The Green Mirror
It was evening and she was running faster than she had ever
run. She knew that she had to move in the direction of the tents, and that the
tents were somewhere ahead of her, but somehow, they weren’t clear, obscured as
if by a mist. There was a galloping noise behind her, and a clinking of metal
upon metal, and horses neighing in a desperate symphony of sounded like
branches of a burning tree snapping in the heat. There was a smell of fear, and
she pushed faster.
She could hear the other kids talking, playing as they did
late in the evening after having eaten, biding their time until they were
called to shelter inside the huts. The kids were talking, and she recognized
one, tall Buribank, he who loved to preen among the other children and hold
himself above them, saying that the sun was sailing, and that the fish would
soon come out, little white dots that followed the sun but were never able to
catch it.
Darkness was spreading overhead like the flight of a giant
crow sweeping overhead. She heard her mother call out, “Sanariki!”, a name she
hadn’t been called in such a long time, and that meant little badger. It
provoked a hopeless cry of anguish, because she had been hoping for a long time
that she would see her mother again, but is she wasn’t fast enough, she might
not reach her in time. She knew she had to warn her, for the clinking of metal
sounded nearer, and if she didn’t get there in time, the moon would close its
arms and would fall below the ground, where it wouldn’t be able to hug her
anymore.
There were white shapes streaking next to her, and moving
off to the side. She thought they might have been rabbits, but they had longer
legs, as if they had grown bigger, and they darted off in one direction then
the next. She was tempted to follow them, because the tents where nowhere to be
found, and because she thought that if the white shapes had shown themselves to
her, it was because they wanted her to do something. The moon had long thin
arms, but those arms seemed to be streaked in red, and she saw the moon drop to
the ground and disappear.
The air felt chilling. She circled round and round, for
suddenly, she was up in the sky, and she was looking downward. The white shapes
turned into swirls, and they receded as she flew, faster and faster. She wanted
to continue watching the swirls, because they were so beautiful, and they were
like small whirlwinds, they moved up and down then dissipated like sparks thrown
up from a hearth fire as she and her little brother fanned it. Her brother was
with her, next to her, and he called out, “Sana”, as he waved the fan faster
and faster, but he always was too clumsy, and the sparks landed on the fan, and
caught fire. He laughed, and she drew closer to him.
Something hard hit her from behind, and her mother screamed.
The flaps of the tent were drawn tight. She could see
shadows outside, and she was holding onto something. It moved, and where she
expected to see her brother, she now saw a small sleeping badger. She always
did like the badgers, and had been named for one because she always did enjoy
playing by the side of the river. The badger snuggled up next to her, and she
held it tightly. She knew that she had to keep it still, she didn’t dare move.
The flies made it even more difficult for her, because the tent was full of
them, and there was no fire and no burning leaves to smoke them out.
The flies circled around with a purpose, and somehow, it
didn’t surprise her to see them moving around in formations, called out to each
other, waving small stick-like arms and pointing in one direction then another.
They were looking for something, probably for her, and why they couldn’t find
her she didn’t know. They buzzed repeatedly over her, again and again, and she
wanted to whimper, and to hold the badger closer, but the badger was gone. That
was when she noticed the ants, small red ants that were crawling up her arms
and pricking her as they moved up to her chest and then to her neck. She brushed
them off, desperately, and the flies started buzzing around more excitedly, but
still they didn’t close in on her. She couldn’t stop from screaming when she
felt one an ant crawl quickly up her cheek in a lightning raid, and poke her
eye.
The water was cold, but it was also beautiful and misty
blue. She knew she was in the water, looking up, and could see eagles circling
overhead. The eagles swirled, and they were looking down but didn’t dare swoop,
at least not yet. What they were watching, she didn’t know, but they seemed to
be upset, and the tops of the trees seemed to be tinged by red.
There were many shiny red fish around her, a whole wall of
fish that parted if she moved too close to them. She looked back, and saw the
fish closing in behind her as she moved ahead. They were around her, and she
was deep under water, but she could see clearly above, and saw clouds the color
of ash floating overhead. She no longer saw the eagles.
It was getting dark again, but not under the water. The fish
were glowing, and they seemed to be pointing the way, urging her to move
forward. She heard one whisper next to her ear, “It’s not far, we can’t go with
you, but you’re almost there.” Then the wall of fish disappeared, and she was
in front of a shape that looked like tent, but it was made of dark brown
branches in a lattice that was almost impenetrable. It was almost like a
basket, but somehow she knew it has not been woven by her mother, or by any of
the women of her tribe. It was very, very big, and she thought that someone
must be inside. She looked for a way inside, but couldn’t find a flap or door.
She moved in one direction, then another, and the lattice work
was seamless, and there seemed to be no opening. She started to grow
frustrated, for usually there was a flap or opening, if only at the top, where
the smoke would waft out when the fire had been lit inside. She needed to get
inside, but didn’t know why, and in desperation, she reached out to touch the
sticks. The first stick she touched wiggled, and then the other sticks started
wiggling, and then they all suddenly exploded outward, and dispersed without a
single one touching her. It was at this point that she looked down and wasn’t
surprised that, where she had had arms and legs, she now had fins, and she was
red like the fish who had guided her.
What she also noticed as the sticks moved away was that
there was a small green stone stuck in the bottom of the river. It glowed with a clear light, and she swam
towards it. Hovering above it, she tried
to decide how to pick it up. It
was much too big, much bigger than she was, and besides, she no longer had
arms, she had fins, and all she could do was swim around it. The feeling of
urgency she had felt to enter what she had thought was the tent and to see what
was inside was gone, and now, she felt she could hover there forever, in the
soft green light. She was small, and growing smaller, and the stone was growing
larger.
The stone was such a beautiful shade of green! It was purer
than anything she had ever seen before, and well-rounded. Her fish body also took on a
green cast. She felt content, satisfied to swim above the light, and she took
pleasure in the little snails all around her, floating by, thousands of snails,
and not a single one touching her as they drifted past.
The water was so peaceful, and she could hardly remember she
had lived in a tent, and had seen rabbits, and had had a little brother who had
fanned the flames with her. It didn’t matter any longer. She looked once again
into the green stone, and was bewildered to see her mother’s reflection, but
with an expression of fright and torment, urging her to hide, to hurry, to get
out of sight, and to go find a hole in which to hide. Go! She jumped as hard as she could.
It took a long time to land on the earth again. She must
have been flying again, but all she remembered was the fall, and the way the
mud by the side of the river rushed up to hit her. The sky had a green cast to
it, and she was far, far away, lonelier than she had ever been. She saw that her
leg was bleeding, and one of her arms was bent backwards, but somehow, it didn’t
hurt. She was just numb, and she didn’t feel anything when she that that
standing in front of her was an enormous white wolf. It seemed natural that it would have two
great big green eyes. She wasn’t afraid, though.
The wolf touched her arm, and she felt it come off, like a
sliver of meat. Ahead, off to the side, other
wolves were watching. They circled among themselves, then turned and suddenly disappeared
into the trees. The white wolf moved closer, and it loomed above her face. The
fur around its mouth was stained with red, and she knew instinctively that it
was blood, but whether it was hers or the wolf’s, she didn’t know. The wolf
didn’t open its jaws. It was bigger than she could have imagined, and she heard
men yelling far away, but this didn’t seem to bother it. The men were shooting,
and they were reflected in then green eyes of the wolf. But she and the wolf were
hidden by the trees now, and nothing could find them.
The wolf stood still, then dipped its head down nudged her
cheek. It burned, and then she knew that she had been colder than she had ever
been, but now felt as if she could move again. The wolf told her something, and
she relaxed. It was one phrase: “The moon has eaten again.” She woke up and
felt a tear roll down her cheek.
(January 17, 2014)
No comments:
Post a Comment