The Girl With brown Eyes

A fairy tale about transmigration, sacrifice and destiny

The Girl with Brown Eyes

By Amy Greene

In the heart of a strange and ancient forest, the four corners of the earth converge and sunder, moving together and apart again in currents of energy like the coursing blood of the earth. Here was once a realm of men who lived together in perfect Harmony. Children ran unafraid and curled contentedly in their parents arms at night when all men gathered by the fire to hear the wisdom of Old Forest Man and the stories of Old Forest Woman. A vital, conscious stream of liquid crystal ran through the center of this forest. Then, came a terrible time that destroyed the Harmony. The liquid crystal was defiled and slithered along the stream bed with discordant cries instead of the delighted babbling of water over stones. This is the story of that time.

The disharmony began when one half of the people joined together to own the spirit of the air and plundered every pebble, stone and boulder from all the land to build a monstrous church to confine the energy of the air. From this church rose a sharp-cornered tower where these people hung golden bells from the gold beaten and wrested from the rock they had amassed. They believed the ringing of these bells was the voice of the god of the air, and no longer listened to Old Forest Man or Old Forest Woman.

The other half of the people came together and tried to own the spirit of fire and they plundered the heart of the mountain to steal away the source of fire. They brought this flaming heart to a monstrous hole in the ground which they had dug despite the pleading of the earth for mercy. They surrounded this hole with trees they killed and dragged there because they believed that they would hear in the crackling fire the voice of the god of fire and they no longer listened to Old Forest Man and Old Forest Woman.

Old Forest Woman tried in vain to tell them that the earth and the trees and the fire and the stones would all have given of themselves freely because they loved all men but none would listen.

Old Forest Man tried in vain to tell them that there was no spirit of the air, no god of fire, or of the earth, or of the water but only one voice, and that was Harmony, and that was Oneness, but none would heed him.

The stream saw this and became afraid. Its bed had no stones, the trees at its edge were broken the grasses and reeds were trampled. It no longer had a many-voiced song. And when the people who worshiped fire began to kill the creatures of the forest in sacrifice, the blood ran into the stream. And when the people who worshiped air began to sacrifice the creatures of the forest, this blood ran down into the stream as well, and finally the water ran a deep crimson. The stream fled the earth altogether and began to hide underground and the streambed became the dusty path through the forest.

The realm of men completely shattered into two and the worshipers of the spirit of the air built a walled city in the east around their monstrous church with the golden bells. Only the bells were visible above the high walls. These bells could only ring out between dawn and dusk for darkness brought with it the cold and they had no fire to warm the air or offer light. They came to think of fire as evil and they were filled with hatred for those who worshiped it, and this hatred made them afraid, and this fear made them cruel.

The dusty path through the forest led to a barren, treeless kingdom in the west created by the worshippers of the god of fire. In the center of the kingdom was the monstrous hole that imprisoned the source of fire surrounded by broken trees on which they sat to worship. They had also built here a wooden altar for their sacrifices into which so much blood had soaked that it had become dead and harder than stone. They came to believe that the people of the east were evil and hated the sound of the golden bells. For this reason, they did not allow anyone to sing or make music, which reminded them of this sound. They were filled with hate and the hate made them afraid, and the fear made them cruel.

The last stronghold of Harmony was in the a small remaining circle of the ancient forest where Old Forest Man and Old Forest Woman lived, creating and keeping harmony in themselves as they awaited the return of Harmony to the earth.

Now, you may perhaps be thinking to yourself that this story is unhappy and faraway like a tragic tale of history. It has, indeed, been a story within a story. It is like the lowest limb of a mighty tree which you may begin to climb; it is only the beginning of your climb into the highest branches where the wind blows knowingly around you, swaying the top of the tree. And here, the sun and clouds are very close to you and have faces because you have climbed right into the sky. You can see in all directions for ever and ever and ever and the excitement is breathtaking. You can see through time itself and into the soul of the land if you are willing to keep your eyes wide open. So just listen, become one with not only with this story, but with all stories. Wonder! What would become of you if you became a stone or a creature or even an Old Forest One. No part is more vital than the other, not even the smallest drop of water in the stream. Do not fear to wander everywhere in stories and become everything there, for when the story has ended, you will still be who you are, only a little bit wiser.

When the kingdoms were built in the west and the east, they killed a mighty buck in the east as a sacrifice and sacrificed a beautiful doe on their altar in the west. They were the parents of a fawn, now left an orphan and alone in the forest. She grew weak as she began to starve, grew weary from wandering lost in the forest, and her body sickened as the despair in her soul began to spread. She staggered out of the forest and fell unconscious onto the dusty path.

Deep in the forest, Old Forest Woman suddenly leapt to her feet at just that moment. She felt the fawn’s pain and fatal loneliness within and followed her heart to where she lay dying on the path. Old Forest Woman was overcome with grief and used the magic of the earth to transform the fawn into a human child. She gathered up the pale, unconscious child into her arms and walked toward the walled city in the east.

The worshipers of fire saw her approach and did not remember her. They did not understand what was happening and were so afraid that they slammed shut the gate to the city and began to throw stones at them. Old Forest Woman feared for the life of the child and turned away. She walked down the dusty path toward the kingdom in the west.

The people who worshiped the god of fire there saw them approach and did not remember her. They, too, were confused and this made them deathly afraid. They were so afraid that they bowed down before them as though they were descending and avenging deities.

Old Forest Woman wept at this but felt that it was better than being stoned to death. She laid the girl child down among them and left quietly without a word to return to the forest where time began. The fire worshipers healed the child, fed her well and sheltered her, but they could never understand her. She never rejoiced when bloody sacrifices were made to the god of fire but fell instead into a state of deep melancholy at the sight of the altar covered in blood or flames. And each day at sunrise and sunset, she would go to the edge of the kingdom and gaze spellbound, transfixed, towards the east. The people became anxious and would no longer look at her. They did not realize that she could hear the golden bells. The sound of the bells also filled her with sadness at the loss of Harmony which she did not consciously remember but knew in her soul.

For many, many seasons, the girl child lived among the worshipers of fire, becoming more beautiful even as her huge brown eyes became more desperate. This beauty disturbed the people because she did not looked like them and they did not understand. As time went on the lack of understanding became mistrust and they began to blame her for every adversity. When the hunters missed their mark, she was to blame. When the crops failed, it was her fault. At very sign of the cruelty of their god of fire, they accused her. They hated her and became so angry that they lost the ability to reason. They could no longer see or hear anything but hate. They decided to kill her on the altar, to sacrifice her to their god to restore his benevolence.

These angry people fell upon the girl, bound her feet and hands and carried her to their altar. All eyes looked on. All breathing sucked inward and stopped because their hearts knew this was wrong. All arms raised up to praise the moody deity and one voice intoned in secret tongue the words of the ceremony. The sacrificial knife hung high up in the air as though of its own accord, then plunged through the air like a nova’s fiery arc into the weeping child’s heart.

In utter silence, they watched her bleed. Then, as they watched, a metamorphosis occurred that would also transform each one of them. The lifeless body of the girl returned to its original form of a deer but standing next to the altar, diaphanous and pale as ice, stood the image of the girl as she had appeared when she first had been brought to them, now in her immortal body. As she slowly looked from one to another of these people who had just taken her life, the altar cracked and split into a thousand fragments, never to be restored. This immortal child rose slowly into the air and moved toward the ancient forest where her soul had been born into the body of the fawn.

The people were transformed. The hate was drained from their hearts. They wanted to follow her and so they stumbled after her down the dusty path and into the ancient forest. They were met there by Old Forest Woman and Old Forest Man, who welcomed them with open arms. The immortal body of the child rose into the air and disappeared. The people did not worship fire any longer and sent runners to go free the source from the monstrous hole in the earth. One by one, they began to sing and the song grew louder and louder. It was a song in harmony, a song of Harmony.

The worshipers of the spirit of the air could hear the singing and stood very, very still. The song drained the hate from their hearts and they were not afraid when the golden bells shattered and fell to pieces and the high walls of the city crumbled to the ground. They stumbled toward the sound of the singing and into the heart of the ancient forest where they were welcomed by Old Forest Man and Old Forest Woman. There was a crowd of men, and it became impossible to tell who was from the east and who was from the west. The underground stream heard the song of Harmony and flooded the path with liquid crystal again and all remaining traces of both kingdoms washed away.

Now again, children run unafraid all day and snuggle in their parents’ arms by the fires at night where all men gather to hear the wisdom of Old Forest Man and the stories of Old Forest Woman. These are wiser children than before. They have a deep reverence for their own innocence.

There is no one wiser than a child.