Writing workshop day 10


by Fabienne Mühlbacher

My feet are burried on a high hill, deep in the hard soil. I am proudly standing on this particular hill, looking over the deep forests and the landscape of not very densely sitting buildings, made by humans. I feel like I am levitating over the small towns, the unimportant roads, I feel like I could own all of this, just because of this royal appearing hill. Well, I am a Stift. Which means I am an abbey, build by people, who lived approximately one thousand years ago. You can´t imagine, can you? Well, for so long I was sitting here, my base resting deeply inside the hill, waiting for humans come and go, feeling the nature around me, being proud of my baroque appearance. I could go on and on about my architecture, about my decor and thoughtfully placed rooms, but today I want to tell you a story.

On a lost hallway, where hardly anyone comes by, in a side building just across the meticulous mowned lawn in front of the church, in a small hole in the wall just beside the door frame lived a mouse. I do not know its name anymore, even if this mouse was so confused in its tiny head, it would always whisper its own name in exactly the same rhythm and tone of voice, so that I had this rhythmically called name stuck in my ear for ages (and I mean ages, like forty years or so), but sadly then I forgot it. Shame on me. However, this mouse was kind of rebellious. It had visions, it wanted to do something, to change the world, change the universe. But it was also a bit confused. Sometimes it would just swooosh across the marble floor, almost stumbling and in the last second keeping itself from falling, then swooosh around the corner, almost falling again, and slide into a corner. Then, it would face the walls. It would sit down. And giggle. And giggle. I could see the tears in its eyes, because something in its head was so funny. Anyways, I wanted to tell you the story of this mouse. I already told you that it lived inside a wall. These insides were a small paradise for the mouse. There were so many perfectly created paths and small spaces, because of the construction, that it really had a luxurious home. The mouse one day got out of the building. It swoooshed to the wonderful staircase, where some artist- I again cannot remember the name- painted a sky with all the mythtic characters of the bible, and where just in that moment a ceremony was held. The pope himself slowly and gracefully was about to go down the stairs. The mouse, though, swoooshed again, now far more quickly than most times, swoooshed right through the pope´s legs and grabbed the tiny piece of cheese it had spotted. Unfortunately, the pope was so afraid of mice that he jumped away, tripped over his long costume, fell down the stairs and broke so many bones he died immediately. The next pope arrived a year later at the beautiful site I am standing, and the mouse swoooshed around in the hallway again. At that time, the pope was eating at an extraordinarily filled table. The mouse did not care though, got into the room through a hole in the door, jumped on the table and again grabbed a piece of cheese. The pope was so angry, he tried to scream at the servants, but he unfortunately had a huge piece of duck still in his mouth and suddenly he coughed, turned extremely red and chocked to death. Years passing on, this rhythm continued. The mouse outlived five generations of popes like this. When the mouse died, I was kind of sad that I had not had its swoooshing around anymore. But when I took a quick look at its apartment behind the walls it lived in- I did not before, because I wanted it to have its private space- I saw the galaxy. The universe. I mean I did not see the real galaxy… but I saw a huge piece of art hanging on the inside of the wall. I saw that the mouse had hung a huge dark blue fabric across the whole inside of the wall, and glued its tiny, half rotten pieces of cheese on the fabric so that it looked like shimmering stars. I was breathless. After a few minutes of me staring on to the piece of art, I noticed something written underneath the piece of art on the right side: „For you. You are so tall, but you will never reach the stars. “
The mouse brought the stars to me.

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