Aft Views

I heard the singing birds first.  I squinted and threw my hand across my face as a blaze of sunlight seeped under the edges of my eyelids.

“Welcome up, ” said a smooth, pleasant voice.

I fully opened my eyes and saw the Abbess looking down at me.  I turned my head first to one side, then to the other.  I was lying on the top of a low stone wall that surrounded a pond.  In the distance I could see a small columned building, shimmering white in the brilliance of the sun.

“I’m dead,” I flatly said.

“Well..” the Abbess cocked her head to one side in thought, “we best leave that discussion to another time.  How do you feel?” 

The sensation of the arrows hitting my body flooded back into my memory and I instinctively reached down to touch the places where the arrows had entered.  There were no wounds, none at all.

“Did you bring me back to life?”

“Did I what?”

“The arrows — I felt them — hurt like hell — then, I…. I died.”

“Really?”

“And you brought me back… you must have.”

“Darling one, I can do many things, but raising the dead is quite beyond my capabilities.  Why don’t you tell me what happened to you?”

I quickly told her about my experience with the Dryades and the Dark Stranger.   “I’m so, so sorry,” I added.  “I had no intention of bringing war and violence to Lemuria… please forgive me.”

The Abbess straightened her back for a moment, then relaxed and patted my arm.  “These things happen from time-to-time here — it is all for the purpose of bringing the pilgrim to this place, the next place upward.”

I sat up and swung my legs around on the stone wall.  “This was all planned?”

“It would appear so.”

“But I don’t get it — I mean I was trying to protect myself — the Dryades I mean — but I ended up getting all shot up.  It sorta defeated the purpose, don’t you think?”

“Sometimes we need to do painful things to protect the weak and vulnerable parts of our being… and to let others areas grow and emerge.  It is not pleasant sometimes, but it is necessary to move upward.”

“So I appeased the Dark Stranger?  Will it come back again?”

“Only when you need to grow and come up to the next place after this.”

“And what is this place?”

“It’s your destination.  Don’t you remember where you were going?”

“The Shrine of the Wandering Poet?”   I reached my hand to my pocket that contained the packet of lotus seeds.  “Yes, of course.  I came to plant my seeds.”

I pulled the packet out of my pocket and and unwrapped the cloth.   My heart sank when I opened it and found the seeds dislodged from the pod, some crushed and broken.  I remembered then what I had read about lotus seeds.  They are fragile and if damaged, they would not grow.

“I guess this trip was for nothing.”

The Abbess smiled.  “You do know what I’m going to say, don’t you?”

I chuckled and nodded. “That it’s not about the destination;  it’s about the journey?”

The Abbess nodded.  “Yes, but don’t worry….”  She turned towards the pond.  “….this I can do for you….”  She waved her hand over the edge of the pond.  Suddenly, a bud emerged from the water and blossomed into a perfect pink lotus.  Another popped up next to it, and soon another.  Within a matter of seconds, the entire surface of the pond was covered with thousands of perfectly formed lotus flowers.

Tears welled up in my eyes.   A wave of sweet bliss fell over me.  

“Thank you,” I whispered.

The Abbess wrapped an arm around my shoulders.  “Now, do you have a transport talisman?”

I pulled the chain with the walnut from my shirt.  The Abbess chuckled.  “A walnut?…. that E… she is so inventive….why don’t you use it to teleport back to the Abbey.  Get some rest.  Take as much time as you need. ”

“Thank you.  I could use a bit of a break.”

“But don’t get too comfortable… As I understand it, there’s going to be some sort of festive event at Rainbow Beach…. you’ll want to be there, I guess.”

“Oh, yes…. yes I will.”

The End

Image and Text:  L. Gloyd (c) 2009

I stood for a moment in front of the locked door.  I fingered the chain around my neck that held the walnut, the transport talisman.  I could end it all now by wishing my way back to the safety of the Vulcania.   No.  I dropped the talisman.  I knew I only had a few minutes before the Dryades discovered I was gone, and a single locked door would not keep them captive for long.  They would come looking for me and they would encounter the Dark Stranger.  I could not risk any more of them —  any more of me — being hurt or killed.   I had to take care of the Stranger to save myself and preserve the Peace of Lemuria.   In all good conscience, I could not allow the War to spill out of the forest.

I picked my way along a faint path away from the Keep.    It was hard to see in the clearing, but even harder when I breached the barrier of the first stand of trees.   A sticky darkness fell upon me.   My legs felt heavy, like I was trying to walk through water.   I came to a small break in the trees and brush and stopped to catch my breath.  My arm still throbbed with pain.

I heard a snap of a twig and a rustle ahead of me.   I froze and stared at the gray and black patterns of the trees, straining to see any movement.

Then I felt the hair of my neck and arms stand up.   I sensed something, or someone, disturb the air behind me.  It was not warm like a person, but an intense cold.   I could envision the Stranger inches from my back, waiting for me to turn.   I took a deep breath and complied.

Nothing.  The clearing was empty.  I sighed with relief.  Maybe I was imagining all of this.  Maybe it was all just a dream after all.  I swung back around to continue my way through the forest.

Its face was inches from mine, a swirling dark mist with lifeless black holes where eyes should be.   It had teeth, yellow jagged stubs as if broken by the tearing and ripping of tough flesh.    And it stank — oh, how it stank — like the smell of forgotten food left unattended too many days in the back of the refrigerator.

I shouted something — I don’t remember what — and jumped away.   A sudden rush of adrenaline stabbed through my torso and I felt my heart banging like it was going to burst.   But, the creature did not move.  It stood there.  I wondered if it was waiting for me to make the first move.

But what?  What was I supposed to do? Balanis said that it could not comprehend language.

Nevertheless, I called out.  “I know what you want.”   The creature still remained motionless.

“I understand the message.  I’m sorry.   I haven’t taken care of myself and it has disturbed you.  I promise, I really promise, that I will take better care of myself and you can go back to sleep.”

The Stranger made a slight motion away from me.

This might work, I thought.    But then I noticed something out of the corner of my eye and I turned to look.  Another creature stood a few yards away on my right.  I shifted my head in the other direction and saw two more creatures flanking my left.   I did not need to turn around to see the others standing behind me.  I felt them.

Then,  quietly they raised their bows.    I saw each one slowly cock an arrow.  It was as if I was in a movie being run in half-motion.

You would think at this moment that I would be in a panic.  I was surrounded by hostile energy bent on destroying me —  but the fear had vanished from me.   Maybe it was just that rush of endorphins that is said to overcome the bodies of animals just as the predator strikes its killing blow.   I struggled to keep focused.  In the meandering flow of my now slowing thoughts,  it occurred to me that this was all meant to happen.  The Dark Stranger, the Wild Thing within, in all its many manifestations, was just as much in danger as the Dryades.  It was doing what it needed to do to survive.   Every part of me had the right to live — every part of me deserved to be protected and nurtured and allowed to manifest.  The Dark Stranger was not evil.  It was the source of my power and the very life force within me.   I needed to let it come forth.

I stepped to the center of the circle and said with a calm voice, “Do what you need to do.”

The last thing I remember was the slam of a half dozen arrows into my body.

L. Gloyd (c) 2009

“They came on us so fast…bullets don’t seem to stop them” said Syke.

“Them?” asked Balanis.

“There’s a lot of them now.  We couldn’t tell how many. They were shooting arrows faster than we could fire our weapons.”   Syke looked down at the body of the woman  “Then one hit Karya…there was nothing we could do….” Syke’s voice broke.

I pushed myself against the wall, too stunned to say anything.   Something was dawning on the edge of my understanding and my heart sank.   Kraneia patted the weeping Syke on the shoulder, and Balanis said with a soft voice, “Why don’t you take Karya into the back room.   It’s getting dark.   We’ll….take care of her tomorrow.”

The two women gently lifted the body and moved into the back room.  Morea had said nothing.  She still had her eyes leveled on me, her fists clenched at her side.

“Morea,” said Balanis.  She did not move.  “MOREA” she said again, “why don’t you take the first watch upstairs.”   Morea hesitated for a moment, then moved off and up the stairs.

Balanis turned her attention to a large stone fireplace near the rear of the room.  A stack of kindling was piled next to it.  She started stuffing bits of it onto the hearth.  I left my place against the wall and approached her.  “Tell me everything.  No more questions….”

Balanis found a flint and struck it over the kindling.  A spark jumped and caught hold.  She bent to blow on it.  Within moment a fire roared to life. Then she sat back on the hearth.

“Alright.  I’ll tell you everything….”  She motioned for me to sit.

“You know that the forest is within you.  It’s a part of you.   And you are aware that the Dark Stranger is a messenger.  This much you have told me.   But, what I don’t think you understand is that you have been ignoring the Dark Stranger’s message.  Because you are ignoring it,  parts of you are dying.”

“I don’t understand.”

“For years you have not taken care of your own spirit;  and now, to make matters worse, you are letting others — those in your outer world — hurt you and take advantage of you.  And each time you let them do that and each time you ignore your own well-being, a little bit of you dies.”

Then I realized.  “Karya is a part of me. You are all a part of me!”

“Exactly. And because of your neglect and your ignorance, there is a war waging in your soul.  Because of you, there is death.”

We both sat in silence.  Balanis added a length of wood to the fire. It popped and snapped and sparks rose up.

Finally, I cried out,  “No. This is not my fault. I tried to make friends with it.  I tried to acknowledge it! ” I whined.

Balanis rose to her feet.   “You CAN’T make friends with it.  Don’t you understand that?   It doesn’t comprehend.  It’s the wild part of your being and it cannot be reasoned with.”   She picked up her pack, pulled out a blanket and threw it on the floor.

“Then what do I do?” I whispered.

Balanis laid down on the blanket and said, “Get some sleep.  I’m sure something will come to you.”  Then she rolled over and said no more.

I don’t know how much time passed. I sat against the wall staring at the fire for a long time.   Syke and Kraneia kept vigil with Karya in the back room. Balanis slept on the floor beside the fire and Morea was upstairs at her post.  I pondered what Balanis said for a long time and then came to the conclusion that she was right — absolutely and completely right.

Finally, Balanis awakened and sat up. She called to Morea, “Come on down, M., and get some sleep.  I’ll take the next watch.”   She started to rise.

“No,” I said.  “I’ll do it.  You two need more sleep than I do right now…after everything you’ve done for me….the least I could do is take a watch.”   Morea and Balanis stared at me for a moment, then Balanis shrugged her shoulders and said,   “Fine. Syke will relieve you in a couple of hours.”

I went upstairs and settled down next to the window.  There was no moon and I could barely see the line of trees across the clearing.  And it was cold — so cold.   I knew they…it…was out there in the blackness of the forest.

After a while, when I could hear the even breathing of Balanis and Morea and I knew they were completely asleep, I tiptoed back downstairs and went to the door.

Good.   Balanis had kept the key in the door lock.  With extreme slowness I turned the key.  The lock clicked. I looked back at the sleeping women.  They had not stirred. I prayed that the door would not creak when I opened it.  It did not and I was quickly through it.   I shut the door and locked it from the outside.

Now, I knew what I had to do.

To be continued.

L. Gloyd (c) 2009

I looked Balanis straight in the eye.  “I was just minding my own business, heading through the forest on my way to the shrine, when that…that THING started shooting arrows at me.”

I struggled to my feet.   Balanis stepped back from me.   “I didn’t ask you or your friends to start firing back with…with ASSAULT weapons… holy mother…where in the world did you get those anyway?”

“You conjured them,” Balanis quietly replied.

I reached up to my wrapped shoulder.  It throbbed.   Balanis pulled a piece of fabric out of her pack and began tying its ends together.

“For the second and last time,” I said with slow deliberation, “I am not responsible for this.”    Morea looked up from the fire she tended and glared at me.

Balanis continued, “Do you  know anything about the Dark Stranger?”

“Well, yeah…. the Dark Stranger is a harbinger — in dreams — that a person is ready to reach a new level of understanding…..”

Balanis stepped towards me with the tied cloth.  “See if you can slip your arm through here…..a harbinger… yes, I suppose you can look at it that way.”    I sucked in my breath and slowly worked my arm through the sling.  Balanis adjusted it until my arm rested against my side.

“So what do you think it’s purpose is — this Dark  Stranger?” I countered.

Before she could reply,  Karya,  Syke and Kraneia came crashing through the brush into the campsite.  “It’s coming!” shouted Karya.

Balanis gripped my good elbow and began to push me along.  She shouted back to the others.   “Stand your ground here until I can get her to the Keep.   Hold it here as long as you can!”

Before I could say another word, we were pushing through the jungle, leaves and vines whipping us in the face.  I felt nauseous as waves of pain flooded through me.  We stumbled over lose stones in the rutted trail that led us upward and deeper into the trees.  I fell, banging my knees on the sharp outcroppings in the path.   I could hear gunfire rip through the air from the direction of the camp.  Balanis’ voice became more urgent, “C’mon, c’mon, you’ve got to keep moving.”

Finally, we came into a clearing at the top of a hill.  A small stone building with the broken down remnants of a look-out tower came into view.  Balanis pushed open the door with her free hand and shoved me through.   She slammed the door in place and pulled out an ancient iron key from the lock.

She clambered up the stairs into the tower.  I followed behind, gripping the wall as I worked my way up the stairs.   I saw Balanis rush to the tower window, pull her rifle from off her shoulder and rest the barrel on the sill.   Another volley of gunfire erupted from the woods, but it seemed closer now.

“They’re coming.  Get behind me and keep your head down,” she ordered, raising her voice over the shooting.  The volley continued for several minutes until suddenly, the gunfire ceased.  There was a long moment of silence.   Then, a long, agonized wail rose from the woods.  “NO! No……”

Balanis whispered, “Karya?”  She pushed by me and rushed back down the stairs.  She fumbled with door and yanked it open.

Morea burst through the doorway first.  Kraneia and Syke followed holding a motionless Karya between them.  Tears streamed down Syke’s face.

Morea looked at Balanis and said with a choked voice, “She’s dead.”

Then her eyes focused on me and she said again, with more force.  “She’s DEAD!”

to be continued.

L. Gloyd

I heard whispers at first –women’s voices — “Why did she do it?”……”….crazy……”….”now, be fair….”

My eyes felt like they were swollen shut, but I opened them nevertheless. Mercifully, the dark pall of the forest was a relief this time. I rolled slightly to one side and stopped as a fiery stab of pain shot through my shoulder.

“Balanis, she’s awake.” I heard the crunch of leaves underfoot and then a hand on my other shoulder.

“Don’t move just yet. You’ll re-open the wound. The arrow tore out a big hunk of flesh but didn’t hit any bone. Lucky for you.”

“Yeah….,” I rasped, “lucky me.” I blinked my eyes at the woman’s face above me. She was fair skinned, youngish, but with experience showing in her gray eyes. She had a helmet on, like something that I had seen in an old photo from World War II. I turned my head and saw four other women:  three sitting on a fallen log, another tending a tiny camp fire. They were all dressed in camouflaged fatigues and boots.  Each had a rifle slung over an arm or propped against the log.   The woman over me, Balanis, lifted my head and pressed a leather canteen to my lips.   I took a sip of cold water.

“Did the Abbess send you?” I asked.   The woman tending the fire laughed.

“That’s enough, Morea,” snapped Balanis.  “No, we are not from the Abbey.”

“Who are you then?”

“Dryades.”

“What?  Like out of Greek mythology.”

Now Balanis laughed.  “Well, I guess so.”

“Dressed in camos?”

One of the women sitting on the log replied, “Whadja expect? Something out of a Xena episode?”

“Yeah, sorta.”  I shot back.  I looked back at Balanis, who seemed to be the one in charge.  “Are you the ones responsible for saving me?”

“Yes… can you sit up?”   Balanis put her arm behind my back and helped me rise.

I grimaced, then said, “Thank you.  I appreciate what you did back there.  But I didn’t quite expect to get caught in a fire-fight.  I didn’t think that sort of thing was  allowed in Lemuria.”  I eyed the rifles.

“No, it’s not allowed.”

“Lady, are you in trouble now,” chirped another of the women.  The one sitting next to her chimed in as well, “Yeah, the Abbess is gonna have your backside for sure.”

Balanis tossed the canteen to one of the women.  “Karya, take Syke and Kraneia down to the stream and get some fresh water.  We need to get a move on soon.”  The three women rose and moved off, grumbling and whispering as they departed.

I said to Balanis, “What do they mean?  If violence is not allowed, then why was I attacked?  And why are you here with all these guns?  Guns in Lemuria?”

“We’re here because of you.”

“Me?  I’m not responsible for this.”

“Yes, you are.”

To be continued.

L.  Gloyd (c) 2009

I picked my way along. The path was obscured by overgrown shrubs and fallen leaves and I had a hard time seeing it.     The dense forest canopy kept out not only the sun but the breeze as well, and the air was completely without movement.   It was like being covered by a heavy blanket, and I had difficulty taking a breath.

It was also quiet.  There were no birds calling.  I would expect in a tropical jungle like this to hear shrieking monkeys and see them swinging from limb to limb, but there was no movement or sound of any kind except those of my trudging feet.   My heart began to race, which was odd since my pace was slow, and I felt the hairs an my neck standing up.

“This is ridiculous,”  I said.  I hoped the sound of my own voice would alleviate my increasing apprehension.

“There is no reason to be scared.  Look, this is just a forest — a bunch of trees– and this is Lemuria, for goodness sake, and this forest is just… it’s just a representation of your unconscious.”   I tried to remember what I had read in the past about Jungian archetypes and dream interpretations.  “Yeah, the forest represents your unconcious and you’re just dreaming.  You’re probably asleep right now back home and you’ll wake up any minute.”

I heard a rustle  to my right, about ten yards away.  I stopped dead and stared at a large bunch of giant taro plants.  Their waxy green leaves were still.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.  Just the sound of an animal.  Finally, some normal jungle noises.”  I took a step forward but kept an eye on the place where I head the noise.  Then I heard the snap of wood to my left.

“Who’s there!” I spun towards the sound.

A figure leaned against the mottled gray trunk of a banyan.   I could not see the person’s features.  In fact, he — or she — was completely black and had a fuzzy quality as if it was not altogether materialized.    Before I could say another word, the shadow figure disappeared in front of me, seemingly  downward into the immense bulging roots of the banyan.

I gasped and tensed to run.  Then something occurred to me:   I had run from the faceless conductor at the train station on Temple Island.  I had tried to escape from the megalodon on Cetea’s Revenge.    I seemed to be always trying to evade the dark parts of my psyche.  Not this time.  I turned towards the place where the figure had disappeared.

“Excuse me.  Can we talk?”

There was no response.

“I know who you are.   You’re the Dark Stranger.  You’re  part of me.   I know that whenever I see you, then I’m about to move up to a new level of understanding. ”

I heard a rustle in the brush.

“Yeah, c’mon on out.  I’m on way to the Shrine of Wandering Poets.  You wanna come?  It’ll be fun.”

I heard a soft ping followed by a swoosh.    An arrow rushed past my ear and lodged with a quivering thunk in the tree behind me.

I’m being shot at?  Holy crud!   No, no, no, I will not be afraid.  I can’t be hurt here.   I raised my arms half-way up in front of my body and took a step towards the place where the arrow came.

“Look, dude,  let’s just talk about this, okay?  No need to shoot at me.  How about I buy you a cup of coffee.  I hear there’s a great little cafe next to the Shri—”

I felt the impact of the arrow before I felt the pain.  I fell back a step and reached my hand to my shoulder.   Blood was already oozing out of the gash and a searing pain radiated down my arm.

“What are you doing!!!”   I don’t know if I got an answer because I was already on the run.   Instinctively, I headed for cover and tore through the thicket of giant taro leaves.  Another arrow swooshed by.    I heard movement behind me.     I pushed through the low hanging vines and branches wishing that I had brought a machete with me, if not for the brush, then at least as a weapon.

My foot caught on the bulge of a tree root and I hit the ground with agonizing crash.  Blood from my wound was flowing freely now.  I rolled on my back and saw blue sky through a break in the canopy.

Then the loud crack of gunfire erupted out of the darkness.  I covered my head  This is too much. Then another volley of fire thundered.   I knew I had to get out of there.  I struggled to my feet but I felt weak and swooney.  I’m loosing too much blood.

Then a firm grip caught me under under my armpit and I heard a woman’s voice.

“C’mon, we gotta get out of here.”

(to be continued)

Text and image:  L. Gloyd (c) 2009