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Dreams of an Emerald
Forest
* 1 thru 4 *
I pulled up
the sheets to meet my ear, and pushed my body futher
under the comforter. Ever since I was little, some part of me
had always
feared being exposed at night to monsters. Of course, common
sense told me
there was no such thing, but it just made me feel more secure.
Before long, I was slipping into sleep. One minute I was
looking at
the blurry picture of the room, illuminated in shades of grey,
then
nothingness. I'd thought before it seemed like what dying would
be like...
just fuzzy thoughts then no consciousness. Maybe dreams were
hints of
what heaven or hell would be like, after a imitation of death.
Dreams were something I've always been interested in. As
a child, they
had been simplistic, either catagorizing what happened that day,
or bad.
The bad were full of creatures that made frightening noises,
chased me,
but weak enough so that I could never confront them and meet
them. For
some reason, not knowing what was after you made it scarier.
But as I got
older, the dreams got more interesting, full of images that seemed
created
out of a science fiction novel, and scenes in full color, that
jumped from one
story to another. They seemed logical when you were in them,
but once out,
if you tried to explain them to others later, it was a fragile
mix of
broken up vignettes, with all the important details forgotten.
Next thing I was seeing was hills, of some landscape I had
never seen before, at least not in real life. They looked like
something
out of a National Geographic special... dusky light breaking
down onto
rocky peaks, which were rising out of an incredibly emerald green
plain,
made up of high-reaching trees of a tropical forest. The sky
was a deep
turquoise, turning a deeper blue as it curved down over me, disappearing
behind the trees that stretched as far as I could see. The smell
of strange
flowers drifted in the air, like airborne spices. I jumped at
the sound
of an animal's harsh cry nearby. For a dream, it was remarkably
realistic.
I looked down at the ground I was standing on, it was covered
with tiny
plants growing, or trying to. The light, even at the top of the
hill I
was on, was diffused by the leaves of the trees, making everything
a dim
green.
From not too far off, I could hear the sound of water falling.
The
air was hot, even though the sun was close to setting, and humid.
I
suddenly realized that I was very warm. The clothes I was wearing
were
extremely... wrong. A pair of jeans, Reeboks, and a UMass sweatshirt
were meant for New England winters, not this. As I felt the sweat
beading up on my forehead, I started down the hill, swatting
broad-leafed
branches out of my way. All I wanted was a drink of water, and
maybe a
swim. On the way down, I stopped for a second, and stripped off
the
sweatshirt. The name never seemed more appropriate than now,
I thought
and laughed. It didn't look like I would run into anybody on
the way,
or at least not anyone who would expect me to be wearing it.
The hill was
steep, and the branches kept hitting me in the face.
After a few minutes of toiling down towards what I hoped was
water,
I had been scratched, fallen and rolled a bit, covering my jeans
and
bra in moist dark brown dirt, and sastified the hunger of a few
mosquitoes. Which I hoped were just carrying spit.
I had started to long for the place I was used to, a university
campus smothered in cement, and crisscrossed with orderly paths
leading
to brick or even more cement. The university loved cement. It
was
relatively cheap, could be used in many civil projects, and the
color
blended with any part of the campus. That's what happens when
you go to
a state university, no Victorian brick buildings covered in ivy,
with stately
white columns holding up the roof. Right now, as I brushed another
branch aside, ivy could stay out of the picture.
The sound
of water was getting louder...
At hearing the
faint characteristic sound of water rushing, I started
to stumble down the hill faster. The sun was still going down,
casting
the last of its rays into the sky, making the air slighty less
humid.
The greenness shining down through the tree leaves was fading
out... I
could see the sky was turning from turquiose to purple through
the
breaks in the forest top.
I brushed some
of the dirt off me, and swatted at a lone mosquito that
was whining near my ear. One thing I wouldn't have to worry about
in the
water was getting sucked dry by these parasites. The hill was
slowly
leveling out, no longer at an angle that made it easier to just
give up
and roll than bother walking upright. The UMass sweatshirt that
I had tied
around my waist bumped against the back of my thighs as I broke
into a
run at the glimpse of light reflecting off water.
I dodged through
the trees, ducking under vines, feeling the air getting
cooler and cooler with the mist coming off the water. I stopped
dead at the
edge and ripped off the dirt-covered clothes I still had on.
Bending
over, I grabbed each foot and untied my sneakers, dumping them
besides the
clothes.
No wonder I had
heard this at the top of that hill. I was facing pools
collected in between huge chunks of rock, constantly filling
and emptying
from the force of the falls that started hundreds of feet above
my head.
The air around where the falls hit, the largest pool was filled
with what
looked like fog. Water splashed back up off the rocks at the
base. The rocks
were eroded in places from the action of water flowing over them,
resulting
in tiny pools full of warmer water. It was all perfectly clear,
and smelled
wonderful. I walked down the bank of the river a bit, looking
for a place
where I wouldn't get sucked under. About fifty feet away from
my clothes, I
stepped onto a rock that came up to the ground, and sat down.
Sticking a
foot in, I sighed. Cool. Clean. I slid in, gasping as the water
level rose
up around me.
Even here, the
water was frothy, swirling around me. I took a deep breath
and dove under, scrubbing the dirt off my skin and shaking my
head. Grabbing
a couple handfuls of sand, I rubbed them against my face. Without
a bar of
Ivory, this would be fine. After getting sufficiently cold, red,
and clean,
I started moving towards the water's edge. As I was paddling
towards the
bank, I caught a flash of movement out of the side of my eye,
and turned
my head a little. I found myself staring into the profile of
a leopard that
was taking a drink of its own about twenty feet away from me.
I felt every drop
of blood drain from my face. It felt like it was emptying
into my feet. My eyes were fixed on it, and I couldn't seem to
be able to
move. Trying to get control, I took a few shallow breaths, then
a huge deep
one, and slipped under the water. Thank god I didn't smoke I
thought, looking
up at the light playing over the water's top. As a kid, I had
once freaked
my mother out by holding my breath underwater, seeing how long
I could do
it. I had succeeded in staying under for about two minutes, long
enough to
make her think I had drowned and was stuck underwater. She had
dove in after
me, only for me to come up as she was next to where I was holding
onto
the bottom of the dock. Heh, she was not amused. I could only
hope my lung
capacity had grown as I did. This was definitely not the way
I ever envisioned
it being tested though.
My lungs were just
starting to burn. I tried to conserve air by not moving
at all, but it was hard to stay under the water without moving
my hands.
How thirsty could that thing be? Man, I hoped it hadn't decided
to go for a
swim too. Just a little way longer, little while, little... My
head felt
like it was going to explode, filling up with blood. If I didn't
come up
soon, I would just pass out and start inhaling water. My chances
were
probably better if I went up. Thoughts like this were battling
in my mind
as I started to black out. Taking my chances, I let myself rise
up to the
surface, taking in a huge gulp of air, surprised by the loud
gasp. It was
gone. Or it was not in that specific spot anyway.
How stupid I had
been. This was not some ideal Garden of Eden. It had its
predators, tiny as mosquitoes or as large as the overgrown housecat
I had
just encountered. And I had nothing with which to defend myself,
or to
make a weapon with. Being human had some definite drawbacks.
Evolving
from a creature that once had fur, long claws, and large threatening
canines,
we were now basically a walking slab of meat. Being an anthropology
major
had taught me a few things about making arrow and spear heads
out of rock,
but I never had a chance to actually practice what had been diagramed
in my
books. I guess this was going to be real learning experience,
if I survived
it anyway.
I pulled myself
up onto the rock, and just lay there for a second. Looking
up at the open sky, I knew pretty soon I would have to find somewhere
to
hide from the even bigger beasts that came out at night to hunt.
It was not
an appealing prospect to spend the night in a tree. Maybe if
I could get a
fire going, I could stay on the ground at least for part of the
night. I
scrambled up and went over to my clothes. Picking them up, I
sniffed them.
Phew. No laundromat around here though. I went over to the edge
again and
swished them around in the water.
The sweatshirt would take a long time to dry but I didn't see
myself wearing
it anytime soon. I grabbed the wet jeans at the knees, where
they had worn
holes and ripped. Shorts would be a lot cooler. I put on the
wet bra and
shorts and turned towards the trees.
About an hour later,
I had cleared out a small area of leaves and sticks,
beneath a large climbable tree, and had a tiny fire burning.
The friction
way of starting a fire was definitely not as easy as my Girl
Scout leaders
had told me. Matter of fact, I think they used balsa wood. No
fair. But as
I fed in larger sticks, making sparks fly up, I was sastified.
By the time
the moon had risen, it was a very bright blaze. I had gathered
more wood
to keep feeding it in a pile next to me. I sat with my hands
around my
knees, looking fearfully out beyond the light the flames cast.
I kept
hearing weird cries of animals, probably monkeys. At least if
they were
making noise, I knew where they were.
The moon seemed
unusually bright, and the stars looked like they were
barely above the trees. I could see the craters and "lakes"
on its surface,
making up the face. The Man in the Moon. Made of cheese. The
nursery rhymes
didn't fit here. I closed my eyes for a second. They were smarting
from
the smoke. I squeezed them hard, getting tears to clear them.
I felt myself
yawn. Suddenly I felt very tired. Well, I couldn't sleep here,
it was too
vulnerable. I got up and stretched, going to the lowest branch
of the tree.
I grabbed it and swung myself up. I hadn't climbed a tree since
I was
thirteen, and had never slept in one. How did you keep from falling
out?
Hmmm. I moved up higher into it, settling into a spot where two
limbs meet.
Closing my eyes, I prepared for an uncomfortable night. Before
long, I
didn't notice the cramped way I was feeling.
Just a little bit
before dawn, I woke up, shivering. I wished my sweatshirt
was dry. Too bad if I put it on now, I'd only be colder in a
few minutes.
I crossed my arms over my chest, and rubbed my arms. Couple hours
from now,
the sun would make this warm again. I was probably cold from
my metabolism
slowing down. As I sat in the tree looking out over the view
I began to
get warm again, and felt myself falling back asleep.
I woke up with
the sun shining down onto my face, the tree swaying a little
in the breeze. My neck felt like it had been bent at a ninety
degree angle
all night. It probably had been actually. I twisted my head around
to meet
my shoulder, pressing my ear to it, then switched sides. After
hearing a
tiny crack, I grinned. Much better, I muttered. I looked down
at the
remains of the fire. Just a bunch of charred wood, with some
ashes around it.
Enough to keep me safe though. I stretched out my legs to get
down, and
swung around so that I was hanging from all fours from the low
branch. That's
when I heard a "snap". Very faint. I looked around
me to see myself looking
at a person. Lots of persons actually. Oh my, I whispered. Problem.
A big
one. They didn't look angry, but those spears and bows and arrows
looked
like they could be painful. One stepped up to the tree I was
haphazardly
hanging from, and gestured towards the ground. Unfortunately,
that seemed
pretty clear. I sighed, and let go, dropping to the ground. I
was immediately
surrounded, and they prodded me to walk in line with them as
they started
off.
Considering what
they were wearing, I felt like I was dressed for the North
Pole. Loincloths and bead necklaces, with leather thongs around
their
ankles and wrists was the extent of their clothing. Not that
they were
carrying any extra poundage that required camouflage. I looked
ahead of
me at the man walking stoically ahead, keeping time with his
spear. His
leg muscles were highly defined. And they went all the way up
to... I
coughed, smiling. Too bad some guys at UMass didn't go for loincloths.
The men ranged in height from about 5'8'' to 6'0, having shoulder-length
hair that was a deep black, and brown skin that had a golden
tinge. The
youngest looked about sixteen, the oldest, thirty. Wherever their
destination
was, I figured the rest of the people, including the older men
and the
women, were waiting. Maybe they had gone out to do a little hunting,
and...
and... Oh no! Nah, that was ridiculous. If they were cannibals,
I don't think
they would be letting me walk freely with them. I would probably
be trussed
up like a Thanksgiving turkey instead. Least that was what I
reassured
myself.
We were now on
a barely visible path, walking north. We were walking roughly
along the river, I could still hear it burbling somewhere beside
us. Why I
was bothering to keep track, I didn't know. It wasn't like I
had a house or
camp to return to where I was before. Just my sweatshirt and
sneakers. And
I didn't think I could survive for long here by myself. But maybe
my chances
in the woods were better than whatever was awaiting me at their
camp. I
wasn't sure. If I was going to make a run for it, now wouldn't
be the best
time. I didn't know the area, they did. I didn't have anything
to defend
myself with, they could poke me full of more holes than a colander.
They
also outnumbered me and could also undoubtedly run a hell of
a lot faster.
I resigned myself to going wherever they were going. Later tonight,
when
everybody was asleep, or at least almost everybody was, I would
take off it
it looked bad.
A few more miles
later, my nose picked up the smell of wood smoke, and
meat cooking. I hadn't realized how hungry I had been until my
mouth
started watering. Hmm, maybe they'd feed me. Or eat me....
At the smell of
wood smoke mixed with the smell of meat cooking,
thoughts of hot, succulent, juicy, tender flesh filling my mouth
ran through my head. Unfortunately, this reminded me they might
be
thinking the same thing, except perhaps I'd be the main course.
Talk
about losing your appetite. I turned my head to look into the
woods
again longingly. Least the animals in there had low IQs...
The path here was
more obvious, having branches leading off, the soil
tramped down. Through the trees, I saw something yellow. Thatched
huts.
We turned into the large clearing, the men in front of me being
greeted
by women and children. I was stopped near the huge firepit in
the center,
with the huts in a circle all around me. The others came up to
me, emerging
from under the shaded roofs extending out over the doors.
The women kept
lifting up my hair and smelling it, and poking my arms. I
guess my light hair and skin were an oddity. I stared back at
them as much
as they looked at me. One woman was so close to me I could feel
her body heat.
I looked at her in return. She had deep brown eyes, so dark they
were like
earth after a rain storm, black, ancient. The wisdom I saw in
them contrasted
with the youth of her body... She wore nothing over her breasts,
instead
just a simple belt of green plants, plaited together, around
her waist and
between her legs, fronds hanging down over her thighs. She also
wore beads,
these looped around her ankles, white and tiny, they looked almost
like
pearls. Her hair was damp, clinging to her shoulders as she bent
her head
to look at me more closely. I could see amusement in her eyes.
She probably
thought I was very brash.
Apparently living
here didn't result in the sad, stressed, tired faces
that I saw constantly at school. I didn't believe there was anyone
at college
that was taking classes just for the learning experience. Instead,
it was
to further their career goals. If they were lucky, it was in
a field they
loved or liked, but more often than not, it was a major in which
they would
just get a high-paying job when they graduated. Work in order
to play.
Reading hundreds of pages a week, if they kept up. Conversation
over meals
was of the latest test failed or passed, homeworks done or behind
in,
professor's antics. Sometimes the whole thing got to me. The
drive to get
A's, the complaints about failures, the cramming, the worrying
about grades.
Once in a while, I would look around and think it was all ridiculous.
Look
how far we had come, Western civilization, poor students going
insane to
guarantee themselves a good living. Maybe as good as their parents.
It was
all crazy. But it didn't matter now. I really couldn't think
of the
university here. It was too strange...
I looked down suddenly
as I felt someone grab my leg in a sweaty sticky
grasp. Into the face of a tiny child, who looked up at me, his
eyes huge.
He swayed on his short stubby legs, and dug his nails into my
skin. I
grimaced, and bent down. Prying off his fingers, I gently sat
him down
on the ground and stared sternly at him. He looked bewildered...
I stuck
my tongue out then smiled. I could tell he was thinking I was
insane.
I was beginning to think I was too. Playing with a baby, in a
village in
what I thought was the tropical forest surrounding the Amazon,
captured
by a people who I didn't understand. I had no idea if I would
survive
the night and here I was, smiling at a kid sitting in the dirt.
As I
came out of my own thoughts, I noticed the women were smiling
at me.
Behind them, a few men grinned too, laughing and sticking their
tongues
out at each other. They thought it was hilarious, all of them.
I don't think
I had ever been so relieved in my life. Or tired and hungry.
I sat down on
a log behind me, and put my head in my arms. I didn't care if
they got
upset, I was too sore and irritable to care.
I felt someone
grabbing my arms. Yes, so I had been wrong. Here I went to
get perforated, baked, and chopped up. Oh well, at least I'd
get to sleep
after it all. I opened my eyes, to see two women smiling at me,
trying to
get me to stand up. I reluctantly got up and let them walk me
towards a
hut on the other side of the fire pit. Yep, food processor time.
But why
were they smiling?
We came to the
entrance of the thatched shelter, and they bent down a little
to avoid hitting their heads. Ducking my head, I followed them
in. Once
inside, I looked around. It was almost totally dark inside so
it took a
few seconds for my eyes to get used to the light. As the light
got brighter,
I noticed there were hammocks hanging limply from the poles that
held up
the roof, swaying a little in the breeze from the door. They
were made of
net, the strands woven from some kind of plants. Beyond the hammocks,
which
I was tempted to get into, the floor was simply dirt, packed
down hard from
the feet that had passed over it. There was a rack on the wall,
near the
door, holding up herbs that dried out of reach of rain. Other
than a few
wooden containers that lay along the base of the wall, there
wasn't much
else. I looked around for my guardians. They were sitting on
some grass
mats, over on the other side. As I looked at them, I noticed
they were
very self-absorbed, talking to each other excitedly. I thought
of running,
but was unsure. I turned back to look at the door, when I heard
one of
them raise her voice. Startled, I jumped, to see her only gesturing
for me
to come to her. Well, if I was wanted dead, they wouldn't have
left
me to them. Or let me walk around freely. Gradually it dawned
on me that
I would be left to live, and that they didn't mean to hurt me.
What then?
As I approached,
they rose to their feet. Nervously I noticed they were
looking intently at my clothes. Now what? Next to them, I suddenly
realized
what was going to happen, and turned around, to run out. No way,
I was not
going to get stripped. I couldn't see myself wearing just a few
leaves.
Despite my protesting and thrashing around, in the matter of
a minute, I was
naked, trying to cover myself from the sight of the others that
had gathered
at the door, curious to see what all the yelling was about. I
blushed,
embarassed and pissed off. I bent down, pushing my way to my
clothes that
had been trampled on the floor. One of the women laughed and
grabbed me,
the other grabbed the clothes and run outside with them. This
was not turning
out well.
"Arrrrrrgh!"
I yelled, and stamped my foot in sheer frustration. I swore
and stomped to the door, trying to ignore the giggles and eyes.
I looked
out, and saw the woman who had taken my shorts and bra toss them
casually
into the coals. Within seconds, smoke rose up and I smelled the
end of my
modesty. Great, modern bra burning (Well, I suppose they were
pretty close
to hippies, minus the Birkenstocks). I went and sat down in a
hammock,
carefully keeping my eyes on the floor. Pretty soon, I stopped
hearing
whispering and looked up to see I was alone.
Alone. I leaned
back into the hammock, stretching out. I no longer
thought of escape. The forest was undoubtedly more dangerous
than these
people were. Even though they burned my bra... I laughed to myself.
As I
looked up at the underside of the thatch, and the tiny chinks
in it that
let in the diffused sunlight, I felt my thoughts slowing down,
and my
eyes closing. Small sounds from outside filtered into my consciousness,
but I ignored them and soon was in a deep sleep. No dreams during
this
one, I slept like the dead.
And as long I realized.
Opening my eyes, I sat up, sure I'd heard my alarm
go off. It had! I sat in my bed, in my dorm room, with my quilt
tossed
around me, dressed in my nightshirt. I rubbed my eyes, not sure
this was
real. The alarm was still buzzing. I turned the clock around,
watching the
dial turning smoothly, unwinding. I pushed in the alarm, shutting
it off.
It was Sunday, I must have set it last night for some stupid
reason. Oh
well, I had enough time to go back to sleep. Nothing due Monday,
so why get
up early. I pulled the comforter back up, and settled my head
into the
pillow. What had I been dreaming? Damn, I couldn't remember!
Before long, I
fell back into that grey area where you weren't quite asleep,
then nothing.
Just before I went out, for some reason I felt like the bed was
falling
out from under me, dropping out and down, swirling away into
nothingness,
total blackness broken only by the flashes of color from dreams.
I rolled over,
feeling the net of the hammock come unstuck from my bare
skin. I reached down, rubbing the place where I had a copy of
the
pattern impressed, bright red. Closing my eyes again, I realized
it was
hopeless. I was up. I sighed, and sat up. Swinging my feet around,
I
jumped to the floor. Outside the door, twilight was falling.
I must have
slept forever... Going to the door, I saw people sitting around
the
flames, their faces painted a flickering orange. The sky had
turned a deep
blue, except for the bottom towards the earth, which was still
a fading red
and orange from the setting sun. Far above my head, a few of
the brightest
stars had come out. Venus, cold blue white, stared down from
her throne. I
smelled meat and something else cooking, as the wind blew the
smoke towards
me standing in the doorway.
At the twisting
and growling of my stomach, I felt myself going up to the
foot of the fire. I sat down next to a man who was busily eating
the meat
off a large bone, ripping off bits with his teeth. It smelled
delicious.
Even the grease on his hands looked appetizing. He looked up,
noticing I
was blankly staring at the meat he held in his hands. Keeping
my eye, he
turned around, and pointed towards the other side of the fire.
I followed
his finger, to see where some indeterminate animal was roasting,
suspended
over the fire on a green wood frame. People had gathered around
it, and
one at a time reached to it, taking what they wanted. I nodded,
smiling,
and got up. Before long, I had eaten enough so that the mere
thought of
food made my eyes cross. I went and sat under a tree at the edge
of the
clearing, to let my stomach relax. Now I remembered how I felt
when I left
my grandmother's every Thanksgiving. I vaguely wondered what
that had been
that I had eagerly eaten. Maybe it was better not to know until
later.
I lay at the tree's
base, watching mothers play with children, children
lightly fighting with each other, and men doing the male-bonding
thing,
comparing spears and telling stories. As time passed, more and
more of
the crowd gathered around the men telling stories, sitting with
their arms
crossed over their knees, staring intently at the teller. He
gestured
wildly, waving his hands around, and making extraordinary faces.
Curious,
I got up and sat next to some children to listen. True, I couldn't
understand the language but it was fun to watch anyway. I could
tell what
was supposed to be the scary bits, and the funny parts, and had
the correct
reactions. The night got darker, the sun totally disappearing.
The stars
brightened, and the fire got hotter as people threw more wood
on it. The
smoke kept away the mosquitoes quite well, I was happy to discover.
The
stories ended, and some people drifted off towards the huts,
fuzzy shapes
off in the darkness.
Others got up and
sat around another figure, who bent over a bowl he held
in his lap. I rose and went to go see what was going on. Between
his legs,
he held a long hollow reed, like a smaller version of a blow
gun. He was
grinding up something, and mixing it with a powder he poured
into the bowl
from a gourd by his feet. I leaned over the shoulder of a man
in front of me.
The powder was a faint odd shade of green, bits of it were moist,
making
little balls that the man crushed out, grinding them against
the side of
the container. Listening to people talk around me, their voices
sounded
hushed, excited. I was becoming more and more curious to know
what it was.
Was he going to perform a ritual? A religious ceremony? All of
these and
other anthropology catechisms occurred to me, but none of them
seemed right.
I had no idea what he was doing. I guess I'd just have to wait
and see.
People had sat
down to wait. I did the same. He reached down and put the
bowl near the coals, to get it warm and dry it... Then he retrieved
a
small round container that had been next to the gourd by his
feet. The
women in the group moved back to let the men forward, who crowded
closer
to him, and knelt. This was getting more bizarre but it was definitely
educational. He pulled off the lid and dipped his fingers into
the small
globe. They came out covered with what looked like a thick white
paint.
Which is exactly what it was. He smeared it onto the faces of
the men, and
their bodies, in intricate patterns. When he was done, the men
had been
transformed from ordinary to supernatural looking beings, the
firelight
giving their eyes an eerie glint, and their muscles a higher
definition.
One near me had swirls coming down over his biceps, turning into
bold
stripes that ended at his fingertips, and bars widening and narrowing
up
and down his legs. His hair was pulled back to reveal high cheekbones,
and a wide sensual mouth. I realized I was staring rather blatantly
at
him when he turned and returned my look. As he looked me over,
I remembered
one important fact that had escaped my mind hanging out with
99% naked
people. I myself was absolutely naked, sitting there with my
arms around
my knees. When our eyes met, I wasn't sure what to do, I felt
both
ashamed and aroused. Looking away seemed the best choice. I felt
someone
poke me from behind. It was the woman who had burned my clothes.
She
had a conspiratorial look in her eyes, and she winked. I couldn't
believe
I had seen that. Must have been a trick of the light. I turned
around,
confused.
The powder had
dried. I watched the older man pull it up and stir it
experimentally with his finger, and made a sound of sastifaction.
It
had some kind of mildly oily nature that made it leave a residue,
but
I saw some of it get caught in the breeze and mix with the dirt
beneath
his feet. The men were silent but the women chattered happily.
Dessert?
An aphrodesiac? A hallacinogen? More questions but no answers
yet...
The elder got up, and taking a bit of the powder between his
thumb and
forefinger, inserted it into the opening of the reed. The man
closest to
him raised his head, proudly jutting his chin out. I watched
as the older
man put the end of the reed to one of his nostrils, and taking
a deep breath,
expelled it hard. The painted man fell back, landing awkwardly.
Two near
him took him in their arms, as he started to jerkily convulse.
This lasted
about a minute, then he stood, and began to dance, wildly. He
circled the
fire, his eyes crazed. Whatever that powder was, it was powerful.
And
frightening. The women were quiet now, watching as one after
the other took
it. I sat at the end, when the last man took it. He came to me
next. He
looked at me quizically, lifting one eyebrow, and the reed in
his hand.
I turned around to see what the women were going to do. They
shook their
heads at my questioning face. I turned back, looking beyond the
reed to
the men who stamped and twisted, illuminated by the fire's light.
They
didn't look real. None of this did. Maybe it was all a dream.
So, if it
was, might as well do the impossible in it.
I raised my head,
and looked into his eyes. I'm not afraid, I said, even
though I knew he couldn't understand my words. Part of me shrank
back as
he put the drug near me but physically I hardened myself for
it. The
reed was smooth, cold. I felt him move slightly as he took a
deep breath,
then felt the warmth of his breath in my lungs, then an explosion.
I tasted
something strange and coppery on my tongue, but didn't comprehend
it.
My body was out of control, I felt my limbs moving spasmodically,
dimly aware
of arms on me. I felt like my mind had been ripped out of my
body...and
saw the forest in front of me suddenly. It was different, dark.
The trees
flashed past me as I ran, leaping over fallen branches. My muscles
seemed
like liquid power, the sheer act of moving was incredibly pleasurable.
My
breath came to me easily, rhythmatically. But the way I moved,
the feelings,
were different. I looked down at myself, and saw paws. Black
as space, the
moonlight shining off the curve up into the leg, into the bunched
muscle.
Panther. Chasing its prey, which ran in front of me, wildly crashing
along.
I could smell the fear coming from it. It was acrid, bright white.
It saw
its death and ran. I had been only pursuing before, but now I
hunted. A
massive gathering and leap, over the stick-like legs jerking,
to a throat
betrayed by a fragile jugular fluttering underneath. A scream
resounded in
my ears but I ignored it as it gradually faded to an imaginary
echo. The
blood, red, hot, bitter flowed into me and I was sastified.
Somewhere far beneath
me, my body rose and began to dance, gesturing to the
fire, bending to its primal heat. I saw the flickering colors
in it, and
was fascinated by the waves of blue and pure white that moved
inside the red.
The coals, half buried in grey dry ash, looked like magical stones,
the
heat moving across their surface like unearthly water. I danced
for them,
until I fell to my knees in exhaustion. My body had betrayed
me but the earth
still accepted me. I curled up into a fetal position, breathing
in gasps.
Someone touched
me and I found myself rising into a leap, bound to run. I
looked into the face of the painted man, who had been the first
to take the
powder. I didn't recognize him, but at his touch, I trembled.
His eyes
darkened, and he reached out again. His hand brushed over my
shoulder, almost
absentmindedly. His pretended distraction was a lie, I could
see his tension
reflected in his mouth and body. At his touch to my lips, I froze.
His hand came away red, shiny in the dying light of the coals.
I realized the
blood in my mouth had been my own, biting my tongue.
It wasn't bad. I turned and spat into the flames, hearing the
hiss, and
wiped my mouth on my hand. What did he want? His fingers on my
lips had felt
electrifying... I reached up, gingerly feeling my tongue. He
mirrored my
actions, putting his finger between his lips and tasting my blood.
I watched
this, mesmerized.
He licked his lips,
slowly. I never thought that gesture could be extremely
erotic until now. I could see his lips were tinged red still...
I felt
myself moving closer to him, then tasting his mouth. He put his
arms around
me, pulling me closer and down. Running my hands up his arms,
I felt the
hardness of the muscles under the smooth skin. The dried paint
was slightly
rough. I felt it against the back of my neck. I raised myself
a bit, enough
to kiss him, arms running down his body. There is a strange thing
when you
kiss someone, someone who is good at it that is. You lose yourself
in it,
sometimes even more than during the start of sex. Your eyes close.
It's pitch
dark. You wait, anticipating the first touch of lips against
yours. They are
soft, warm, moist. The wetness tastes cool, like a stream on
a blisteringly
hot summer day. You drink it and drink it and you never get enough.
You press
your body against his, opening your mouth to him. More more but
you can't get
close enough. There is only one way to be sastified... I felt
him caress my
breast. The nipple was hard, so I felt every nuace of his fingertip.
It
slowly circled, then he lightly pinched the tip. I groaned, feeling
it like
a hot bruise between my legs.
I could feel him,
hard, pressing against me. Urgent purpose, so serious.
This was truly something to be serious about, the search for
pleasure. It
was a release from the everyday pains of life, taking you out
of yourself
more than any drug could. For some reason, maybe it was the powder,
but
my skin seemed to be more sensitive than normal, and the most
bizarre
thoughts kept occurring to me. As his hair, now released, dragged
over my
breasts, I felt it like a broom, made of the softest bristles.
His mouth
took in a nipple, sucking on it, flicking his tongue over it,
lightly
biting. Ah... I moaned, stretching my body out. The dirt was
cold, rough
against my back, making his skin seem more silkily warm. He had
removed
his cloth. I closed my hand around him, surprised at the heat.
The skin was
as soft as the inside of a lip. At the same time I touched him,
he ran a
finger into me, his thumb going between the lips, to the top.
The combined
feel of his teeth on my nipple, and his hand touching me made
me inhale
sharply. He found the wetness in me, drawing it out, caressing.
His hand
began to move faster, freed by the slickness. I felt open, very
warm. My
legs felt sluggish, but my heart was beating fast. The pulse
at my neck
attracted his attention, as he bent to it and bit lightly.
My hips rose to
him uncontrollably, moving in time to his demands. I gasped
in time to the too brief movements of his thumb over my clitoris...
But
suddenly it became exactly right. I anticipated each stroke in
my mind,
feeling it building up. The fragile link to the climax grew stronger,
and I
knew it was inevitable. Just as I arched to him, he moved from
above me to
between my legs, pulling his hand away. The fever of my movements
slowed,
and I despaired at the lose of what had been so close. He surprised
me
by sliding his legs between mine, spreading my legs apart and
moving up and
into me. His fullness made me realize how empty I had been before,
not
knowing. He slipped in deeper, going exquisitely slow... Moving
through the tightness. I ran my hands up his back, resting them
on his
shoulderblades, and raised my legs so that my feet came to his
calves.
Feeling his muscles bunch beneath my hands, and his hips begin
to move
against mine, I was silent. Only our breathing broke the quiet
of the night
beside the whispering coals, falling in on themselves. As the
wind moved
the ashes, and blew the coals into a temporary glorious brightness,
we made
love. Connected to him, I imagined our blood flowing together.
Back
and forth from him to me, as he slid in and out again and again.
I ran my
hand under his soft hair, letting it run over my hand like water,
turning
to kiss his mouth again. He raised his head from against my neck,
stroking
my hair, and returning the kiss. As we moved against each other,
I felt
his breath in my mouth. Warm and sweet. I breathed it in, and
felt his
lips moving away as he raised himselves up onto his arms and
looked down
at me.
Above his head,
the waning moon looked down voyeuristically. His eyes were
black, shining only in the silvery blue light that fell down
onto the
clearing. I lifted my hands to touch his chest, running my fingers
over
his nipples. Dark brown circles on a field with a coppery sheen,
moistened
by his sweat. I stroked them, watching his eyes half close. His
breathing
was deepening. His hair, long black sheafs, slid over his shoulders
as
he bent forward and back. The moon's glowing whiteness shone
down... I looked
up at it, beyond him. His movements kept me there only. The orgasm
was
very close, but I continued to stare at the sterile silver lakes
and
mountains so many miles away. I drew in a deep breath, feeling
the heat
opening me up again, losing my mind for that brief moment. His
cry was
sharp... I heard it, deaf to my own.
Winding down, he
leaned down to me, whispering something I couldn't know,
and kissing me gently. I closed my eyes, feeling my heart move
in time
with his, as he pressed against my chest. It was all drifting
off again,
falling away, to blackness. Soft fields of nothingness, that
reached out
to me.
I opened my eyes.
I was looking up at a bare white ceiling, broken by the
fixture of the plainly functional flouresecent the University
had
installed. It was over, and I remembered. Gathering up the energy,
I sat up.
The sun was rising outside, over the bare trees of Sylvan. The
leaves had
drifted down, littering the ground with peels of orange, rust,
and red. The
sky was covered by heavy sullen-looking fall clouds. I felt a
wetness in my
eyes that beaded into a tear that fell from my cheek to the comforter.
I looked down to watch it land, soaking slowly into the comforter.
As
my eyes moved over the comforter, I felt my lips turn up into
a smile.
On the comforter's cotton surface lay a single leaf, such a bright
green
it looked like an emerald jewel in that dull dorm room. Picking
it up,
I put it on the bedside table, and got up for the shower. Another
day,
another class....
----The End---- |