the final slumber

            To the little glen I flee--into this copse of trees with I the refugee. Golden, yellow, brown, and red encase me in the autumn colors--my protection.  As I watch the rosy glow hit the horizon, the surrounding mountains scraping the sky, in the vast silence I see the land for what it once was before men ravaged the Earth of her beauty.

            I can’t go back. If I do, I will surely die. Behind me looms the Mountain. No one has dared venture this far before. I count on their fear to keep me safe. 

            Perhaps I am wrong. No, I am definitely wrong. My stomach knots as I hear a snap of twigs to my left. From the corner of my eye, I can see Them coming towards me. Not bothering to be stealthy as I had been. It’s my turn to fear. I, too, abandon all subtleties. There is nowhere to go but up. I cannot go back. I cannot go down. I know what’s There--that’s where I fly from.  They will not follow me up the Mountain. I am not worth enough to be followed up there--the Great Unknown.

            Fight or flight. It’s the flight of my life.

            I run.

   ~ ~ ~

            I’ve been crawling up this Mountain for hours. The exhaustion has overcome me as I break out in a cold sweat. All I have with me is the thin jacket wrapped around my waist. The great shadow of the Mountain clings to me, sending added chills up my spine.

            Where has the sun gone? He is blocked, he is hidden by this wretched Mountain. I never knew how immense this Mountain was. It had always looked daunting and alarming before, but now, crawling up the face, it is even more so.       

            The silence is deafening. I can feel it pressing in on me, weighing me down. I’m drowning in it. I’m drowning in this silence. It is going to kill me. But no one has followed me thus far.

            Sharp pangs in my stomach. My mouth is dry. My tongue feels swollen. Alone. I am infinitely alone. Am I going to die? I can’t help but wonder. When will I die? If I die, no one will ever know. But back where I came from, I would have died anyways but no one would have cared. Which would I prefer?

            That’s like saying Would I rather be suffocated by the sickly-sweet smell of the sage brush they often used on me as a drug, or encompassed by the thorny branches that grabbed at me with their scraggly hands and inhibited my every move?

            Foolish. These are foolish, foolish thoughts. My determination to live will outweigh my body’s will to die. I will make it to the top of this Mountain if it’s the last thing I do. And there at last I will find the refuge I have been seeking.

            Slowly, slowly I make my way up the Mountain. But the lacerations on my back break open. Fresh as they are, they begin to bleed anew. My back is wet and sticky. I must stop again before I collapse. My ragged body welcomes the numbing cold of the ground.

            The Mountainside is rough and rocky. I can go no further. It must be past high noon. I have to be near the peak. I’ll find out tomorrow. Tomorrow…

            Tomorrow. If I survive the night.

            I remember something my daddy taught me, something he showed me…

            Before they fenced everyone in with the cement walls and cleared out the fields, the deer used to come into our fields and bed down for the night, leaving patches of flattened grain. My daddy said they did it on the Mountain too. My mama also showed me what plants were edible. I remember everything they taught me, everything they said to me. I never before wondered how they knew…But now I never will know.

            I was quite young. Ten. Maybe eleven. I came home one day to find my loving parents…missing. They were nowhere to be found. They were gone. Supposing they were out visiting, I figured they would be home soon. I made myself a simple supper then sat down to read. It was getting dark and still my parents were not home. I began to worry. The lights would be turned out soon. My only concern: How would they find their way home? I hoped they had warm clothes.

            Just before lights out, there was a knock at the door. I thought maybe…well I don’t know what I thought. But what came next was a heavy blow and not at all what I had expected. I don’t remember much but for the roaring and rushing in my ears and the disbelief.

            It was a social worker come to collect me and my belongings. The bearer of bad news told me my parents had died of an infection"rather injection; my parents had been forewarned of not conforming their ways lest they should suffer the repercussions"and I was to live with the other orphan children.

            Next thing I knew, I was in a sterile, uninviting building with thirty other children or so. I clung tightly to my stuffed bear. And there I’ve always stayed.

            Until now.

            I finally find a sheltered deer bed and burrow down in the thick long grass, gathering leaves and more grass round about me to help keep me warm for the night.

            I reflect upon my past at the orphanage. I’d felt caged and restricted there. They deemed me a wild animal. I could not be tamed. But They were cruel. They tried to beat me into submission like the wild animal I was. But never would I give in. I knew there was something wrong in my parents’ death. I would not believe the lies They tried to sing to me.

            I have always been pretty I suppose. But also an oddity with my dark, almost black, hair and my equally dark blue eyes. I was never a topic of interest, however, among the boys. But for the girls I was the chief subject of gossip. How strange I was. How wild. How frightening. How different. Until one day, a boy with equally dark hair and, oh, those evergreen eyes came. He soon became the main attraction. Although his disposition was quite opposite from mine, it was quite obvious our physical similarities.

            I’m so exhausted, so worn. I think I pass out. I sleep for the rest of the day and far into the night.

~ ~ ~

          I wake up just a few hours before dawn. Freezing cold. Dew has dampened my jacket. I shiver uselessly"it hurts I shiver so hard. Closer to the sky than I’ve ever been before, the moon and stars are brighter and more exquisite than I could have imagined possible. I reach out, half expecting to graze the smooth surface of the moon, the sparkling points of the stars with my trembling fingertips.

            I hear pounding behind me. My senses immediately become alert and my muscles taut. A herd of deer are running down the ravine"so close I can feel their wind. Why are they running at such a break-neck speed? I realize they aren’t deer. I saw one once. It didn’t look like these. Trying to discern the deer- like animals, I finally come to the conclusion they’re elk. I’d seen a picture of one once in a book"before They took the books. I learned so much from the books. But They took them away and tried to erase the knowledge from my mind. But I could never forget. I will never forget.

 A pack of dog-like creatures are chasing the elk down the Mountain. Wolves. They’re passing me. But one veers off the beaten path of his fellow hunters. He’s smelled the blood on me. It has dried and plastered my shirt to my back, pulling and wrenching at my damaged skin. I curl up into a tight ball, trying to be as small and insignificant as I can possibly manage.

            He comes so close and stares at me with those unsettling, unblinking yellow eyes. I can feel his hot, rancid breath on my cheek. He’s so close that if I were to reach out, I could comb my numb fingers through his great shaggy ruff. I hold my breath"my lungs will burst. Oh moon and stars and heaven above, if you be there I pray thee save me. Please.

            He turns and trots off to rejoin his pack. Slowly, slowly, ever so slowly I let my breath out and say a silent prayer of thanks.

            We’d never been allowed to pray. But my parents taught me that too.

            The cold, crisp morning begins to wake up. Again, I am struck by the beauty of the outside world and the concept of life outside of the walls. The earth around me is teeming with the life of thousands of unknown beings. My arms look grotesquely thin and pale in the wan morning light. I imagine the rest of me does too but I have no desire to look and confirm. I need nourishment. Now. Or I will never make it.

I find some orange and red berries. I dig up the roots of a little green plant. I strip a cactus of its quills. This will have to do. It will be enough until I can find something else, something more substantial.

            I can see all around me for miles. The world stretches out before me, farther than the eye can see. But still I am surrounded by mountains, though none so great as the one who has proved my savior. No one followed me. Naturally, They wouldn’t. Not with the Mountain judging Their every move"full of apprehension and agitation.

            I begin the dreaded ascent but knowing it to be the only solution to my survival. Something’s waiting there for me. I don’t know what and I don’t know how, all I know is that my future awaits just over the crest of the Mountain. The anticipation, the trepidation mingling into one and becoming an overpowering sense of curiosity. What could possibly be on the other side?

            All I can hear is my labored breathing. I’ve yet to encounter any other unknown creatures of this great and spacious Earth. But occasionally, I can hear them scampering through the underbrush. I feel as if I should fear them"they are nothing I have ever known"but I don’t. I feel safe. It’s not like it had ever been with Them.

            Gradually, the day begins to grow warmer. I think I can discern the top of the Mountain. I clamber up the face, still in the cool shade, but the day grows brighter. It is a wonder I have made it this far.

            And suddenly, I’m blinded by a great ball of fire, growing rounder and rounder with each step I take towards the crest of the Mountain. The sun stretches his violent rays, penetrating the impossibly blue sky. And finally, I have reached the top. The top is surprisingly vast, not at all pointy and narrow as all had believed it to be. No longer is the Mountain so menacing. It is but a mountain.

            I’m standing alone on the great mountaintop and the great rolling hills are splayed out before me, though my mountain is still by far the greatest. But all are massive in their own majesty and glory. This is wide open spaces. And here I finally have room to breathe, room to run free. I revel in the peace. I begin to spin and spin in circles, my laughter floating heavenward, until I collapse on the ground and I just lay there and stare up at the sky, watching the clouds, something I haven’t done for so long, not since my parents were taken from me. I miss this. How could I have forgotten? Under the glorious sun, I become lost in the clouds as they take on a life of their own…

            But then the stark reality hits me. There is nothing up here. My life is not saved. I will die. Quickly, I stand up. Too quickly. My head rushes and I’m dizzy. Steadily, I look about me for any sign of anything. I was so sure something was waiting for me here. How could I have been so irrational?

            I’m half delirious. I’m half mad. The haze over the next hill begins to curl up and darken. But it’s not haze. It’s smoke! And smoke means life! My salvation has not been the imaginings of a desperate girl. I soar down the mountain to my deliverance. I run short of breath and must stop before I attempt the second ascent.

            Finally, I gather up what little is left of my energy and trudge up the hill. I come to a small cabin just on the other side of the hill, the smoke such an enticing sign. I call out, but to whom I know not.

            Oh. Such a pain as I had never known before. My ears, the mountains, the valleys, all are ringing with the sound. Birds dash into the air. I feel peculiarly detached from my body as I glance up to see him standing in the door with a horror stricken face. I would know him anywhere. His black hair. His evergreen eyes. So beautiful. Only he understood me. But how could that be? How did he survive? They reported him dead…

            All those pretty lies sang along with all the rest.

            He’s running at me. What is he saying? I can’t hear.  Why is he so frantic? I can’t feel anything save for the unbearable pain in my chest. It’s agonizing. It’s excruciating. None of the words from my books seem to be able to sum up my tormenting anguish. My chest feels wet. I look down"a glistening scarlet has bloomed across the front of  my shirt. It’s beautiful, this contrast of crimson on white… I can’t help but think it.  But past my fascination, I see a gaping hole in my chest, blood seeping out profusely. Oh. It hurts. My determination to live can no longer control my body’s want to die.

 And he’s there and I can’t make what he’s saying. What is he saying? The tears stream down his face and his body is wracked with sobs. Why is he crying so? I smile up at him. It only seems to send him into further horror. Only he could look so beautiful with a face twisted and contorted as it is with grief.

            The ringing in my head begins to soften as the struggle to breathe grows greater. It’s the fight of my life.  He cradles me in his arms and so I don’t notice much. I can make out what he’s saying now. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I didn’t know... He cries over and over again, rocking me back and forth, back and forth, reminding me of the days when I was young, the days when my parents would tell me fairytales and sing me lullabies, the days before storytelling and singing were prohibited, the gentle rhythm a comfort.

            I reach up to lay my hand on his soft, tear-stained cheek, this small gesture sapping me of all my energy. I love you…I whisper, trying to comfort him. I love you back… He chokes out. Then ever so tenderly he kisses me with his honey-sweet lips. And my entire childhood memories come back to me, a long forgotten past serenading me home…

            I’m Snow White running through the forest"the trees snatching at my face, my clothes. I’m Cinderella fleeing from those who would unmask me"I've lost my shoe, I found it again, though on my own. I’m Alice in Wonderland"I've fallen down the rabbit hole. I’m Belle"I will never see my parents again, wherever they may be. I’m Sleeping Beauty"I will sleep for a hundred years or more…

            “Kookaburra sits in the old gum tree. Merry, merry king of the bush is he. Sing! Kookaburra, sing! Sing a tune for me…” The one line of my favorite song runs incessantly through my head.

            Suddenly, I feel so weary, so faint. A fatigue more overwhelming than any known to man. All I want to do is sleep. My vision grows dim and clouds over. My eyelids grow increasingly heavy as I sluggishly close them. The pain is slowly easing...

            Finally, overcome once and for all, I sink into absolute oblivion….