For the first time since he carelessly wandered off Chapman took a moment to notice the area looking for landmarks of any kind that would help him find this location again. With a natural ability to walk around in circles without any effort he figured he would make his way back to whence he came. But finding this exact location where this amazing find was again would be hard. He would use the tall pine tree that seemed to tower over the rest by a good twenty feet. That would serve as his landmark as it was only about fifty feet away, more or less.
Looking back at the statue as he walked off he couldn’t help but wonder why it was out here in the middle of the forest. He wouldn’t have the time to ponder this question for very long as a short walk away revealed another masterpiece. This one even more amazing and stunning than the first. On a branch that was out of reach, sat a grey statue of a squirrel. It was impeccably wrapped around the bark, coiled as if ready to pounce.
Chapman lost track of how long he spent looking at this marvellous creation and how it almost perfectly fit on its perch. Truly amazing, he thought as he looked back to note the location of the tall pine tree and the deer. He simply had to come back and bring his son to see this. The only thing he couldn’t decide on was if he would tell him first or just bring him out here and show him.
Still reeling from the amazing craftsmanship he was certainly not ready for his next find. Walking past a small cluster of young pine trees Chapman froze in his tracks as he saw another statue made from the same concrete-like grey granite. But this statue was of a hunter who had his rifle aimed in the direction he had come from. His head was cocked to the side a bit as if he was looking towards his prey with his rifle still pointing the way. The details of the buttons and zippers to the life-like stone fingers were simply incredible.
Standing next to the statue he looked down the barrel of the gun and sure enough, it pointed straight to a small clearing amidst the bushes and trees where he could see the deer. That’s when he realized that the markings on the deer were most likely done on purpose. Through his binoculars he could see the deer in the distance. His only thought now – how was he going to get his son to come out so he could show him all this. And he needed to remember to bring a camera instead of binoculars.
Shortly afterwards Chapman came across a small granite statue of a rabbit, which he thought about taking with him as proof but he remembered how far he would have to carry it. After recent events he felt that carrying a heavy granite statue on the long hike back might not be a good idea. Not far away, emerging through a thick ridge of trees he came upon a clearing. Gary stopped, suddenly transfixed by the sight that took his breath away. He had heard that expression many a time but had now experienced it for the first time in his life. In the clearing stood about a dozen or so statues all made from this grey granite stone. They were scattered with no discernable pattern all over the small clearing amidst the knee high yellow grass. Some looked to have been there for a while as they were more weathered and had discoloration and spots of moss on them.
There was one of a bear standing on three legs as it was carved as if in mid stride. A pair of statues stood near the bear, a modestly dressed middle-aged woman with a small boy next to her. Both statues positioned such that their hands were mere inches from each other’s, as if about to grasp them together. Each statue in the clearing was more marvellous than the last he thought to himself. Close by stood a statue of a cowboy wearing a cowboy hat, a vest with a pocket watch tucked away and barely showing and he even had a pistol on his hip. Next to the cowboy was a smaller statue of a dog with his head cocked to the side, its ear lifted as if listening intently. What made Chapman laugh was the fact that the statue had one leg lifted as it was about to pee on the cowboy. The one statue that stood out the most of the all was the one of the shirtless native warrior poised in a slight crouch. He was holding a tomahawk in one hand and the intricate details on the fringes on the sides of his pants were simply incredible and must have taken months to make. Near him stood a statue of a coyote with his mouth in a snarl and another statue of a deer in a very upright position gazing into the distance. He found himself wondering if there were any more statues and if the owner would be willing to part with a few.
Until now this part of the forest had almost an eerie quiet to it that at first he hadn’t noticed. Only when he entered this clearing did that eerie silence get broken. But being completely absorbed by the amazing workmanship in each piece of art he had failed to hear the unmistakable sounds that could only be a river flowing close by. It took a good while before the sound caught his attention and he tore himself away from marvelling at the statues. It was coming from the opposite end of the clearing, which was the same direction he had been heading. That’s when he heard something else, it sounded like a melodic voice as if someone was humming nearby.
Without hesitation he walked into a small patch of forest at the edge of the clearing. He entered it quickly, so carelessly that he got tangled in branches that hooked and snagged at his clothing. Chapman’s hat was tore off his head twice, both times hurriedly picking it up and roughly placing it back on his head. His curious nature was getting the best of him now and his thoughts were that this person could shed some light on this curious array of masterpieces in the middle of a forest. It took but a few moments for him to cross this thick patch of trees and brush. Emerging on the other side of the thicket, the first thing he saw was the back of an old granite statue of a young man. He barely took notice of the statue’s details as behind it a short distance away was a small log cabin with smoke billowing out of a stone chimney.
Had he not noticed the smoke coming out of the top of the rough, multicoloured stone work he might have thought the cabin was an abandoned shack. The wood looked dark as it had greyed with time and the roof looked like it had been patched many times before. He could see no windows or doors from this angle so the door would have to be on the side facing the river that was in front of the cabin.
This was a lot to take in as the cabin lay to his left and in front of it was the river he had heard shortly before. It wasn’t very wide; or deep but looked like it could be this cabin’s only source of water. There were three more statues in front of him, plus the one of the man behind him. One was a deer at the river’s edge, the second a giant moose on the opposite side of the river facing in his direction. The third granite masterpiece was a person but from this angle he couldn’t tell if it was a man or woman. The hair was long and the shoulders not too broad and so he couldn’t be certain at first. What caught his eye the most was the contrast of colors of the clothing that was draped over both shoulders. It was as if someone had carelessly draped wet clothing to dry on this marvellous work of art.
I suppose living amidst so many masterpieces in time one might lose appreciation for them. That’s the first thought that went through Gary’s mind as he walked past the cabin towards the riverside.
That’s when he heard the splashing of water and what again sounded like a voice humming. At the river’s edge sat a figure hunched over, next to a few rocks that also had a few pieces of dripping wet, unidentifiable clothing on them. At a glance the figure had a narrow waist and wider, feminine hips. Her feminine voice confirmed this as she hummed her melodic song, which Gary didn’t recognize. She was bent forward; one hand bracing herself on the rock next to her and her other hand he assumed was in the water, perhaps washing something he but couldn’t see from this angle.
Walking towards her he blurted with excitement. “Excuse me miss, but are you the one who carved these amazing statues?”
“Leave now, we don’t want any visitors,” the soft voice said in a firm tone as she froze in place holding her garment in the cold river water. “Were perfectly fine living here by ourselves,” she added.
“But I want to buy a few of your statues,” Chapman blurted out in haste as he walked towards her. “Name your price,” he added, extending a hand towards her. “My name is Chapman, G
ary Chapman,” he continued ignoring her comments as he was so used to getting what he wanted.
“Martha?” he heard a man’s voice coming from what he had thought to be an empty cabin. “Who are you talking to, sweetheart?” the voice asked.
Gary froze in his tracks and looked towards the cabin for any sign of life that he might have missed in his haste. After a brief moment from this new perspective he saw stirring inside what looked to be the doorway of the cabin.
“It’s nothing, Henry. I was just talking to myself again,” the woman’s voice exclaimed loudly.
Gary turned and took another step, still intent on introducing himself to the woman. When she turned to face him he gasped. She was stunningly beautiful, with piercing green eyes. Her high cheek bones and perfect face was breathtaking. In that brief moment he also noticed her thick long dark hair writhed about as if it had a life of its own. Some strands rearing up as if coming to attention with what looked to be small tiny eyes looking directly at him. By then he felt himself frozen in his tracks and in his last few brief moment of consciousness he came to realise that she was the one who made all these incredible statues but not with any chisel or in fact with tools of any kind. But he realised this too late to save himself as he felt his consciousness slip away.
“I’m almost done washing the clothes, Henry and then I’m coming to make dinner,” she said while she and hundreds of beady eyes on the ends of what resembled snake-like creatures on her head, instead of hair, looked directly into the face of this new granite statue. After a moment she reached over and picked up the wet clothes sitting in a heap on the rock behind her and she draped what looked to be a man’s shirt over Gary’s extended arm, now made of solid grey granite. “I’m sorry you had to find us,” she whispered softly.
A shirtless Henry emerged out of the cabin holding an empty basket in his hands in front of him. “You want me to get some carrots from the cellar?” he asked.
Martha took a moment to look at her handsome companion before turning to fetch the garment she had dropped by the river side when Gary showed up. She held it up looking at the fresh dirt in dismay and dunking it back in the river to wash this new filth off the otherwise clean grey shirt.
“Ouf,” she heard Henry exclaim sharply.
She turned to see him holding his chest while standing next to the newest granite statue of an aging bird watcher. “When did you have time to make this one?” He inquired “You haven’t carved anything in years.”
“Come, let’s go get some carrots,” she said taking the basket from Henry’s grasp.
“Wait now, hold up,” he replied. “What is it?” he asked as he ran his hand over its arm up to the face. “It’s a man, isn’t it? And he is wearing a hat,” he said as he continued running his hands over the granite masterpiece. “Binoculars?” he added in an inquisitive tone.
“Oh, Henry, I haven’t been this happy in a long time. I’m so happy you came into my life when you did. I thought I would be lonely forever,” said Martha, smiling as she watched her lover feeling the granite with both hands.
“You make me happy too,” replied Henry as he ran his hands over the statue adding “I just wish I could see more than just shadows so that I could appreciate these amazing statues you carved.”
With tears welling up in her beautiful green eyes she spoke softly. “You will never understand this, Henry but I am so ugly that you couldn’t stand the sight of me if you could see me. I know that doesn’t make much sense but just know that it would be impossible for you to love me like you do.”
Henry, taking his focus away from the statue, walked towards the sound of her voice. He could see but a shadow where Martha stood in the contrast of bright daylight and touched her face with his hand. “You’re right about that not making sense, but if my not being able to see means I get to know your love then I don’t want to see.”
He affectionately ran his hands in her now limp, thick hair and she touched his arm as she smiled, knowing she would only know his love while he lived out his mortal life.
“You always get so emotional when you show me one of your new carvings,” said Henry.
Sleepy Meadows
1
Lying in her bed, Agnes could feel sweat roll off her taught skin. She had shed her thin wisp of a blanket long ago, the heat and humidity in her bedroom too much for her to bear. Her short silky nightgown barely covering her dark brown skin, she struggle through the heat in an attempt to sleep as much as she could. The dampness of the bedding beneath her made her even more uncomfortable as she awoke yet again. At that moment she felt his presence even with her eyes still closed. He had come to call on her yet again.
Opening her eyes, she could see his silhouette against the large window and the glow of the moon in the night’s sky. The wispy white curtains that framed the edges fluttered gently in the breeze. In the fog of her sleep-clouded mind she wondered when he had arrived. How long had he been standing there watching her? She wanted to speak, to ask those questions but found herself unable to. The thoughts of his touch again came over her and she soon could think of nothing else. She closed her eyes, her body writhing at the though, she ran a hand over her young firm breast, feeling her nipple harden.
Letting out a soft moan she opened her eyes to see him now leaning above her. She felt the weight of his body cave the mattress slightly, causing the bed to creak. The moonlight behind him makes it so she could only see his form and not the details of his face. For a brief moment she remembered, in his late night visits, she had never seen his face. She closed her eyes in anticipation and felt his lips on her forehead followed by her neck line as he kissed her gently. Making his way to her chest trailing down to her breast she felt her passions rise as he placed a hand on her hip. He showered her taut belly with gentle kisses as he made his way even lower as she moaned in anticipation. Her body now tensing with desire; she runs her fingers through her mysterious lover’s thick hair, pushing him lower yet. Her body suddenly feeling alive like never before, she let out a loud moan vocalizing her pleasure.
2
“Are you alright, Agnes?” Caregiver Maureen asked as she turned on the lamp next to the bed. Agnes was quivering under the layers of multicoloured blankets, her small wrinkled, age spotted leathery hands clenching the blankets under her chin. Beads of sweat were forming on her forehead and her silver hair was damp with perspiration.
“It was him again,” said Agnes as she looked up at Maureen with abnormally bright eyes.
“Did you have the dream again, Agnes?” asked Maureen who dabbed at the beads of moisture on her forehead with a tissue.
“You know I could feel him, Maureen. It’s like he was really here. You do believe me don’t you?”
“Of course I do. I know you’re not a liar,” she said as she smiled at the old woman, the kindness beaming from her expression as she made eye-contact with her patient.
“I’m hungry,” said Agnes as she relaxed, pushing off the blankets.
Maureen pulled the blankets up again knowing full well her favourite old lady would soon feel chilled again. “It’s only five thirty, Agnes. Try and go back to sleep. Breakfast will be in a few hours, ok.”
Frowning, Agnes lay back and pleaded, “But I’m hungry now! Would you be a dear and get an old woman some cookies and juice. Please?”
Maureen rested her hand on Agnes’s arm and smiled softly. “You know I can’t say no to you now, don’t you. I’ll be back in a few minutes with your cookies and juice.”
Watching Maureen as she walked out, Agnes spoke softly not to wake the others, “Thank you, sweetie.”
3
“Who was that?” asked Jenna in a whisper as she met Maureen in the hallway of Sleepy Meadows Rest Home. Maureen smiled at her as she turned and walked into the small kitchen next to the nurses’ station. Jenna followed her taking her armload of dirty linens with her.
; “Agnes had her dream again. I gotta bring her a snack.” Maureen smiled as she busied herself getting the date cookies and pouring orange juice.
“Really, How is she?” asked Jenna as she plopped herself into a kitchen chair.
Maureen smiled as she put the carton of juice away. “Bright like the other times. She knew my name.”
“Wow, that’s amazing,” said Jenna slouching in her chair and letting the linen droop a bit in her arms.
“Remember the last time she had her dream? She was vibrant all the next day almost. She only started forgetting later that night.”
“Oh, I remember all right. The first time it happened two months ago I almost fainted. The contrast between the days before to that day was just too much. I thought she was possessed at first. Scarred the shit out of me!” Jenna said as she got up, watching as Maureen, with the juice and cookies walked down the hall.
Jenna stood still in the hallway as she watched her co-worker enter Agnes’s room and heard the old lady say “Oh Maureen, you’re such a sweetheart. Thank you!”
4
Agnes sat in her chair at the breakfast table, her aches and pains not so bad this morning. She smiled bright as they brought her a bowl of warm oatmeal with sliced banana in it. A white-haired elderly man in pyjamas under a housecoat with thick glasses approached her table, slightly dragging his slippered feet as he smiled and began to speak. But before he could, he paused when she surprised him by speaking first.
“Good morning, Father Richard,” she smiled as she scooped up a large spoonful of oatmeal and gobbled it up.
He reached the chair and pulled it back to sit next to her as he spoke. “Agnes my dear, you look well today.”
Still chewing on her banana and oatmeal she replied “Thank you, Father. I do feel well. Hungry, but well.” As they heard a loud snore coming from behind them, they both looked at each other, exchanging knowing glances.
Sleepless Nights Page 3