Part 4 Over There

It might refresh your memory to first read parts 1-3 of Over There Lies The Green.   This is a serial urban fairy tale.




He held his knife as if it didn't matter in the least.
As if he were daring her to move past him, or to resume her strange exercises in the sun-dappled clearing.
Francine wasn't sure what to do.  But her citylife training served  her well and came to her in a flash.


Quick:  Attitude to escape notice by Crazy:  Eyes down, head slightly inclined.  Eyes averted, but watchful. Watch the nose and the hips. Start to walk quickly and purposefully.


"Hello"  She said, walking quickly and purposely past him.


He flung the knife away from him as disinterestedly as it were a piece of ear wax.  It crossed in front of her, a slight wind bent her eyelashes.  It went THRUNG! into a tree across the clearing into a red and white target.  (it stuck right in the middle)


"Oh" Francine said, "you scared me.  But you're just like target-throwing or whatever! cool! I've never tried that, but I guess I would..."
She realized that she was babbling insanely, but she couldn't stop.  More citylife training, the need to appear crazier than the crazy's. Mixed with a little bit of submissive cop-bowing. 


"Well," she said edging away.  "Nice meeting you and all, but I'm exploring the GreenBelt, so-"
"I know what you're doing," he said "And I don't like it."
"Why? What?" she sputtered.
"You don't know where you're going, you've got a stick for protection, I guess, you're probably going to get lost and die out her anyway, and you have one of those stupid Pocket Oracle's! I hate those things!"
"So what?" Francine was riled and no mistake.  To insult her P.O. and say she would die out here in the same breath, it was too much.


"So WHAT.  It was nice meeting you Mr. Knife-thrower, but-"
"And we didn't even meet, that's the most ridiculous thing."
"Oh my god!"
"I've seen citydwellers like you out here before, and I'm sorry to say that it's kind of pathetic.  Wandering around out here like it's your backyard.  And a stick!"


He stepped forward, dusting off his pants.
"That's why you should hire me."
"Hire you for what?"
"As your guide.  I'm about done practicing, anyway."  He pulled another knife from somewhere on his person and lobbed it at the tree.  It stuck, quivering.


"Are you...expensive?" Francine asked.  
"I'll tell you what.  You can trade me your Pocket Oracle for my services."
"I thought you hated those"
"I want to get it so I can smash it!"
She reconsidered ever even considering.


"Ummm, maybe I don't need...and anyway you called me a pathetic citydweller so why should you care about guiding me? I'm probably just going to turn around here anyway, I've seen enough-"
"Oh don't do that! Come on, I'll lead you out through the Oldest Forest, don't you want to see it?"
"Oh yes, I've heard of that place!"
"So trade me and let's go."
So she handed him the P.O. and he took it, stuffing it down snugly into his pocket.  He consulted the sky  and the light wind, and they turned eastward to see the Oldest Forest.
"But what's your name?" Francine asked, touching his elbow.
"Mr. Knife-thrower, to you."
She felt trapped in one of those movies they showed in school, an absurdly sarcastic and witty buddy picture of the last century.  Was having a guide such a great idea?
"Ok, Mr. Knife-thrower, can you stop?"
He stopped and they faced each other.
"If you're going to be my guide then I'm like..your employer right? Your boss?"
"Yeah, I guess so. Do you want to give me an order?"
"Yes I do actually.  Try not to  be such a dick.  Don't walk so fast.  And tell me your  name.  I'm Francine." She held out her hand, totally prepared to have it sliced off at the wrist if one of his knives appeared.
But he grasped her hand and said "Ok.  I'll try."
"And....?" She asked.
"It's  Freddy.  Don't laugh."
"I won't.  I wouldn't!  But...our names kind of..."
And they both laughed.  He patted the Pocket Oracle and they started walking.  

Over There Lies The Green ** Part Three **

There stood Francine, forlorn and lonely and lost in the midst of the mysterious GreenBelt.  She stared into the denseness of the forest to her left, to her right and then straight ahead.  Behind her lay the not-so-well worn path home that her Pocket OracleR  had just advised her to take.  Peering through the trees she could just make out the inhuman towers of the City.  She envisioned the dusty dry city with it's aimless walkers and random rolling garbage and she shuddered.  She wasn't ready to go back to that, not yet.  Francine you see, had that fluttery sensation in her upper intestine that told her her adventure lay ahead, as yet undiscovered and still to be experienced. She couldn't turn back now.


Thrusting the Pocket OracleR into her pocket she decided to blaze a trail for herself.  How hard could it be? She scouted along the ground and selected a sharpish stick.  With stick in hand she plunged forward into the forest, into the least plant occupied quadrant visible to her.


As she moved deeper and deeper into the forest she smelled more and different scents; rotting nature, a little too sweet and pungent; cool ancient trees that smelled like her old grand-dad's closet; secret dankish ponds that made her wrinkle her nose.  There were skittering air bugs and strange noises in the green to the right and left.  Francine had never experienced  such solitude.  She felt as if she were the only hairless creature walking on two legs left in the world.  It was terrifying, but she also wondered if she would ever crave the companionship of her fellow Citydwellers again.  It was as if she had always been alone, on this path, as if she always would be on it, as if it might never end.  And she was happy.


Continuing on Francine entered a clearing with a grassy lawn ringed about with too tall birch trees, white and mottled and variously crooked.  Obviously a magical spot.  She had a sudden mad urge to take off her cramped Hike-a-little shoes and run barefoot on the grass.  Her socks were sticky and fragrant, in a bad way.  The ground was green and so cushy, so soft! She ran in laughing circles, pulled an inelegant cartwheel and toppled to her back.  She stared at the sky and noticed the sun was a lot lower.  She traced it's path from east to west with her forest whacking stick.
She had no care for the time.


Suddenly her scalp began prickling and she felt watched.  Here? Who? Turning swiftly she faced the watcher as he sat quietly staring at her from a close-by stump.  How did she miss him before? Had he seen her bad cartwheel? Her heart beat so hard it made her dizzy.  Gripping the earth she said,


"Who are you and what're you doing?" in one rush of a breath.


"I could ask you the same question," he said in a hushed manner, flicking open his knife.


end part three**********

Over There Lies The Green***Part Two

As Francine approached the GreenBelt she first noticed a particular smell; she tried to identify it but she couldn't.  It was a combination of hot evergreens, grass, wood resin, ferns.  It was sweet and wild and penetrated her senses insistently.  She breathed it in and out.  In and out.  She had never tasted anything so beautiful and so transitory, for it seemed to dissipate on her palate as soon as she tried to savor it.


The trail began to rise as she moved under the canopy of the trees.  Her toes dug into the dirt and she actually had to use her City hardened leg muscles to climb.  It was an unfamiliar sensation to feel the unevenness of the rocks that were seemingly half buried in the ground! Who put them there? A random scuttling off to her left startled her but she continued, resolutely.  There were many things unseen yet aware in this place, she felt.  She wanted to experience it all.


Up ahead the trail suddenly stopped.  Just ended.  Nameless bushes, wide round firs and various other "nature" blocked her path.  So soon?  Francine plunked herself down to the ground.  But instead of crying which was what she wanted to do (she had only just entered the fabled GreenBelt and now it's mysteries were being denied to her!), she pulled out a vegetable "nutrition" bar and began to sadly eat it.  


"I have two choices," Francine thought.  "I can forge ahead and make my own trail, or I can turn back.  It's just one o'clock, I still have loads of daylight left. But that way looks so dark.  And that way is so overgrown! And that way... oh what am I going to do? I can't leave already."


She sat chewing and contemplating.


After sitting there in the dirt for what seemed like hours, she finally decided to consult her Pocket OracleTM . The Pocket OracleTM  was a popular 21st century invention that was designed to make the correct decision for you in any situation, no matter the variables or moisture content.  The P.O. as it was known locally, was guaranteed to not only eliminate all of the "wrong" choices, but to pre-determine any future outcomes as well.  The P.O. seemed her best chance.


As Francine wound the handle on the smooth metal side and gently extended the feeley cord and she quietly asked, "Which way should I go?"


The P.O. sighed.


"What has taken place in the past is now taking place in the present and will take place in the future, but perhaps at a different rate."


"What?!" Francine yelped.  "What kind of answer is that? How does this help me now?"


The P.O. sighed again.
"Turn back.  Go home." 




End Part Two

****************************

Over There Lies The Green

The woods, they seemed darker than ever.  The branches scratched, the vines tangled, the bugs bugged! Sounds reverberated in new and threatening ways.


Even the light had shrunk as she plunged ever deeper.


What happens when you explore too far and neglect to leave bread crumbs to guide you home again? 


The adventure had begun as a lark. Bored and frustrated with the dry and mean citystreets, Francine, staring south through the misty smog, spied a far off haze of green.  This was the nearby GreenBelt, also known by the more antiquated term,  "Forest".


The GreenBelt was a visionary oasis and it hovered beatifically 2 or 3 miles from the city.  A good walk, the old timers said.  A Healthy stroll.  And the marvels you could see there! Tales of luscious evergreens, towering maples, even the oldest/tallest tree left in the City! There was talk of an "Eagle's" nest and a hot stone swimming beach with a view of the tallest towers of the City.  Marvels all, truly, especially for a weary cement dweller such as Francine.


Her comrades thought her adventure ridiculous; they had never been to the GreenBelt, Why should she? They tossed their trendy bangs angrily and stomped loudly on their smouldering butts.  They all but forbade her to go, who was she to go exploring on her own? But this ultimatum had the effect of convincing her that an adventure was exactly what she needed.  So she left.


Turning left, forward, quick right and then forward again, she made her way south passing an array of sights she had never before seen.  There was the sword-swallower shop, crowded with professionals;  she passed a howling antique menagerie located under a forgotten bridge.   Finally she moved out of the City and located the dusty trail that led straight to the GreenBelt.  Although the citizens were uniformly discouraged from leaving the City, the trail looked well worn and smooth.  The sun shouted his heat throughout the air.  Luckily she wore her favorite hat, a relic of the olden days emblazoned with her family's totem, a bloody eyeball.


The day grew ever hotter as she traveled and the weeds seemed to explode with their overloaded seed pods.  This summer had been drier than expected, and the small insects hummed with pleasure.  Or was it heat stroke?


Along the trail Francine came upon a curiosity:  a walking stick stuck into the ground.  The stick was as thick as a young girl's forearm and carved with spirals and black-inked serpents intertwining.  She approached the stick carefully and looking around for it's owner, she grasped it.  Immediately she felt a shock and experienced a sensation of falling slowly and luxuriously into a massive blackness.  She let go of the stick quickly.  
Whew, that was close she thought.  This walking stick was one of seven that were placed around the City to keep it's inhabitants within it's borders.  She inched around the mute sentinel and continued on her way.


end of Part 1

Noise in the Castle

Molly Maple woke from a dream of lightening and fast moving cars with a start. A jump. Heart beating and breathing a little gasp.  Had there been a noise?
What was that that woke her up? A...  what?

She stared into the dark, hunched upright now,  and tried not to move.  One muscle.  Was it watching her, that shape over there? Lurking so densely on the chair?
No, it was just her pea coat humped in a lump.

An eye! an eye in the dark! gleaming...oh.  Just the sequins on her Elvis cape.

Wait! She strained her ears with all her might to listen:
a singular twisting as of metal turning within metal.   Yes, that was it.
Was that it?

She leaned back, slowlyslowly, and stared at the random light pattern on the ceiling.
Tempted to hide under the covers, but now getting so drowssssszzzzzzy....
Listening still..
 She closed her eyes.
Opened!
Closed.
Asleep.

**************************

3 drops in the meat 3 drops in the wine-

and Ivy knew deeeeeep in her guts that it was wrong but what else could she do? She had grown used to the dark meetings with her lover the Moonlight, and except for the difficult week of the dark-of-the-moon, they hadn't been without each other for weeks.  How comfortable a temporary situation can become.


Uncle, asleep in his chair, his nose touching his chest.  Uncle, his warnings  for her to keep to the house at night unheeded, spends his days in a perpetual grog. Nothing will stand before love, it will leave a wasteland in it's wake!  Now is her cue to slip out into the late summer night.  


The moonlight was grouchy, having waited and waited for his love. (She had to bathe first of course! and perfume herself and put roses in her cheeks.)


"What took you so long.." he growled in their secret way.


"I'm here now aren't I?" She sighed and fell to the ground, rolling back and forth in the grass in his light.  She giggled and wrapped her arms around herself.
"I guess this won't be as much fun in the winter." 


"You're getting grass all over yourself," the Moonlight said.


"I don't care! I could lie here forever," she said and stopped rolling and stared up at the sky.
"The universe is so dark, but that is where you live.   And here you are with me, now,  giving me a little bit of it's light."


"Who's light?"
"The Universe's!"
"Yes," he said, "and I always will."


"But will you always love me, as you do right now?"


And because he was older and very much wiser, he said;
"Probably not.  But what do I know!  This feeling right here, with you, feels different to me.  But I have been in love many many times."


"I've never loved anyone like this.."


"You're lucky," the Moonlight sighed,"it always seems to end so sadly."


"Well I never even thought this wouldn't go on, forever and forever-" and she stopped talking with a thump because she heard what she was saying.


"Ivy, you will find the life you were meant to live."
"But how will I ever find it!"
"You'll have to stop spending all you time in the backyard with me."
"What?"
"You know I especially love watching you writhe under my stare, Ivy.  I spend my time in other parts of the world dreaming of your face, your hair, your pants...but-"
"But a romance between a celestial light and a human woman will never work out will it."
"Have you thought about sex?"
"What about it?" she blushed, leaning over into the dark.
"How that would work, between us I mean."
"Well, don't you know?" she asked.
"No!" he said.  " I've never, done that before.."


"I don't care about that," she whispered and traced a pattern of him in the grass with her bare toe.


"You don't mean that.  I don't believe you." he whispered back.


She cried and then she cried.  He brushed against her ear and spoke sweet silver words to her.  They went into her soul and she felt a little less, less than whole.


*************
It was late when Ivy finally locked the door behind her.  She saw the taxi waiting at the curb, and as she walked toward it she took one last look at the lingering moonlight.  Then she opened the door and climbed inside.


********************

One Night I Went Outside and I...

..just to look she thought, she just had to get a drink of that warm summer night-air.  


Ivy opened the back door stealthily and oh, the full moon! And the light! as it swept the yard.  Ghostly bright, a little shy.  VERY handsome.  She fell almost painfully in love.  And the Moonlight suddenly likewise, saw the girl and fell in love with her watery beauty, water being one of the Moonlight's favorite substances, as he adored playing across it's gorgeous various surfaces.


They spent the evening basking in each other's beauty; it was a heady experience for them both.  It in fact disturbed them so much it sharply altered their behavior.   Ivy remained inside at night, away from all windows for a week.  The Moonlight ran patchily over dark lawns, as the moon hid behind a thin scrim of slow moving clouds.


Uncle was glad of the new found reclusive bent in Ivy.  She had been his ward as a child and, after becoming emancipated, decided to continue living in his house as his maid.   Ivy had always been an explorer, disappearing for hours and annoying Uncle to no end!


Ivy cooked, cleaned and fluffed his pillows.  She also washed and detailed his car, had his golf clubs cleaned and had his suits tailored. When addressing Ivy,  Uncle had gotten into the habit of just calling her "I".  This had the effect of putting her constantly alert for her name in a sort of dull, rat in a maze sort of way.  Was she "I"? Was he "I"?  And she heard him say "I" all the time; he was quite a pontificator.


Ivy often wondered if there might be a more fulfilling life out there for her.  A different kind of partner.  Maybe even her own "I".


Uncle however, was more than comfortable with the arrangement and saw no reason to change it.  She was paid well! Well paid! (He was also confirmed bachelor, and liked it that way.)


And now here was this Moonlight, shining so confidently and so so lovely.  But to fall in love? With a patch of light? Haha! Stupid! Ridiculous....


And how did they even communicate? She honestly couldn't remember, although... did she reveal something, something secret?  Did he?  And later, feeling a shiver as she traced him with her eyes, back up to the moon. 


After their initial shyness together, they began to lust after their next encounter.  Ivy began to go outside again and the Moonlight was never brighter and more seductive.  There was a stretch in June where they spent 10 nights in a row together!  Uncle was not pleased.


"For one thing I," he began, "the silver ware is not being properly cleaned.  And the grout in my shower is turning pink.  And my suits have not been picked up from the cleaners..."


"I'm just so tired Uncle," she replied whilst yawning a face splitting yawn.  She had been up to almost-day-light. Again.


"I have to say I, it is kind of weird, you're spending an awful lot of time out in the back yard at night.  Why is that? Please don't do it anymore, I."
"I'm studying astronomy Uncle, I have to be out there!"
"I don't know.  I don't think it's safe.  Study during the day."
"But Uncle!"
"Don't make me lock you in, treasure."  He chucked her under her chin.  "Make that steak for me tonight will you, RARE."


And that was the night she first began putting  drops in his evening meat and drink.  Uncle slept soundly all night long.


END OF PART 1**********************

The Wall part 5

(When we  last saw our hero Stacey, she was stripping a lavender rose of it's petals, a rose that spoke and commanded her to do so, a beauteous rose that sounded exactly like her recently deceased sister, Lana.)


"I repeat, what the hell are you doing to my roses?"


It was the boy-voice, a voice coming from a very stern fellow who had suddenly appeared in the rose garden.


"Oh, nothing sir," Stacey replied as she quickly stripped the petals and shoved them into her sweatshirt pocket.


"I saw you, you just picked one of my roses!"


"No I didn't, I stripped it."


"Same thing! What gives you the right? I grow those roses, I tend them and water and feed them and-"


"I know Sir, and they're beautiful.  You're a very very good gardener.   But my sister's voice was talking to me from them, and she told me to strip the petals and put them in my pocket."


A strange muffled ranting was heard coming from her pocket.


"And she died, not too long ago, and, I miss her. So I did it."


Stacey looked down in shame and acceptance.  But she would not give up the petals, even if he asked her too, even if he threatened her, no way.


"Your sister? Lana's your sister?"


"Yes, hey did she talk to you too?"


The boy/man sat down in a clump among the roses. "Wow,"  he said.   He absently picked up a clod of dirt and crushed it in has hand.


"She has been talking, yeah a lot, about some..stuff and god sometimes I can't even sleep because of that voice! blah blah blah.."


A "sound" strained from Stacey's pocket in an irate tone.


"My bedroom is right there," and he pointed to the mirror image of her house that was his house, and he pointed to the room that also belonged Stacey, on the other side of the Wall. "It's right to the left of the rose garden, so when someone's talking all night, you can't sleep." He yawned dramatically.


"That's my room too! And it was Lana's before she.. before that dang wall...."


"She told me.  She told me all of it.  You're Stacey."


"Yeah! She told you about me?"


"She said you'd be coming soon.  She said you're a weaver."


"Well I'm more of a stitcher."


"Over her we call them 'weavers'".


"Oh," Stacey said.  


And then, because her pocket began to vibrate with that frustrated muttering, she pulled a single petal out of her pocket.


"Oh finally! I thought you dunces would never figure that out!"


"Sorry Lana," Stacey and the boy/man both said sheepishly.  Lana in a mood was nothing to be trifled with, even if she was just a voice coming from an aging petal. But to be scolded by her long lost Lana! It was like a dream.


"Well!" the petal announced.   "At least you picked a pretty flower Stacey.  Thank you.  I have to tell you little girl, these petals won't last forever.  And when they die, my voice will cease.  And you only have so many petals. And I have a lot to tell you about why you're here. Get it? Good.  So we need to get going NOW.  Did you guys even notice anything? Listen.  Oh yeah, this is Owen."


"Hi," Stacey said.


"Nice to meet you," Owen mumbled and they shook hands, as he jumped up.


"Yeah, it is really quiet here all of a sudden." Stacey looked quickly toward the forest as a shrill bird called.  This forest grew on her right, in the west.  At home it existed in the east.  How funny,  the sun was setting behind it, turning the sky a flaming red when at home, her forest sky welcomed a soft, bluish light.   What a funny sight!


"Is that that 'thing' you were yelling about all week?" He yawned again. "Like 24 hours a day."


"Yes, but I can't believe you were actually listening."


"You're tones are dulcet," he muttered and blushed.


"So little sister, the plan is that we will have to first get you...."


And as Lana's familiar voice spoke from the rapidly browning and crisping petal held so lovingly in Stacey's hand, it seemed to drift, and break, and then cease all together.


"What?! What was she gonna say?" Stacey demanded.


"I don't know, pull out another petal!"


And so she did.

**************************

The Wall part four

(When we last saw our hero, Stacey had summoned her ancestral powers and walked through the stubborn Wall that had foiled and then killed her sister.)


Stacey looked about at the brave new world in front of her.  It looked exactly the same.


"This can't be right", she thought to herself.  She turned around in a circle, but her house was no longer behind her.  The Wall was.  Angrily aloud she said "No way!  My sister promised that there would be a better world over here,  that there was a reason to leave my home and risk my life  and give up my dream of an embroidery store, and leave mother all alone, and my cat...." But what was really troubling Stacey was that her sister had possibly died in vain.


So she set about to see what was in this new land, what else was she to do?  She felt the Wall behind her with both hands, and she pushed off.   It felt like letting go of the side of the swimming pool and suddenly finding yourself in the deep end.


The land truly looked the same! But a mirror image land.  There was a house in the distance that looked like her house, a forest to the west, (she checked the compass that was built into her watch to make sure), and another rose garden.  She started running toward the roses, a familiar sight.  The colors were so bright and vivid that they glowed in the early morning sun.  For the sun had certainly risen as she moved thru the Wall.  Was the passage of time the same here?


As she skidded to a stop in the dirt of the garden, she closed her eyes and breathed deeply of the gorgeous rose scent.  It was religious! And she heard something, very small, very dainty;  something like voices singing:


"You're finally here, hooray hooray, you're finally here HOORAY!"
And what was so funny is that it was  her sister's voice.


"Lana? Is that you?" Stacey asked hesitantly.


"Of course it is, don't you recognize my voice?"


"Yeesssss.  But it's like your voice times 10 thousand! All of the roses sound like you did and are talking like you at the same time!"


"Of course!" 10 thousand Lana's said, echoing about in the air.  "Here Stacey, take the petals from one flower, just like you did in our garden, and put them in your pocket.  Then you'll only hear one of me."


So Stacey chose the most beautiful of all, a lavender rose with a fuchsia flame.  As she grabbed the flower and started to pull, a different kind of voice spoke.  A deep boy voice saying,
"What the hell are you doing to my roses?"


to be continued........


**********************************

The Wall part 3

(When we last saw our hero Stacey, she had resolved to finish the task her recently dead sister had begun; to  conquer the wall that divided them from a better world)


.Stacey packed her special embroidery floss, a hoop, a smallish piece of muslin, a toothbrush, some beef jerky and a change of clothes for her long trip.  She had readied everything the night before, and now, lying in bed facing the new morning and her task, she contemplated beginning her journey.  The early birds were on the vine and the sun had not yet crested the tall trees of the eastern forest.


She had resolved the night before to try once and for all to subvert the massive angry wall that had killed her sister.  Whilst the smell of roses from the garden had permeated her room, she had had a strange dream.  In it she recalled an ancient and otherworldly skill her family happened to possess.  Legend had it that the only person to utilize the gift was  Stacey's great great great great grandmother  the time she found herself entrapped on all sides by a solid steel box.  She had focused her attention and turned her gaze inward to look upon her highest secret self.  And in this state she remade her physical body into a haze of golden light. Stacey's great great etc. grandmother  stood up from her squatting position and, facing a solid, insurmountable section of the box, simply walked right through it.  Yes to freedom!


And this was the brave Stacey's plan, this is the manner she had elected to try.  She was sure it would work.


She gathered her provisions and stepped out into the grey.


Coming around the back of the house, she passed through the rose garden, and, stopping to smell a coral colored beauty, she thought she heard her sister's voice.
"Hurry Stacey! The window will close, the time is now!"
"Sister? Is that you?"
"Yes Stacey, of course it's me! Strip this rose of it's petals and put them in your pocket and then hurry to the wall! Stand directly in front of the hole that I gouged in it, and then squat down.  You will know how to do the rest. But hurry, you haven't much time!"


As she rushed to the place her sister's voice had described, Stacey recalled that the family's legend had placed her great (etc.) grandmother's trial at just before sunrise.  That gave her a little more than 10 minutes to walk through that wall!


Seeing the gouged hole her sister had made in the wall gave Stacey a small shiver of despair and loneliness.  She missed her so much! 
Once her sister had been a vibrant human girl, laughing and singing.  Now she was a disembodied voice coming out of a rose! It wasn't fair.  She put a finger in the hole, it was cold and hard.  But by keeping her eye on it, she was able to position herself directly in front of it.  She knelt into the soft, wet grass.


Nothing seemed to happen at first.  Her eyes were closed, but it seemed as if a curtain were slowly being raised.  The light coming through her eyelids was growing brighter and brighter.


"Concentrate!" Her sister's voice spoke from the petals in her pocket.  "You are gold! You are made of earth, you are gold.  Gold is made of earth, you are gold.." the tiny voice urged.
"I am gold.  I am made of earth, I am gold.  Gold is made of earth, I am gold.."


And as Stacey spiraled ever inward, she became the earth and erased her self and she was no longer the little sister or the mongoloid or even "Stacey" at all but she was her highest self and she was GOLD.


Standing slowly, she  possessed a grace that was unusual and new.  Her eyes closed still, she moved toward the wall, her hand outstretched as if  clasping the hand of a loved one.  The wall seemed to move to meet her, so sure was her movement toward it.  And upon reaching it,  Stacey the brightest of golden spirits, moved effortlessly through it.  As through warm water, as though relaxing into a lover's arms she passed through and into the other side, leaving her home behind.


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to be continued......

The Wall part two

(When we left The Wall, the mongoloid sister, whose name was Stacey, was standing over the dead body of her elder sister.  Her sister had been trying to dig through a mammoth wall that divided their small family from the rest of "the world". Their grieving mother had just commanded Stacey to carry out her sister's mission)

Stacey stared at the wall, and her sister,  in disbelief.   Small pinpoints of tears in the corner of her eyes. Her sister, lying there, was cold and was not really anything anymore. She was a leaf.  An acorn hull.  She was Gone.

Stacey wasn't stupid.  She may have been a mongoloid, but she certainly was not stupid! The wall was angry at her sister for mutilating it's surface and it had killed her.  Simple.  There was no fucking way she'd try to finish her work!

Besides, Stacey had her own dreams: a small shop in which to sell embroidery.  She was a talented stitcher who could weave a fern frond into a fantastical design. If she concentrated hard enough, she could weave clouds together to form Celtic knot work in the sky. She would not leave her comfortable life for...something unknown.

Sad grey weeks went by, months went by and Stacey tried to pretend the wall wasn't there and that her sister never had lived at all.  It didn't work.  Her mother looked at her witheringly every night as they prayed to their saints.  It was difficult to take.

Because she had taken to sleeping in her vanished sister's untouched room, Stacey now slept with a clear view of the wall from her northern window.

The view of the wall was a daunting one, and Stacey wondered how her sister could have lived her short life with that  cold reminder so close.  And of course she had become obsessed with it!  It stretched bland and forbidding blocking the sky, allowing only a slant of late afternoon light into the room.  

What Stacey loved about this room, and knew in her heart what her sister had cherished, was the heady rose scent that began to fill the domicile as soon as the first bud opened in early June.  The rose garden was just to the right of the house, a small patch of beauty between their house and the forest. Stacey awoke to this gift, and wept as the scent seemed to stitch up her broken heart.

She was ready to see what was on the other side of the wall.

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To be continued.........

The Wall part one

Once there was a pretty enough girl who lived behind a really high wall.  Everyday even when it was rainy she would come out to look and sit at it's foot.  There were no chinks or crevasses or flaws in the wall; it was perfectly smooth and impenetrable.

She lived in a small house very close to the wall with her aged mother and mongoloid sister.  Her sister, younger than the girl, was called a mongoloid because she refused to believe a world outside of their small corner existed.  She had never seen it.  She had never smelt it or touched it with her groping hands - thus it did not exist.  This lit a fire under her sister, she realized that her life's mission was to prove to the younger girl that there really was a world out there worth looking for.  She had seen it in a dream, a fantastic and beautiful place that they could choose to live in, if they so desired.

Her typical ministrations at the wall became more intense. For instance instead of running a hand lightly over it's facade, she deliberately caressed the wall within preset measured quadrants.  Where once she had sat with her back to the wall gazing up at the sky, she now pressed her fingers into the grass at it's base, looking for an opening, an outlet, something.

You see, the wall was built before she was born, by beings who may no longer walk this earth.  But what was the wall keeping hidden from the girl?

Maybe she was wrong, maybe something monstrous lay beyond and the builders were simply smarter than she was.  They had done her a favor by placing it so prominently in her life.

Scaling the wall was forever out of the question.  It's substance was as smooth as still water and it's height! Well, the walls' top could simply not be seen.  It seemed to extend up into the sky itself.

One day the girl decided to use her pocket knife to gouge a hole in a discreet part of the Wall, the part directly outside her bedroom window, to the right of the rose garden.

She very carefully cut.  Cut, cut.  It was weird, cutting into the wall gave her the spooky feeling of cutting into her own flesh. But she persevered and by the end of the day, she had dug a tube about 3 inches deep.  Her knife really couldn't go much deeper.

Just as she was sitting back on her haunches to contemplate her work, a flaming rock fell from the sky, possibly thrown by the angels themselves.  At least that was what the elderly mother thought when she and the mongoloid sister discovered the girl's dead cold body.

"You must finish what you sister started!" the mother shouted in her grief.  "You must get through that wall!"

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