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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1734550-Inkas-Dream-Catcher
Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Fantasy · #1734550
Inspired by the emotion-evoking paintings of Inka Essenhigh.
Pine limbs scraped – scratched for my flesh. Their needles grazed across my skin with the cold elegance and grace of a ballet dancer. The wind could not penetrate this fortress. I found myself enveloped in a smog of blackness, marked by the splintered edges of forest not quite distinct; yet lacking ambiguity.
I wandered as the hunter wanders; knowing neither the destination, nor the path by which to follow. I stalked my prey with animal instinct; not allowing my fear and anxiety to smother my performance (the last thing a predator wants is her musk to deceive her and scream warning to those she stalks). But had I known there was no prey to stalk, I might’ve stayed within my lair and savored the cracking and smoking of the small hearth fire.
Closing my eyes made nearly no difference; blackness smothers the clear-headed, the blind and the deceased with equal viscosity. My hands would scrape against a trunk, its skin scaly and rough from the winter chill. Its arms might extend to grant a friendly greeting, or to touch life as it had so desperately missed before. Within that brief moment of embrace, its beating heart would thump slowly – oh so slowly – throughout my fingers; my hands; limbs; back and chest. Within each timber-shadow the presence was felt – a presence I’ve since not felt to my dismay. A girl might feel her euphoria rise, her stomach churn and legs tremble. Walking along the rock-strewn path, I felt neither. My limbs were rigid, my senses keen; my eyes gazing about to miss nothing unseen. A root may crack – its breaking I’d hear; but expectation prepared me and I’d feel anything but fright. The fog would shift and the layer of forest I had once fixated my gaze on would disappear like a stone into the sea – a new layer would appear, revealing a different window of the forest I didn’t expect would be.
Through the fog’s omnipotence glared the smallest light of candle flame I’ve seen. It danced about its humid cocoon, gasping for fuel and oxygen, praying to God to keep it alive. My pace had quickened with this destination in sight – but the closer I came, the smaller the flickering flame became. My hand outstretched, I reached in desperation to capture the light; but in the moment of my fingers’ closing, the flame flickered a final time, and disappeared into the night. Weeping seemed a friendly vice, but just as salty tears began to well, a most-luxurious scent blew against my face. Its scent I wish I could describe, but making such an attempt would only disgrace its beauty and purity. So in this case I must break my form:
Fires burn within my soul,
beginning slowly without a sound.
Then with haste infernos roll
to summit the peaks of this depress’d mound.
Across the hills the grasses burn;
bursting, screaming with the fatal touch.
If not for the mighty storm,
a landscape’s gown would be so much.
Waters fall, cascade to earth
in torrent sheets much like His quilt.
And so His breath rushes through the hearth
to reconnect the things he’s built.

Like a child to her mother’s breast, I let this scent take hold of me. It grabbed me by the fingertips, the lips and the eye lids, and guided me through this dingy labyrinth. The needles brushed and massaged my skin. The limbs danced across my shoulders and back like a silken cloak. It wasn’t long until the mist diluted, and it was here I saw the labyrinth’s marshes.
At my feet appeared frost-crusted reeds of green and gray, tundra tufts sprouting from the ground like tiny radishes in my mother’s garden at home. Thick at first, they gradually dove into the icy water of a tiny pond, dozing into a winter slumber. Rock had formed the other banks some time before; but now the snow had fallen so heavily, the water glinted from the cloudy expanse. Blankets smothered the crisp night in fog, creating a blackness that was dull and impure. The scent had left me like a fine lover’s touch, and I stood by the water’s edge in bewilderment wondering what was to come next.
Ripples swept across the glass like a storm on the horizon; at first so soft and quiet, then rapid with mighty waves. From the middle the water began to bubble and boil, the water bursting in frozen tears. Within the moment of the pond’s erupting from the earth, a mighty stone rose from the frothing abyss.
I stood in shock and wonder; curious as to the stone’s purpose and frightened for the water’s tide – but the pond’s level never rose or fell. Despite the rampant frothing of the surge, the ripples grew and faded into the ice and reeds as if the pond existed beneath a mighty shelf.
Cracks began to chisel the rock; fissures chipped the peak and through the gaps emitted a blinding glow of yellow and red. The cracks spread quickly across the face; the light forcing its way out of its prison. Pebbles and dust stumbled into the waiting water, engulfing the jewels like a gorged beast. As the fissures expanded, it came to my bewilderment that the glow was not a light at all; but a viscous sludge of an origin unknown. Slowly it crept across surface, its form pulsating as if alive. It slithered in a winding track along the waves, searching for its destination.
In a stupor I had not perceived, my body stayed in wait for the sludge’s greeting. To my feet the sludge ceased its trek; a purring kitten waiting for the soothing stroke of an owner’s hand. Wafting to my nostrils the scent struck me once again. The frigid air mattered little to my senses; warmth swarmed my being and I nestled my chin into the crook of its shoulder. Like a hummingbird my mind fluttered about the air, whistling a woodland tune of glory and safety.
The events that followed have no rational explanation. I acted on impulse that hasn’t a filter or judgment. As if it were as natural as the sun’s rise and fall, my feet shuffled from the icy reeds to the green and yellow trail. The sludge was soft and warm, indenting gently with each step of my bare feet. The yellow curled about my toes, embracing them to focus my gait toward the stone’s gaping mouth.
Oh how long my feet shuffled! A duration not dreadful or horrifying I must admit; a length of pleasure, of magic, of wonder that far exceeds any in comparison to normal earthly experience. The longer I strode, the slower I walked. Each step was savored like a bite of an exotic fruit never before eaten, and never to be eaten again. The fruit was sweet in parts, sour in others; slightly hinted with salt, and masked by fulfillment’s weight. Along the path I fluttered for eternity; until finally I reached the stone’s gaping arch.
The glare was soothingly blinding; an ignorance truly blissful and happily-embraced. My mind was empty, but my feet knew the purpose – I must enter this unknown abyss.
A cyclone’s girth squeezed my thighs; squeezed my hips; squeezed my shoulders and breasts. Paralyzed like a python’s prey I waited with lustful anticipation – for what I do not know - for the reaper’s gaff; the Savior’s touch; Satan’s breath; an angel’s kiss; inferno’s furnace; heaven’s embrace? My lips began to tingle, my stomach churned, and every muscle within my body quivered like a throbbing heart, waiting for my mental coitus.
But, this coitus was cut short. Within the moment of my body’s vulnerability, just as the bomb was ready to burst, the yellow glow transformed to an eerie violet; soon invaded by a charcoal fog. My muscles froze within an instant; breath cut short to prevent its freezing. Anxiety’s rush smashed through my chest as blindness nestled above my cheeks. As before in the biting forest, my arms extended to grope for guidance, hope, and life.
My groping was met by nothing. Chomping like a frenzied shark my fingers worked the frozen air to no avail. The temperature shot beneath my comfort, and within moments my fingers could chomp no more. The darkness squeezed about my throat, I gasped for breath that would not come. My tongue froze within my mouth, and the ice crept quickly into my lungs. Desperately I choked for breath and life, wishing I hadn’t stepped onto the glowing path.
Just as life began to drain, the vice released its lethal grip; and like a fragile doll my form collapsed onto the frozen, dying reeds.
The water softly lapped against my hand. I coughed and gasped for air, its nourishment fueling my senses with awareness and courage. In a flash I gazed across the dark horizon to see the lightly-rippled pond, its flanks straddled by the icy yoke. With an exhausted body, I forced my body to stand on its own. Gazing out across the water, a fire fly flew across the sky, dipped down in a furious attack, and quickly crashed into the water. Its glow remained for a moment or two; then grew again at an incredible rate. The yellow expanded across the pond’s expanse, and soon the entire pool was tinted bright yellow.
Although the scent escaped again, grabbing for my every sense, I turned a cheek to face the cold, and strode profoundly into the evergreen thicket.
# # #
Vibrant hues of orange, pink and red scattered and fluttered about the sky in their confetti-dance. Eyes flickered, danced to catch a glimpse of one; but the aimless flight was far too quick for the naked eye. Sitting in a daze seemed only proper as I watched the aerial collage sweep beautiful strokes across the dark green canvas.
There was one I saw that was calm in flight. It cast aside its innate rapidity, making the conscious decision to enjoy its journey. On the wings of the gentle breeze, the pink butterfly danced about the warm night’s sky. She fluttered to – she fluttered fro; no spot in mind or destination in sight. She was an innocent child on a tire swing, not knowing or caring that the world’s expanse was far greater than her current preoccupation. A downdraft brought her kiss upon my lips, her tiny feet lightly pricking my skin. As if she knew the perfect motion, she grazed her antennae along my cheek, shooting chills across my face that brought me to the day I’d met my only true lover.
Today was cold, I braced so hard;
the wind was careless, my skin it charred.
Surely fate had brought me out
to see her, I wouldn’t be without.
Thunder struck, lightning burst,
overcome by an immeasurable thirst.
Passion burned within our eyes
to me she ran to seize her prize.
Heat surged, loins constrict
waiting for our souls to fix.
Her satin wings swept around my cheeks and jaw. My eyes shut slowly, breathing in the radiant impulse. Just as my soul began to wake and emerge to meet this splendid creature, the pink sky painter returned to her canvas.
Displeasure weighing heavy on my shoulders, I gazed about the remaining landscape. Trees and brush were scattered about in forms I’d never seen before. The trees were tall lacking nearly all branches. Their trunks were smooth and soft, and in the breeze they waved about the sky like weightless fingers submerged in water. If the breeze came with enough force, their forms would sweep across the ground, reaching for the pollen-saturated grass. One agile branch swept wildly about the sky, tossing gentle sparks as it brushed the canvas. And then in one mighty sweep of its stalk, the limb danced quickly to where I lay. It snagged my foot so gently, and stood me up to face the grove I hadn’t seen.
Peering over the snake-like treetops, glaring out across the distance of waving brush stood an over-grown knoll peculiar in its placement among this extraordinary shawl. Against the dark green canvas the peak was nearly invisible, its grasses blending with the horizon like God’s finest watercolor. Atop this knoll emerged a tiny light that glowed so powerfully I couldn’t help but let intrigue strangle every inch of my being. Seeing the thickness of malleable branches only increasing across the land, my limbs found it necessary to scramble to the top of the dancing canopy and bound like a tiny rabbit to my destination.
To my amazement the trunks were smooth and easy to ascend. Squeezing with my calves and thighs like a gentle serpent I pulled myself to the flimsy top. The breeze was gentle – nearly insignificant – yet my malleable post swayed back and forth like an aging dandelion. The quiet breeze blew my hair about elegantly; I pictured myself in front of the camera once again, tilted hips and seductive lips. With every click of that voyeur’s eye, a piece of my soul was slowly drained and forever imprisoned. How I loved it.
I crouched just like a hungry tiger, waiting for the trunk to send me fro. Within the moment of the limb’s return, I leaped from my perch and clung to the next flexible arm. Across the waves I bounded well, each move I made swift and soft with precision. The candlelight pulsed, throbbed, and teased; it winked seductively with every gust of the breeze. I longed for its touch – I longed for it like I longed for my missing lover’s embrace.
My bounding didn’t go unrewarded; with every leap to another limb, the larger the pulsing light became. Overwhelmed by expanding intrigue, I bounded faster to the star-lit knoll.
Finally I leaped to the bridging stalk. On top the knoll rested the gorgeous yellow light, pulsing from it came scents unknown and heat so soft my skin tingled. The reeds were long and elegant, and stretched so hard to wisp my legs as I bounded through the swift entanglement. As I approached the glowing sphere, it began to expand upward, elongating into a transparent enclosure. The light emitted was rather blinding; so much in fact my eyes broke gaze as I walked up to the knoll’s peak. Just as I was about to graze the enclosure with my hand, the brightness ceased and standing within the glossed void was my long-lost lover, her body opaque and sleek, and her dark hair falling in waves about her shoulders and breasts.
Out of want I plunged my hand into the abyss – as if sliding into a warmed bath. Her hand extended longingly for mine; time seemed to exist no more. First her finger grazed the tip of mine - then her hand smothered and brought me in.
All was quiet except for our breath. She didn’t speak; but she didn’t need to. We stood together after the treacherous absence; her arms wrapped me up, and it was then my mind lifted high above the golden cloak to plant itself in the dark green canvas.
# # #
The sun’s rays felt warm and relaxing as I lay in the tall valley grass. My eyes closed and with a deep breath through my nose came a torrent of scents; freshly bloomed daisies, magnificent morning buds and tulips. Pollen swirled about the air, its sweetness intensified by the heat. The grass, fine as angel’s hair and equally as blonde and carefree, lazily wavered in the wind, brushing my face and neck so softly. Red leafed trees surrounded the golden sea like mighty ramparts, protecting me from any vulnerability and attack. As the wind swept through earth’s indentation, the golden hair moved as one, an orchestra of motion conducting by the sun and her energy. Insects of various sizes fluttered across the waves elegantly and gracefully; butterflies of fantastic pinks, oranges and reds appeared not as insects at all; but shooting stars through a space of molasses. The trees sensually wavered their brown trunks and red leaves swiftly and athletically. Their bud’s pollen would reach its arms into the inviting air, grab a gust as it drove by, and let the highway sweep it across the sea of golden hair to my face.
The delicious blend burrowed deep within my muscles and soul, and for the first time of my life I felt every mental and emotional void filled to the brim. My body felt complete, and my mind weightless and eased.
A beautiful creature drifted across the field from the thicket of dancing timber. Her head and torso appeared human, but her lower extremities disappeared into an elegant, romantically flowing, rose-colored linen. Her skin was perfect, as smooth as a riverbed stone that has had every blemish removed with the water’s constant motion and craft. Her hair was as gold as the grass, and flowed like silk as she drifted towards me.
When she was close, I could see her form was translucent, further mystifying me and creating a wave of infatuation and lust in my stomach and breast. Her form layed upon me like a delicate sheet, and her lips grazed mine with delicate care. Euphoria traveled from the moisture of her lips through mine, bursting in a surge of numbness across my face. Down my throat this numbing traveled; a welcomed poison to cure my sickness. My shoulders relaxed, my arms tingled; my lungs swelled and my body was enveloped in comfort. Time seemed to cease, the grass slowing its dance to a tiny whisper.
From the grassy waves my body rose, and with my beautiful siren, I drifted high above the valley, the grass continuing its erotic dance in synchronization.
© Copyright 2010 Fritz Steiner (falco318 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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