“Well, it doesn’t seem to be now.” I shrugged.
“Aargh!” He raised his sword again. “I will figure out the meaning of this after I am done!”
“Meaning? Truly really there in anything meaning is?”
“What did you say?!”
“Heard you said I what you understand but did not you.”
“Stop arranging your words like that! It’s out of order!”
“Does decides order, who really?”
The Knight screamed and dismounted his horse in a fury. “Your words are still in a sentence, and I understand the words themselves, so ha!”
I waved my hands around in random patterns through the air, then pushed outward with every word, intoning each word as if it were a spell.
“Nitwit! Beezle! Odour! Thusser!”
The Knight screamed again, clutching his head in gloved hands, dropping his sword. “I don’t understand what effect that’s supposed to have!” he screamed. After a second, he looked at me with a glint of madness and said, “Understand now I the way tricky talk you.”
“For what reason are you talking in that utterly chaotic way?” I asked in a concerned voice.
The Knight registered this and dropped to his knees, clutching his head tighter as if trying to keep it from bursting. I picked up the sword and moved in for the final blow.
The Knight raised his head and he sucked in some air and whispered, “You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?” He was gaining strength from the idea of this villainous act.
I had anticipated that and I calmly replied. “No. I’m going to kill myself. You, who came here trying to ‘save’ me, would have blocked me from my path, stopped me from fulfilling my purpose, and thus essentially killed me. So I am going to perform that ultimate act of evil myself because of you; the fop who is wearing the armour of the so-called good.”
When this registered, it was too much for the Knight, who simply collapsed onto the ground. In the same instant, so did his horse.
I stared sadly at the sword. “Those who live by the rules,” I muttered as I dropped the sword, “Die because of them.”
As I was walking away from the corpses, it occurred to me that real progress had not begun until the Knight appeared. I turned to see the Knight, the horse and the sword breaking up into dust and blowing into the wind. I laughed to myself, shaking my head. I walked into the Forest, admiring the Chaos that I had finally accepted.
13
The Stranger Song
What if I was doing this all wrong?
The Path could not be just an expression or a balm for my darkest moments; it needed to bring joy and happiness as well. Could it be that I would reach the end of my journey, without ever having experienced anything of the Forest but its trials?
I was deeply dissatisfied with everything I had experienced on the Path lately, and it seemed like the perfect time to try something different. I was confident that I would manage to make my way back to it. All my roads led to the Path, after all.
So, for the first time, I willingly stepped off the Path and entered the Forest proper.
It was actually not as bad as I would’ve thought. I roamed for several cycles, discovering new varieties of wildlife, encountering things I probably never would have otherwise. The best part, however, was that this break helped me to heal. It was liberating to simply wander without worry, to let the heart soar and love at will. It felt like I could start to feel affection towards the Forest once more.
It did seem strange to feel that way after everything I had been through, but it was true. I felt more alive, more aware of myself and my surroundings than I had been in a long time. I could hear every chirp of every bird. I could hear the giggle of the leaves of as the wind tickled them when it brushed past. I could hear the sound of my footsteps resounding through the Forest, an echo which I had become as acquainted to as I had my breathing.
As I more consciously moved my limbs one after the other, as I heard my heart pumping away in my chest, I could feel myself finally moving away from the sense of isolation that had plagued me for so long. I was embracing the blade of solitude hanging over my head as another appendage to my body, instead of something that had to be escaped from.
The oddest event in that wandering was when I felt something on my head, and touched it to see that it was wet. The wild thought came to mind that it was blood before I looked up to have a drop of water plop right between my eyes. It was raining!
It had never rained before in the Forest! As I ran to find shelter, the trees dwindled until I emerged in a wide glade. That was where I saw her through the rain for the first time.
I remember her well, even the way she looked in that moment. Though I couldn’t see her clearly in the rain, I could see that she was tall, dark and even from that vantage point I knew she was beautiful. The most striking feature was the blue object that she was holding above her head to protect herself from the rain.
Without conscious effort, I found that I was running in her direction. She heard and turned around, whipping her wet, long, chestnut hair as she did so. She had soft brown eyes that smiled even when her mouth did not.
“Thanks,” I said, shouting an introduction over the noise of the rain.
She nodded, and mouthed the word “Shelter” while pointing. I gestured her to lead the way.
As I followed, this scenario seemed strangely familiar; as if meetings with beautiful strangers in the rain were a common occurrence.
Soon, we reached a clearing where the canopy of leaves was so thick that the ground was bone-dry. She tucked her rain-protector out of sight and turned her radiant smile on me. She sat and indicated that I should too. Then she opened her mouth.
I want to say that she spoke, but it was so much more than that. The Forest transformed into a shimmering green entity that enclosed us both in together, her throat had that same shimmering green under the surface, a precious gem lodged there. When she said something, her voice acquired the dimensions of that perfectly-cut gem. Every syllable was perfectly stressed, every word harmonised as if it were part of a song known only to her. Her green voice melded perfectly with the green of the world until they were inseparable, filling the air around us.
A hand being waved in front of my face and a light tap on my forehead brought me out of my reverie. I closed my mouth, turned my head and looked to see her standing over me, a bemused look on her pretty face.
“Is everything okay?” she asked, concerned. That concern struck a chord right within my heart. It felt as if something was gently stroking it. I shuddered lightly, which made her back away.
“Do you need me to bring something, food or medicine?” Her voice carried a touch of fear.
That fear made my heart rattle and I gasped. She was looking desperately, as if a cure had plopped down nearby and she hadn’t noticed. I raised a hand, controlled myself and said, “I’m fine. It’s silly, really. Please sit.” I would have said more, but my voice sounded hollow and pale in comparison.
She sat cautiously, keeping a wary eye on me. My face burned in embarrassment, but I maintained a calm voice and manner. “My mind drifts off sometimes. That’s not to say that I was bored by you, it’s just that-” Bloody idiot. “I think the rain soaked me. I was cold.”
She nodded cautiously, and said softly, “Maybe a fire?”
The fire in my-shut up! I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. She nodded too in imitation of me and she stood and retrieved some sticks. I helped her build a bonfire while she kept an eye on me, more amused than worried now by my overzealous rubbing and tripping over myself. Not one of my finest moments.
Soon, we had a fire crackling away. “Better?” She asked. I nodded, my hand a little too close to the flames to ensure that I did not drift off into my overactive imagination.
“So, since you obviously didn’t hear me before,” she continued, “I’ll ask again. What’s a stranger like you doing here?”
“I’m a traveller,” I muttered.
“Have you not met one before?”
She looked deep into the fire. “I’m never really met before.”
Her voice was so full of heartache that I had to put my hand that much closer to the fire. “That mean you’ve lived here in this part of the Forest alone all your life?” I asked, startled.
“I...I think I had parents who stayed with me till I was grown enough to take care of myself. They taught me everything I know, but I have no memory of them, or where they are, or what happened to them.”
I wanted so badly to go over to her, to put my arm around her, to comfort her, but I didn’t. Instead, I said, “I’m sure wherever they are, they’re thinking of you.”
She nodded and looked straight at me. “When I saw you, it wasn’t unnatural. I always knew that there were other people out there, and you just seemed... right.”
It was my turn to look into the fire. I didn’t know what to say, how to put into words everything I was feeling.
She asked gently, “What of your parents? Are they gone too?”
I was at a loss. “I...I don’t know. I...left them.”
Her eyes widened. “Why would you do that?”
“I was not happy.” I wanted to flinch away from her eyes, but I didn’t. They were full to the brim with emotion, just like her voice.
“You don’t look happy now,” she said.
This simple statement, so gently said, almost broke me.
“It’s just,” she said. “Your eyes are so sad. Even when you smile, they’re sad. It makes me sad too.”
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, cupping my hot hands onto my face, trying to hold back the tears. “I’m sorry.”
“Oh no, no,” she said. Her voice sounded closer, and my overwhelmed emotions were soothed by it. “Please, I’m sorry I said it. Can I do anything?”
“No!” I blubbered. I raised my head, wiping away my tears. “No, it’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
She nodded slowly. “Can I do anything now?” She asked again. I shrugged, trying to control myself. “Maybe you should sleep, and we’ll discuss this once you wake and feel better?” She asked a little desperately.
I nodded, not wanting to distress her more. She calmed. “Is there anything I can get you so that you sleep better?”
I was about to make a suggestion, but it died on my lips. She noticed. “Tell me,” she said. “I want to help.”
I nodded slowly and asked quietly, “Maybe you can sing?”
She was genuinely taken aback by the suggestion which took me aback.
“You want me to sing? Why?”
“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” I muttered, already turning away, trying to find a good place to lie down.
“No, it’s not that,” she said, touching my shoulder. I tried hard not to show my reaction to that. “It’s just that I’ve never sung for anyone before, obviously. I don’t know if you’ll like it.”
“I have several feelings that I will,” I said, lying down.
“Okay,” she said, acquiescing. “If it helps you sleep well, so be it. You look as though your life has been hard, you could do with good sleep. Now, close your eyes.”
I obliged. She started to sing. My eyes may have been closed but my mind’s eye grew wide open. It was bombarded with flashes of bright colours made of glistening jewels, falling from the sky to be captured in the nets made by the silver thread that connected all the stars. Slowly, they fell through the nets as they travelled all over the world, raining their perfect symmetry upon those that were locked in their own beautiful imperfections. These visions haunted my dreams, and often when I dream, I return to them.
When I woke up from the best sleep I ever had, she was asleep. I looked at her for a few seconds before resolutely looking away. It was creepy to watch someone you barely knew while they slept. I set about preparing a meal, so that I had it ready for her when she woke up.
“That looks delicious,” she said sleepily, rubbing her eyes. My heart swelled. She sat up and we ate.
“Did you sleep well?” she asked, slightly anxious. “Did my singing help?”
“More than you can ever imagine,” I said.
She shot me a quizzical look. “You talk as if it is something divine.”
I shot her the same look. “Because it is. Surely, you must know.”
She shrugged. “No. It’s nothing special. Neither am I, really. Just a simple girl living alone in the Forest.”
Instead of yelling that she was wrong, instead of giving a speech about what how special she was, I said, instead, “If you really think that, why sing at all?”
She shrugged once more and seemed to struggle to put something into words. “I suppose,” she said finally, “It’s because I have a song in my heart.”
I was used to the effect her voice had on me this cycle, but these words made my own heart blossom. Instinctively, I stood up and hugged her. I could feel her surprise, but she hugged me back. We stayed that way for a few seconds, and then we broke. She seemed strangely out of breath.
“Well, that was...different,” she said.
“You’ve never been hugged before?”
“I...think I have? I knew what it was in theory, but the actual experience...”
I smiled coyly. “Well, there’s a lot more like that, even better.”
“Well, I look forward to it...I think,” she said slowly while I roared with laughter.
“That sound...” she stared as I stopped laughing. “I don’t remember the last time I heard someone else laugh.”
“I...don’t either,” I muttered.
“Oh...” She muttered, unsure. “I want to ask... what does being a ‘traveller’ mean?”
“Well, it means that I left home to go to new places.”
“Why would you do that? Because you were... unhappy?” She said the last word cautiously, in case I broke down again.
I smiled to reassure her. “Yes, because I was unhappy.”
“Can you tell me why?” She asked, leaning forward.
“I can,” I said slowly, “But it’s not easy to explain. I was never like anyone else, I was always...different.”
“Oh,” she muttered, crestfallen. “I don’t know how to respond to that.”
“Oh, that’s okay,” I said quickly. “I don’t need you to, I was a storyteller, and I’m used to telling stories to quiet listeners. That was part of the problem, really. I didn’t have anybody to tell my story to.”
She nodded, but her eyes were clouded over. “I’ve always been singing to no one,” she said. “So I don’t know if I understand that.”
I opened my mouth to say something, to say so much, but all that emerged was, “You know what? We don’t need to talk about this. Why don’t we just... enjoy and leave the seriousness behind for a little while?”
“That would be nice,” she said, smiling her beautiful smile.
“Nice,” I said, smiling back.
We spent several sleep-cycles together, talking, laughing and eating. She didn’t understand any of the stories I told her, but she listened anyway, enjoying my enthusiasm as I gesticulated and expounded on wonders of lands far away. She didn’t understand why I enjoyed her singing so much, but she did so while it took me to lands far away. Every time we slept, it was a little closer. The moments I spent with her were like I was part of a melancholy, bittersweet love song.
One sleep-cycle, she took my hand and took me down to the river. It was slow-moving, peaceful sort of river that flowed endlessly. The sun was past its highest point and the sunlight was smeared like honey all over her hair. I saw my reflection in the water and realized how terrible I looked. Then I was crashing through the reflection as she pushed me into the river.
I broke the surface, blubbering as she stood laughing. “Oh, really?” I muttered, climbed up and pulled her in with me.
She broke the surface as I laughed. She splashed water on me, an
d I splashed it back at her.
We stood around, splashing and giggling like a couple of children for a long while till our legs started to ache. We clambered back onto shore and while she collected oranges, I scrambled around in the dirt and brought her some flowers, which earned me a kiss on the cheek. I turned the other way to hide how much it burned after.
We sat on the shore, eating the oranges while she hummed, attracting birds.
“You know,” she said suddenly, turning to me, “I’m really happy you’re here.”
“I am too.”
It was barely a moment later, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted something on the opposite shore. I did not want to turn away from her, but I did slowly, and saw a road, curving away into the distant Forest beyond. I ignored it and looked back at her, but she could tell something was wrong.
“Is everything okay?” She asked.
I nodded and said, “It’s been a long cycle, maybe we should go back.”
She nodded too, still concerned. We walked back in silence and almost immediately I lay down, not wanting to talk. She lay down too, her back touching mine. For a long time, there was silence and then a soft hum filled the air. Soon it grew louder, and my mind was bombarded with images of cracked gems, diamonds scattered across the floor like pebbles. I turned to her as she turned to me.
“Did I do something wrong?” She paused to ask.
“No, of course not,” I said, touching her face. “It’s just a thought.”
“What thought?” She asked, through her humming.
I shook my head. I stroked her cheek, feeling the soft vibrations of her song and then said, “I came so far, searching for beauty, and I found it off the Path.”
“So this is about the Path then? You need to go back?”
“Yes,” I whispered. “But I don’t want to.”
“Why?” She whispered back.
“Because I love you.”
In that moment, her song reached its peak, and crystallised within my soul every desire, every bit of love and affection that I had never been able to express. A feeling spread from the tips of my toes to the tip of my tongue, where that infinite, devastating longing craved for destruction in a singularly magnificent way. It wanted her tongue to sweep it and take it away, it wanted to taste her song and become one with it.
The First Storyteller Page 8