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The Telur Suci's rare beauty and fragile form puts them in league with the snow flake. But their wavelength is limited to sound frequencies. And so, as audio-synthesis has not been documented in this universe this tale has been classed as a myth. 

It was their iridescent purple glow that led to their discovery beneath the earth in the Cave of Life on an Indonesian Isle - thousands of tiny prehistoric eggs. With no other evidence than their delicate form and beauty, the sacred eggs, the Telur Suci, were considered a source of good fortune, health and longevity.  And so they were worn about the neck as an amulet.

As existence for the island’s inhabitants had long fallen into drudgery, the dissemination of this treasure had been swift. Life became interesting again and smiles returned. And when someone died the amulet was passed on to a new born child.

The most noticeable sign of the elevated state of the inhabitants was the tone of their voice. It had become playful and lyrical. And so for hundreds of years they prospered in this way.


The sacred egg was worn about the throat which put it against the vocal chords, and as they were alive, they absorbed the audio and the emotional tone of their hosts. Their evolution was gradual over the years. At first they began to vibrate. This was pleasurable to the host and it enhanced the sound of their voice. Then after several hundred years of audio absorption the egg began to add a subtle reverberation to their voice. And soon song became their daily language.  When visitors from other islands came they would be swept up in this lyrical atmosphere.

But there were negative influences, those few who objected to joy. And so over the millennia this Shangri La became diluted. Eventually the amulets were taken for granted and then fell into disuse. They had become a superstitious bauble of an ancient myth. But the monks of the island's  monasteries held the Telur Suci in high regard. And so they were collected up and stored in clay urns.

One day a shaman came down from the mountain and told the monks that the eggs were actually alive and that they were nurtured by the human voice. And so the monks began chanting to them. And the eggs responded, they became colorful and animate again.


The monks then brought them out as part of the religious festivals. The songs of the festivals stirred the Telur suci and soon they began to participated in the songs.  At the close of the celebrations the monks would gather them up and take them back to the monasteries. But the people objected. "The Telur Suci make us happy. They should stay with us." The monks ignored them and continued carrying the urns back to the monastery.


One day  a bold villager stood in their path, “We wish to be happy all the time, why do you ignore our request?” The senior monk sternly responded, “The Gru’kiba.” The elders in the crowd shuddered at this word while the others looked puzzled and confused.


The monk looked with compassion on their frightened faces, “Come.” he said, and led them to the temple. He walked them past the bas relief panels on the walls, reacquainting them with the history of their culture. They came to a panel depicting terrified villagers running past burning shrines, In the air above was a large parrot-like bird breathing flames. The monk first pointed at the burning shrines, “Telur Suci” and then pointed at the bird, “Gru’kiba”.

So at the festivals in the following years no objections were raised when the monks returned the urns to the monastery. But eventually the senior monk was no longer with them.  And so when the objection was raised again "The Telur Suci make us happy. They should stay with us." there was no counter.

And so the people’s wishes prevailed and the sacred eggs were placed in sheltered shrines in public places. The shrines were constructed in such a way as to amplify their tiny voices. At night as the people lay in their huts they could hear the tiny voices as they mimicked the songs they had heard during the day. But this harmonious state did not last. One night the Gru’kiba  dropped screeching from the sky, flaming the shrines and gorging upon the eggs.


On a nearby hillside sat the old shaman from the mountain watching the smoke rising from the smoldering shrines. At his feet was a small clay urn containing the last of the Telur Suci. He placed the lid on the urn, wrapped it in his shawl and with this bundle over his shoulder he stood up and walked away.


Sanskrit inscription on the temple wall -

The Telur Suci ~ In our throats and on our tongues, quiet and fragile, forever calling, forever singing ~ the voice of life.

This is the back story for the screenplay Forever Song.

The Legend of the Telur Suci

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