the night..
When he steals the colors of things to lend them the dark color as a uniform for a shift.
When the trees are sure that no one sees the birds that shelter them.
When the door of ideas opens for a thousand new guests to enter, giving ideas enthusiasm and wildness, giving silence voices that crowd together until the dream approaches and takes over.
Michel stood watching the scene from the attic window, holding a large glass of apple juice as a miserable remedy for the gout that had set in his joints.
When he finally finished the cup, he handed it to his disciple Shifu, then went up to the bed and called his loyal disciple, who reluctantly came to him saying:
- "Yes, sir."
" Shifu " said as he watched the calm look on his teacher's face despite the pain .
" You have always been my best student, like the son I never had."
Shifu replied in gratitude:
" And you, sir, God knows that you are more than a teacher to me. You were a loving father who took pity on me and embraced me when no one else would."
Michel smiled, then patted the young man's hand and said:
" That's why I'm going to confide in you now."
His student leaned towards him with interest, and added:
" Remember that time I told you I could predict the hour of my death?"
Shifu nodded at him, and he continued,
" The hour has come. Now, I will go to the Lord to rest at last."
With amazement in his mind, Shifu covered his teacher well with the blanket, then put out the candles to let him sleep.
Shifu would not believe that anyone knew the hour of his death, even if he was a soothsayer like his teacher Michel. Even if many of his predictions were true, he did not care, he thought they were the result of his illness's delirium, so he stood at the door, then said:
Good evening , sir.
He left quietly, then closed the door on his teacher.
And inside, another Michel began to materialize from the void. He woke him up and called him to attention, then asked him:
- "What did you do?".
The other replied weakly:
" I did what you told me to do, I told Shifu my time had come even though he didn't seem to believe it, now what?"
The other Michel sat on the bed, patted him and smiled:
" When I told you that King Henry III would die in a duel, did that prophecy not come true? Wasn't King Henry killed in a duel with the nobleman of Montgomery who pierced the king's head with his spear and killed him?"
The other Michel replied hesitantly:
" Indeed, but you also told me that the child Henry would become King of France, and that the hermit you prostrated to would become Pope, and those prophecies have not yet come true."
The other replied:
"Be patient, my friend, everything I have told you will come true. I only ask you to trust me, nothing more."
The latter replied:
" Since you appeared to me in the attic, you have been asking me for that trust, and I have given it to you willingly . Isn't it time for you to give me yours? When will you tell me the secret? When will you satisfy my curiosity about your world and where you came from?"
The other smiled tenderly and replied:
" There are things that, when we understand their meaning, lose their magic, my dear, but, in all fairness, I testify that you have been the best companion on the path . Now, the time has come to place the jewel on the crown that crowns our efforts, the time has come for the great miracle.
From now on, all generations will revere us as prophets, they will not wait for our prophecies to come true, but will deliberately make them come true. The educated before the ignorant will pant after these prophecies, they will become their law and their holy book that they glorify day and night.
"It is the greatest miracle and the greatest deception in history, my friend. Since you have predicted the time of your death and have been imprinted with the certainty of the heavenly books on the book of prophecies that we have written, whoever predicts the hour of his death must be a great prophet worthy of immortality and reverence. Our book will take the place of the heavenly books and no one will doubt it anymore. We have risen, my dear, to the rank of prophets. From this moment until the end of generations, everyone will know who the great Michael is."
Michel replied:
" But I probably won't die now, then we'll look like fools. Right?"
The look-alike smiled wickedly, then said:
" I'm sure we can handle this."
Michel was distracted for a moment, then opened his eyes wide. Before he could scream, the doppelganger pulled a pillow and placed it on Michel's head as he lay in bed, and began to press, ignoring the feeble resistance, ignoring the voice calling for help. His eyes were filled with tears in a way that he himself did not understand . Was he about to cry because he would lose his only friend in that inevitable conspiracy? Or because he saw himself in Michel when he was being killed? Surely, if it was him and not Michel under the pillow , he would also have been beaten and kicked with the same hands and the same feet... the same mouth would be gagged, and the same muscles would cramp .
Without hesitation, he pressed and pressed, and in the midst of the resistance, Michel fell from his bed. The latter took the initiative and threw him the pillow, on which two tears fell from his eyes when he closed them, screaming and gritting his teeth. He remained like that until he could no longer breathe.
He stood up panting and put everything back as it was, leaving the body lying on the ground, then he addressed her saying : Rest, my friend Michel; from now on, human history will record your predictions in letters of gold. ..
"Nostradamus' predictions".
****