Purple Scream

Achaemenid Gold Earring

4

I hear something outside in the balcony. Two doves, white like snow, and beautiful, have perched on our railing. Doves often bring me smiles. They remind me of my childhood, and the long nights when my great aunt was visiting. “Ezy”, we called her, was a great storyteller and knew thousands of stories. With her around we felt like the king in the  1001 nights. She was our own Shahrzad.

“Tell us another one”, we would plead.

Ezy never refused, never complained that she was too tired. We stayed up past midnight and she told us story after story. So many of Ezy’s stories included doves as part of the cast. Great white doves of her stories could speak, but only to each other. Their dialogue was part of the story, so we could hear them too. It was as if they were the storyteller’s special helper! The doves had a specific mission; they would give us bits of information that the hero and heroines didn’t have access to, but we were to find out about soon! A clever invention of the old storytellers, which made us feel smarter than the cast! The story doves always came in twos, and they were always sisters! Smart, clever, and intelligent sisters!

White Story Doves

5

Now, a set of white doves are sitting on our balcony, looking at me in the funny way they do, while moving their tiny heads from one side to the other. I look them back in the eyes.

“Hello”, I whisper in my mind, “Can you tell me what happened at our house that summer day in 1953?” I smile. “You could if you were Persian Story Doves. But you are not from the stories. You are just doves.” I think to myself, “You aren’t even able to understand me, which is fair since I can’t understand you either.”

“Long, long time ago, when people were still good, they could understand the animal’s language.” my grandmother used to tell us when she told us stories, not as often as Ezy.

“But I guess the world is now changed and is filled with bad people who are not good enough to understand your tongue,” I say to the doves.