Cuckoo

The rain-soaked forest

Raindrops fell deeply from the dark mass of cedar fronds which overhung Lazar’s path home. Night was closing in and the shadowy forest was lit only in clearings by the heavy grey cloud overhead. It had been a full day of walking for the ageing woodsman, a journey of many miles to see his sister for one last time. He’d whistled and sung on his journey, stopped to drink at a tumbling stream and had sat on a rock to eat; but now the only sounds were the dull clump of his boots and the soft seething patter of droplets on earth.
    Tired as he was, his ankles complaining, he trudged and he traipsed over roots and stiff bracken, using his stick to temper the pain.
His thoughts naturally wandered over times long gone by, of days in bright sunshine, playing with Ania in meadows, in valleys, looking on her face in all its wild wonder. He remembered the old days, at the house of their parents, times were so different, the faces and moments all spent and deflated, yet remaining in shards of pure recollection.
    Pensive, he wandered, facing the gloom, making his way only by scanning the jagged edges of the strip of dim sky above him; the path now lost to the thick mat of night.
    He stopped. The dripping branches, alive with texture, filled his senses. The rain wasn’t heavy now, just a misting of dampness which collected in places, overflowing the saturated boughs.
She lay in the ground this night at last, the rain setting her in like a flower bulb awaiting the spring. Now she was part of the story, rather than the teller or listener.
Out of the forest, immersed in echo, a sound came gently floating. A sound of such sweetness, such melancholy; so obscure and familiar… a sound which penetrated; a sound that seemed to be made of wood itself.
A cuckoo, calling.

“Hu-hu.”

“Hu-hu.”

Lazar closed his eyes and let the sound in. He smiled. Was it coming from behind or in front? To the left or to the right? He didn’t know and it didn’t matter. He dared not move his feet. Tiny beads of rain gathered in colonies on his cheeks, waiting in the darkness.
Like me, he thought, like me you live in the forest. Like me you watch the night come, and like me you feel the dawn stretching its sleepy arms, reaching slowly around the day.

“Hu-hu.”

Came the reply. Lazar moved his foot forward, stepping onto mossy ground; then another gentle footfall, and one more still. His rhythm building evenly, his stick in metred cadency. Soon he would be home, a fire and soup to greet him. He’d leave his wistful consort to sing into the rain.
We’ll meet again some day.

Reviews

[Bret]

A wonderful piece! I have to say that you've really captured, quite brilliantly I might add, the rhythm and poetry of this voice in the forest. There were times when I could really hear leaves crunching under neath the boot steps of your protagonist. Also, I loved the reoccuring image, or idea, of sound; the sounds become this third character, almost encompassing the entirity of the forest. In fact, I would say that how this motif of sound works inside the story is mimetic of how it works outside the story; it surrounds the in's and out's of the piece. A wonderful collection of images and emotion captured in the most delightful poetic voice. I thoroughly enjoyed this piece and would love to read a continuation. Bravo.

[HoWiE]

Yeeeeeeaaaah.... very nice. This is a really vivd and peaceful piece of work that really gives the impression of a serene forest scene. You've tailored it very well and it flows effortlessly. It's one of those pieces that if you close your eyes after reading it, you can almost smell the dampness of the forest floor and hear the rain hitting the leaves. I really liked this (thanks Narnie for floating it into my view), it was very well written - in fact, I'm going to read it again, just a sec.....

Yeah, just as good the second time if not better... thanks for this, I think I'm ready for bed now. Nice one, I look forward to reading more of your work. Cheers - HoWiE ;)

[Narnie]

I have to admit that when I clicked on your page, before I read anything, I went and got myself a cup of tea and a biscuit. Your writing is like honey on bread... a warm bath... a glass of red wine. It is simply amazing and it can be savoured in every word.

Sorry... that sounds so gushy... but it's true. Half my cup of tea is left so I'm off to read another :)

[An Ordinary Woman]

Absolutely stunning writing, I felt I was there and a gentle rain falling here now ... so it made it seem all the more real to me. I've never had the graces of hearing a cuckoo calling, but I am a huge bird lover, and I certainly would love to hear that ...

I was surprised to learn about his sister being a part of the ground ... * She lay in the ground this night at last, the rain setting her in like a flower bulb awaiting the spring. Now she was part of the story, rather than the teller or listener. * ... this is so tranquil, so peaceful ... I love how you manage to get your readers to feel the serenity the way you do ... wow!! ... it's truly amazing, Andrew!

... ankles complaining ... lol, I like this ... my ankles complain sometimes too!

this is another amazing write, exactly what I expect from you each time that I stop by!