it’s my fault ? I was just asking for a story… You came, said you gonna tell a story and you didn’t ! You lied….
You’re a liar
I hate you.
In every stories there’s a cat.
It’s like a mandatory stuff.
Like the « they lived happy for ever and ever and even ever after » stuff.
I think that everyone, one day, thought it could be a lie… But no one will ever say there’s no sense for a cat to be in a story. There must be a cat in any story. No way.
You want my opinion ?
There must be a cat in the story because someone has to witness everything that happens. And cats, it’s a fact, see everything. They never sleep. Never. Or just with one eye, one ear. ‘Cause they are waiting for you to make a mistake. And when you do it…
Don’t we say
« when the cat’s not here, mice danse » ?
So yeah, mice do dance.
And rats too, but you don’t want to know.
I’m no different. There’s a cat in my story too. Named Lucy. With a long long story of his own. He told me the first time we met. It was some times ago. I can’t really remember. But it was 3 o’clock in the morning. I can recall every single words he said on that night.
I was walking out. I couldn’t sleep. I still had my human body. I wasn’t an exceptionnal boy. But I was a nice friend to talk to. Well, that’s my opinion.
This night I wanted to look at the stars. In fact, I wanted to find one particular star. The one that says you’re not alone. Night were always so lonely. I walked so long I ended up in the forest. Like in the movies you know, you don’t know why but you’re afraid of something that may come and kill you with all the suffering asked by the genre. I started to sing. Well, I suppose if you have to die, it’s better to do it quick so I was calling for the dangerous murderer that would save this night and all the following from boredness. I sang and sang and sang. Still going deeper and deeper inside the forest. ‘Till I couldn’t see the stars. ‘Till I couldn’t even remember there were stars in this world.
But no murderer came.
Today I still feel a bit betrayed by the choice fate made for me.
Instead of a danregous serial killer of any kind, a cat came. But not the everyday cat. No. The Cheshire cat. And he was like in the movie. Pink and purple and the big smile with all the teeth and the yellow eyes and the laugh and the words that make no sense…
I don’t really remember what we talked about. Something like...
_I’m looking for a way out
_Out of what ?
_Out of here
_There’s no wall so you can go
_But I don’t know how
_Then how can you say solution is out ?
_’Cause it’s in ?
_What solution ?
_To go out !
_Out of what ?
Well I’m not really sure…
All I know for sure is this thing : we talked so long that I felt asleep. And when I woke up, I was alone and the world seems much more bigger than the day before. The moment I wanted to catch a mouse because I was hungry, I started having doubts. Deep doubts. But when I PURRED after having EATEN the mouse I just KILLED, I was pretty sure something WERE wrong with me.
I was a cat. A goddamned fucking cat.
Do you think you can help me find that damned Cheshire back ? ‘Cause, y’know, I start being sick of mouse…
That’s his story. I still don’t know whether he’s really a boy turned into a cat or just a cat sick of being lonely.
But even if I don’t know if it’s true, every night, we are looking for the Cheshire together.
I don’t believe in happy end for every story.
But I truely believe there must be a cat in every story.
Especially in mine.
We don’t talk.
Keep walking till night is over.
We walk through the treas
following the little sounds
And they look so afraid.
Whisper running down the streets.
But we can’t walk fast enough
and we loose them
and we fall in silence…
I can hear him breathing
I can hear the world breathing
So why can’t I breathe on my own ?
Lucy looked under the bed
and there were nothing
except the whisper whispering they want to be screams….
And Lucy spoke to them,
he sang with his little sweet voice
the story of a boy turned into a cat,
loosing his friends and hunting rats.
And the whispers asked
« how does it end ? »
Lucy kept silent.
I can hear him breathing
I can hear the world breathing
I can hear my mind falling apart
I can hear the sound on the floor
I can hear the little whispers crying under the bed
« how does it end how does it end ?«
how does it end ?
And the world kept silent.
« From whispers to screams if you can »
(composition, interprétation, clip : Enlia (ex Alf Hollow)
texte : NsL)
I can hear him breathing.
Through the hearphones I can hear him breathing.
I’m watching over the alarmclock.
I’m waiting for the alarmclock to ring.
I’m waiting for the light
That says night is over.
So you can hear the voice.
I can hear the fear coming from the outside.
Lost souls and lost thought.
They never thought they could ended up here.
Next to the house. Next to the emptiness.
Wait for me.
My name’s Lullaby and I can hear you breathe through the hearphones.
Curled up in the box
no move no breathe no time
I have no name.
I have no blood in my vein but no scar on my skin.
I met the cat named Lucy.
He was waiting for the Cheshire
to give him his body back.
And Cheshire never came.
I saw him a night,
wanted to call him.
But Cheshire has no name.
And finally he goes away.
Even not left his smile beyond.
And Lucy still has his cat’s body.
The humanoid cat keeps on walking
and street after street
he still doesn’t find the answer.
And I’m waiting for the alarmclock to ring.
And I can hear him breathing through the hearphones.
Wandering what he dreams about.
And I keep on walking after the Cheshire.
And I know Lucy stays with me only because there’s no one else.
OF COURSE there’s no one else.
Getting down my throat….
up in the wind…
Looking for the light.
Even Lucy remember the light.
Night is gonna be over. We can’t be lost in here.
Between all these walls.
My name’s Lullaby,
the cat’s Lucy but he’s not a cat.
we are watching over the alarmclock
and we can hear you BREATHE through the hearphones.