Back to the Beginning?...
Or perhaps to my main site?
"Yes."
Her world was simple. She worked as a nurse at a local hospital. The evening shift was her preferred schedule. Three days on, four days off. They were twelve hour days, but the extra time she had off made it all worth it. She had an active social life. She had a boyfriend, after so many years. Her daughter had just gotten married. Her youngest now had a boyfriend. He seemed like such a nice young man too. They made a perfect couple. She was active in local conservation groups. She even found time to pursue her spiritual life now. Her acceptance of totems into her life, as guides, teachers and examples gave her a clarity of purpose she had ben lacking for decades. She liked her life.
What was this then?
"Darkness..."
A static filled the air. There was an electric feel, or taste, once she saw him go through his so called "shift". That was unexpected. He spoke in half sentences, words pulled out of nowhere, meanings obscure. It was almost as though she were the butt of some cosmic practical joke. He swayed like he was possessed, like she'd seen in some new age seminars. "Channeling" of spirits. She almost thought it was some sort of hoax, or some kind of self-hypnosis. Maybe he really did believe he was this Raven. Then, something changed. At first it was subtle, like a rustling of the leaves on a quiet day. Things just took an odd state to them, as though the focus were adjusted just a tiny bit, just enough to make you wonder if it had been tampered with. She had a moment to reflect on this. One moment.
"...indeed."
It was almost like he sighed, and with him, a piece of reality sighed as well. She was suddenly entirely too aware of herself sitting there, like someone had hit her with a million static charges. The goose pimples rose all over her body. She felt the need, the primal urge to just run, to get as far AWAY as possible. She was fond of existance as she knew it. Until this point, she thought she understood how this thing called "life" worked. She knew her place in the universe. Even having a totemic belief system did not rock her concept of existance. What she felt now, she knew was a Bad Thing. But she could not move. She could not cry out to Deer, to the sky, to her daughters, to her God. When it raised its eyes to meet hers, she began to weep, but no sound escaped her lips. She knew she was about to die.
Doris watched as the young man she had meet a year ago, raised his head, his breathing now smooth, and looked at her with eyes as black as night. The color was still green, or so she thought, but as windows to the soul, all they reflected was a dark shadow. They might as well have been pits to hell. No words, no riddles, no evasions came from its lips. His body seemed less rigid now, he sat up, craned his neck and looked around the situation, as though for the first time, again. Those eyes scanned as though taking in every bit of soul from the place, filtering it for information then spitting it back out. When they rested on her again, she closed her eyes and prayed.
"Do not be afraid."
She opened her eyes, hoping someone had stumbled along, that this nightmare was over. But he/it was there, looking at her with this ... corrupt pity on its face.
"Do not be afraid." The voice was so serene, so... atypical. She expected a hoarse rasp, a voice that could chill blood. This was so much worse. "You will not come to harm."
She gaped her mouth open. He tongue felt dry, words would not appear. She swallowed, trying to get out some kind of response. Something, anything, if only to beg mercy. The chill in her bones grew with each minute. She felt her bladder about to explode. He hands trembled like leaves.
"Please..." she managed to utter, "please don't."
She knew that was not enough, but was all she could manage.
A wry grin creeped across his face, its face. She didn't know what "it" was. It was once her friend and fellow, James. He followed Raven. They used to talk about spiritual issues once every few months. He said that he knew a few so called tricks, that he could somehow manifest his totem here, so it could speak and interact. He explained it as a sort of ecstatic event, like something a shaman might pursue. Half truths. She had met shamans, medicine men. There was nothing of *this* in anything she had ever seen in all her seminars and sweats.
He rose up, still on his knees, but not kneeling down anymore. She felt she might truly faint if it got up, if it approached. This was not her friend she saw before her anymore. She felt like nothing more than prey, a plaything. She felt very small in this instant. Like the universe loomed over her, looking down, disapproving. Reality had taken the oppotunity to remind her how insignificant she really was. She wished, for the first time, she was like the blind masses she used to ridicule in passing. The ones who had no idea, who followed blindly the beliefs and ideas their fathers and mothers fed them. She wished, she wished... she was anywhere but here.
The young man from which such terror sprang leaned back again. His dark eyes now true pits of black nothing, windows to a void from which no living being should tread. Those eyes fell on Doris again and again, like hammers on her very being, her very existance. She was beyond terror, she could not evern describe it anymore. It was like being caught in a blizzard; after a time, it becomes so cold, the actual temperature becomes irrelevant. The body simply cannot register after a certain point. She did not imagine fear could be like this. Those eyes tore into her, took her apart. They peeled the essence of her being, layer by layer, until she was totally exposed to him. Nothing carnal, no, this was much worse. They saw into the core of her being. There were no so called auras now, no spiritual energy, only existance at the purest level, crossing all boundaries. The man-raven knew the fear in her heart. It knew the love as well. It knew her devotion to her spirit guides. But these things were irrelevant. It searched only for strength, for purpose. Could she serve?
"You cry to your ancestors. They do not hear you. We feel their reluctance. Would you have them come to you?"
She did not understand his words. They seemed spoken around her, through her, rather than to her. She muttered a sob for a response. She had run out of tears, her mouth dry as though full of cotton.
The face of the young man nodded, then another grin flowed across its face. Movements now, instead of being rough and jerky, were smooth, almost too smooth. Almost as though every tug of a muscle were a dance, and art form to be perfected. It kneeled down again, placing its hands before it, and craned that neck forward in what would normally be a position far too uncomfortable to maintain, and it... exhaled.
She felt as though smacked by the face of a hot wind. Her hair remained still, she felt no real wind, but the heat was intense. It burned her eyes, even though her lids were closed. It coursed through her lungs, from there into every vein. She felt the fire travel through every portion of her body. She screamed. She thought she screamed. Could one emit noise when one stops breathing air? Surely the air was on fire, she thought. Her hands spread, trying to block the hot wind, but she felt them begin to melt. In a flicker of a second, she heard the word, "Push," and her body tensed.
She was so hungry. All she could think about was food. She blinked a moment. Without really thinking about it, she looked up. Something moving in the distance. She sniffed the air. Sniffed? It took her a moment to realize something was not quite right. She should be better able to see than this. Her vision was 20/20. Things were so blurry at a distance now. She could smell far too much. Yes, too much. Grass didn't have such a particular... fragrance before. There were far too many cues in the air. She turned back to eating... grass? Why would she be eating grass? She couldn't really stop herself. It just tasted... right. She came to the foregone conclusion something was not quite right here.
Doris tried to rub her face, to move her hands, stand up. She could not. It was like she was a passenger. She was watching some show, but one in which she was THERE. She was here. She saw through these eyes, felt with this skin, reacted to the world through these senses. She began to take in her new world, the sense of panic subsiding enough to let her explore without fear. Well, too much fear.
The first thing she noticed as she grazed (grazed?), were her feet. They were not there. She had no feet. She had no hands. She knew she was on all fours, but where hands should be were two hoofs. Black, pointed, dainty, like little deer hoofs. Up from those were these little sticklike legs covered in this tanish brown fur. She took in the implication of this. She was distracted by the twitching of her tail. (Tail?) Suddenly, her head snapped up. She knew she heard something. Off to her left. It was a light wooded area. Lots of underbrush, lots of places to hide. She felt very very alone right now.
A smell. Faint, growing stronger. She only detected it now because the breeze shifted. A musky odor. Like wet dog. Dog? No, not dog. Something more feral. Wolves. She suddenly felt herself jump and seemingly fly through the underbrush to her left, away from the wolf-smell. She never knew she could move so fast and so precisely through such tight quarters. She barely saw some of the bushes she lept over. At some point, she stopped. She felt exhausted, but the smell was gone. She took a moment to examine her surroundings. The light forest had opened up a bit. She could smell water not far away. She never really knew water had a smell. She heard the babble of a small stream. She was parched. With quick steps, she made her way carefully to the brook. It felt so natural, being here, in this body. It was like a old glove. She felt she was a passenger, but everything flowed in the right way. She belonged here.
The water was crisp and cool. It felt odd sticking her muzzle into the stream to drink. When she brought her head up she knew it was too late. She never heard them. She only smelled them at the last second. They were everywhere at once. She felt the tug on her legs. She tried to kick, but only succeeded in twisting her torso around, and falling onto her side. She craned her neck up, and bleated in panic. No scream came out, only a mournful cry. She could see the wolves now, all around her, closing fast. Two were at her rump, one seemed to already be eating her leg, pulling at the skin. (Eating?!) She felt the hot breath of another wolf as it gripped her neck and began to tear. Her bleats became ragged, wet. She knew she was bleeding internally now. She felt a tugging at her belly. She felt... tired, so tired. Her head collapsed back, her tongue hanging out of the side of her mouth. She could still see, still smell, and hear, but things were so muted now. It was like a great wind was passing over her, like things were becoming too grey. So tired. She knows she did not close her eyes, but everything became black. Everything stopped. It was over.
Slowly she opened her eyes. No, that wasn't quite right, was it? She knew her eyes were open though. Yet she saw nothing. Was she blind? She fought down a moment of panic? Was she back at the clearing? No. Something was not right. She felt no real sense of urgency about not being able to see. It felt, normal. Taking a moment to review her surroundings, she tried to feel about her. Instead she suddenly had a sense of profound... tiredness. Her bones ached, her muscles were stiff, far far beyond her years. She began to sniff (sniff?) the air around her. There was a slight breeze coming from somewhere. The air carried many scents, different from the forest though. These were dank, but cool. There was little life in these scents. There was no sound here, except the sound of her quickly beating heart, and her joints as they cracked and popped while she stretched her long (long?) body. Her whiskers twitched slightly, feeling the sides of her burrow. Was she underground? She marvelled at the idea.
She rolled slowly out of a nest of fur and grass and began to slowly make her way through a warren of tunnels. Again, it seemed, she was along for the ride, in a body not hers, but one she felt perfectly at home in. It was totally dark, and the silence was such as she'd never seen before. She felt a terrible hunger, but knew somehow there was no food. She would have to wait. So many things came to her as though she had merely forgotten them for a time. Close ahead now, was the entrance, rather, an entrance to the burrow she called her winter home. She felt the cold now. She could not see out the opening. Snow covered it completely. She thought for a moment that she might try to dig out the small portal, but kept on moving, down one tunnel, into the next, on and on. Eventually, not quite sure how, she wound up back in her little nest. She fell asleep, and dreamed of field mice a plenty, of numerous nooks and cranies to hide in, of kits to raise.
She awoke and went through the same routine over and over. The winter kept on. She never knew if it was day or night. She never knew how long her little circuit of the tunnels took. She never knew how long she slept. Each time after the route, she felt more tired, more hungry, more weary.
She curled up in her little nest again. Her joints were not happy. There was a pain in her lower abdomen, or what she figured would be her lower abdomen. A dull throbbing sensation that would not go away. After some time she noted she did not need to relieve herself here. Like many things though, she did not find this disturbing. She figured it was a normal part of hibernation, if this was what she was going through. Torpor perhaps. This time, the pain was quite bad. She was not sure what she could do about it. She felt very small, very hungry. She began to doubt if she would make it to see the spring. Normally, food was not an issue, she felt. She remembered the autumn as being a rather rough time. (remembered?) Her claws and teeth ached, she was not as fast as used to be. Perhaps, she wondered, she was getting old?
She faintly remembered a time, long ago, her kits clustered around her, everything new to them in the world. These were happy times. She remembered summers of tall grass. Drenching rain flushing out burrows of all their inhabitants. She remembered eagles and hawks always on the lookout for a small furry meal, such as herself. She flexed her little pawpads, at least as much as she could. She was brought back from her reverie by stiffening joints. She nuzzled into her nest, with her memories to keep her warm. Slowly she drifted off to sleep, where no pain could give her troubles. To where prey was plenty, and dens were warm. She drifted off to where all such as her go, in the silent dark, for the last time.
The heat. She noticed the heat. It was as though she had awoken from a daydream, a slight nudge to remind her to pay attention. Doris looked around, but she saw only fields of high grass, and an endless expanse of Bison. Bison? She snorted. (snorted?) She looked around, but her vision seemed lacking. She knew they were there though. Millions of them. She could smell them. She could travel for days in any direction still be surrounded by her brothers, sisters, cousins, all of them part of a giant herd. They moved like clouds through the sky over their open prairies. She felt very happy here. Life was simple. There were no distractions. Except for her calf.
She sniffed about for him. He was close, no doubt playing with other calves, as is their way. She felt pride in him, at least, as much pride as she could. He was growing fast, and would turn out to be a strong bull. She snorted again and went back to grazing.
The grasses were dry, she noted with some dismay. She felt herself a connoiseur of the brush suddenly. She snorted with mild enjoyment at the thought. The herd was moving north. Raising her head, she looked in that direction. She smelled the water, the rains. The grasses would be greener, sweeter. Slowly, every so slowly, they chased fresh grazing. The cycle was all she knew, even as she knew it was something she was only coming to realize for the first time. The seasons were the constant in her life. Even her calves grew and left her, but the herd and the search for grazing land remained. She drew some sort of solace at this thought.
She slowly licked her nose, sniffing the air again. How odd she thought, to find such contentment at such seemingly simple pleasures. But how were they simple? What was she comparing them to? Doris, the Bison cow? She licked her nose again and sniffed about for her calf. She knew what was important. There was a strange odor in the air. She smelled some strange animal about. She also smelled the panic musk of her kin. Some of the herd was stampeding. Looking about, those closest were calm, but aware as she was of the strange tension that had set in. There was no evidence of stampede near them though. She let loose a low call, urging her calf to return close to her, to safety. Other mothers were doing the same, the calves oblivious to any danger. They heeded their summons quickly though. She licked her calf's muzzle sweetly. He returned her love by nuzzling under her jaw, then quickly moved to her rear and began feeding.
The stampede could be heard now. Something else could be heard as well. The sound of thunder. She was confused. The sun was high, no rain fell, but still she heard thunder. The air was full of scents as well. Panic, dust, strange odors, all served to confuse her. She recognized one of the strange smells, but for some reason, could not remember how she knew it. She knew she should not, but felt intimately familiar with it. Something was burning, a brushfire? No, not the smell of burning grass. Something else, something faint. The thunder continued. She knew that the rains brought lightning and thunder, which always led to brushfires. But this was different. Almost before she realized it, she was running. The whole herd around her was moving quickly, the panic was like a haze in her mind. She kept her calf close, but ran almost blindly over a small series of hills. The thunder was closer. It was almost deafening.
She ran near the outer edge of the herd. Ahead of her, one of the other mothers suddenly lurched and fell. She had to dodge to evade tripping over the fallen one. Why would one of us fall?, she managed to think. Her kind were very sure footed. More and more she noticed others falling suddenly. They lay, and moved no more, while others bellowed their death cries. Always the thunder, more thunder. There were strange beasts shadowing the herd now. They were predators, they had the smell of the hunt on them. They were the ones who burned. It hung upon them like a musk. They felt none of the panic at the thunder that her kin did. She bellowed for her calf to stay close, and kept running. All she knew now was to run. She knew the danger, but could not say why. She only knew to run.
She heard something strange now. Flies, or mosquitos. Odd buzzing, quick and sharp. She only became more and more confused, the scents, the sounds, the panic, all a cacophony serving to drive her on, ever on. Even her calf forgotten now. She ran, that was all there was.
Something bit her. She stopped. The pain was almost non-existant, but she could no longer run. For a brief moment, she saw the herd race past her, she saw another fall, crashing into the sparce grass, sending up a plume of dust as it thrashed it's final defiance. She saw her own calf circle back, curiosity in it's eyes as to why they stop, instead of run. He probably thought this was just another game. She almost forgot about the fact that she had stopped moving. The world tilted though. She was lying on the grass, on her side. She knew she was kicking out, trying to right herself, but for some reason, her back legs did not seem to move. She tried to lift her head up, with the hope that she could rock herself up. She heard more flies, followed by sharp pain in her belly. She cried out, her tongue lolling out of her mouth. She felt a haze drop over her vision. The thunder was deafening now. She saw her calf looking over her, nuzzling her. She tried to lick his nose, but she could not control her jaw. Suddenly her calf sprinted away. She felt some kind of sadness at this, among all the panic, and pain. She soon knew the reason why he left. One of the beasts was close. It's smell was almost overpowering. She heard the thunder one last time, so close it shook her body with it's power. She felt, rather than saw, the world grow dark. Her calf was gone. So was the hurt.
Doris opened her eyes. There was no fire, her hands were unburned. Her breathing was regular. Her eyes were dry, until she realized what she had seen. She had died three times. Each of her totems had lived, and died, and she had been a part of that each moment, that final moment. The sorrow set, the sense of loss. She knew why Bison cried. She knew why Weasel was so rushed, why Deer was so fidgety. The only light was from the stars above. The lantern had gone out. She saw James lying prone on the blanket. His breathing was ragged again, and he did not move at all. A numbness coursed through her in that moment. Had it all been real? Did this really happen. She closed her eyes, and saw the images burned onto the backs of her eyelids fresh as the day they happened. She simply did not have anymore tears anymore. She felt no emotion. She felt dead, inside. A death of the spirit and of the soul.
James began to stir. Panic filled her. She closed her eyes and wished him away, wished herself to the car, wished she had never come out here this night. He rose up, said something, moved around, began to approach. Something inside her snapped. She ran, her legs rubbery, but obeying finally. She ran, screaming through the dark woods. She had come this way many times, she knew the way. She slammed into the drivers side door of the car. She rolled around, looking back. But he had not followed her. She checked her pockets for the keys, and in that moment wondered if she had left them at the clearing. But the jingle eased tension. The familiar roar of the engine on the first try, the plume of dust as she tore down the road to highway 79, all these things were behind her now. It was over, she thought to herself. She allowed herself a quick smile.
The nightmares came. Endlessly repetitive. Death over and over. She could not reconcile her totems, her spiritual guides having lived, died, and her having been privy to it, an actual part of it. She was *there*. She died each time she saw one of them die. Over and over, lifetime after lifetime, they died, different ways, different means, but she was there each time. Each animal's lifetime was hers to experience. The original three over and over, but new ones as well. A multitude to torment her seemingly until the end of time. Animal after animal took her on a journey she could not refuse. In the darkness, when she was vulnerable, they came, showing her what she least wanted to see. She was a person who lived life for life's sake! She had grown to love all the creatures under the sun, why was she constantly shown the very end of things. That ultimate final moment, that ultimate horror. She struggled, she fought, but the end was inevitable, the darkness came each time, and she cried out in terror, pain, and shock each time.
She tried wine, her senses were dulled. But the visions came in those few lucid moments, in the corners of her eyes, just as she was about to forgot where they were. She tried vodka, but as her eyes closed, as her brain felt thick from the stupor, they were there.
Her guides had abandoned her. They did not speak to her anymore. Nothing she did, no prayer she said, no offering she made seemed to placate them. She felt cursed. So she cursed them back. She railed against them until she was hoarse and could scream no more. She threw curses at James, at the Raven, at herself for agreeing to join him in his descent into what surely must be hell.
At some point, she took a co-workers advice, and sought counselling. She wound up unburdening herself of the whole story. She felt for a moment like the world was about to realign itself. The nice doctor listened with seeming care, like her pain truly mattered. Then he prescribed the drugs. Finally, she could sleep dreamless, or at least, she did not remember them upon awakening. Her eyes became listless. She read the newspaper daily. She continued to go to her sessions, continued to attend the presbyterian church where the preacher was just so nice. She found work dull, life dull. She forgot about James eventually. She forgot about many things.
Her garden needed such tending these days. Row and row of flowers, hedges, trees, all in need of pruning and constant care. The seasons were harsh, weeds and excess growth had to be taken care of, much work to be done. She loved her gardening. The winter brought death, stasis. The spring brought renewal. The cycle continued. Sometimes she would totally replant, on a whim. She enjoyed a little change now and then. New variations, new possibilities. It felt... right, somehow.
Occasionally, she would look up from her gardening, and think to recall
something, some half memory, some fragment, some echo, but it would
flitter away, like the butterflies in her backyard.
Back to the Beginning?...
Or perhaps to my main site?