The First Ocean

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The wind blew into the woods, an invitation into the darkness. Bern stood between two trees, one foot still in the clearing. She looked behind her. The cabin – her cabin – looked inviting and warm. She had told “Jerri” she was going to get more wood for the fire – and for that strange meat in the pack. But who knew how long it would be before “Jerri,” – that creature – grew suspicious. And yet, standing there, facing the abyss, Bern hesitated.

Bern heard something clink inside the cabin. The monster picking up the kettle, perhaps. Gasping between the reverberations of her heart, Bern moved as fast as she could and carefully as she dared, through the two-foot-deep snow.

The path sloped downward, into the wood. It felt colder, the exact opposite of how it should feel. The sky was clear; it had stopped snowing. Bern climbed over fallen branches, her boots snapping twigs. She jumped. Was that a shadow behind that tree? She strained her ears to fathom whether the creature was following, whether it had picked up on where Bern had gone and had begun tracking her scent.

Somewhere, to the left, there was a crack, and Bern took off in a dead sprint, scrambling through the underbrush, getting covered by snow dropped from disturbed tree limbs. She ran for several minutes in a straight line, before darting off in a completely different direction and clambering beneath an ice-covered log.

All was silent. Bern heard nothing, besides the heavy scrape of her own breathing. She was sitting in days-old snow, and only then realized she was sweating and shivering.

She couldn’t go back to the cabin. She wondered how she would find her way back, even if the creature was not there. Her eyes darted around. She needed shelter. There were underground snow shelters one could dig, so as not to die of exposure, but there was also the chance of never waking up. She had to keep moving, keep her body moving. Had to keep warm.

Bern struggled out from under the log and looked around. Between the trees, a light glinted. Bern squinted. The light flashed again. A flashlight? Bern heard nothing from behind her, no rushed footfalls. There was the light again, moving steadily away. Another traveler? Apprehensive, Bern pulled one foot out of the snow, and then the other. The hiker with the flashlight picked up speed. “Hey!” Bern yelled, “Hey, you!”

Weary, Bern pursued, nearly stumbling over roots, and rocks, rolling underfoot, “Hey, you – stop! Hold on!”

Held by a frightened carrier, the light only began to recede into the night. Pushing her chest to expand faster, Bern tumbled after the figure. The trees rushed past alongside her; the pinprick of light was all she could see.

Bern found herself out, in another clearing, blinded by the sudden moonlight. An expanse of flat snow stretched out before her. Bern scanned for another human being, footprints, anything. Instead, there lay the crumbling ramparts of an old mansion, rotting there, in the forest, sparkling with snow.

Dumbstruck, Bern blinked her eyes. Her arms hung limp at her sides, heavy, swollen. The stars twinkled unabashedly. Body temperature falling fast, Bern pulled herself toward the sunken door and kicked it open. Once again, she was at the threshold of a new darkness. “Hello?” she said, peering around, eyes adjusting from the outside light.

Inside opened outward, like a cathedral. The foyer stood as it had before, but with shifted tiles. Frigid air blew in from broken windows. A hole in the ceiling provided a natural skylight. Twin staircases ran up to the second floor. Bern crossed the once-beautiful room and took the stairs up to one of the open bedrooms.

The room was a child’s room, with dolls and a rocking horse. Bern dug into her coat pockets, one after the other, until her numb fingers closed around two small magnesium-ferro rods. She broke the rocking chair into pieces, tore off the doll’s hair and heaped the rubbish in a small pile. She scraped the fire-starter together until a minute spark ignited the offering of kindling.

She blew gently on the flame and fed it with chips of board pulled up from the floor. She put her hands to the wave of heat, trying to get warm. She fed and fed the insatiable flame. She couldn’t let it go out. She eyed the bed posts greedily.

“Will you burn down the whole house?” a voice said.

Bern turned on her heel, fists balled. A woman, in a gown from ages, past stood in the doorway. She was made of light.

The fire went out, letting off black smoke. Water flooded the room. Bern looked around; water had flooded out to the entire horizon. She was standing in a sea, under a tumultuous sky.

Bern sank into the brine, her knees hitting a sandy bottom. The woman was at her side. She cradled Bern in her arms. Bern looked up into her face and saw that it was “Jerri.”

“You’re a monster,” Bern whispered.

Jerri smiled and looked down, right into her eyes, “But, I’m your monster.”

Batman Forever bat

Songs:

“All Along the Watchtower” – Jimi Hendrix

“Dazed and Confused” – Led Zeppelin

Fantaisie-Impromptu in C-Sharp Minor, Op. 66 – Chopin

Continued from Spirit Science

A Falsifiable Life

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The sky was the hardest azure overhead. Alli watched the faintest trails of clouds go by in the grass. The blades swayed around her head. From every which way, came the smell of new growth. A grasshopper bounded into view, and just as quickly, vanished.

A biplane puttered across the vista, made its way from one side of the sky to the other, leaving a ghostly line of exhaust. Alli lay there, with her arms stretched out on the ground. She closed her eyes. The world was alive, bustling, quaking with life in the summer – but at the same time, the land was tranquil, still, breathing.

A tiny flower touched Alli’s nose. Alli opened her eyes and saw Lara reaching over her. Lara in a white, lacy dress. Lara wearing a big, joking smile.

“Sleepyhead,” she said, reclining next to her.

“It was a very nice dream,” Alli answered.

Lara motioned for her to get up. She grabbed Alli’s hand and play-dragged her across the field. Green hills loomed in the distance, but Lara pulled her toward the forest-edge.

The forest was dark as the meadow was bright, damp and cool as the grass was dry and warm. Some yards away, they could hear the gurgle of a brook. The soil was darker, covered in wood chips. The heavy wood also breathed, enriching the air with a deep, musky scent.

Alli ran after her, the trail of Lara’s dress flying as they ran. Lara had woven more tiny white flowers into her own hair. She had long, nearly, sunburnt arms, covered with freckles. She let go of Alli’s hand and turned around, twirling her dress as she walked. “I found something,” she said.

Lara pointed at a spot near the edge of the woods, hidden in the shade. Creeping weeds and vines curled around it, but the area itself was empty and bare. No vegetation grew there, not even lichens. The ground was perfectly circumscribed by a line of mushroom caps. “A fairy ring,” Alli said.

“There’s a couple that grow around here,” Lara said, “The earth is so moist all the time. The fungi just take root.”

Alli made a wish and began to walk through the ring. She stopped in the center, staring at a skull in the ground.

“It’s a deer,” Lara explained. Near the skull, Alli could still make out some scattered ribs. “It seems to have died right here,” Alli said, peering at the bones in the gloom.

Lara walked beside the edge of the ring. One might imagine tiny fairies skipping from mushroom to mushroom. Or sitting cross-legged on them, holding a council. “The body fed this ring,” Lara said.

Alli felt a chill, and skin prickling, she looked once again to the yellow-green grass basking in the overexposed light. The wind blew the heat of the afternoon sun into the hole in the woods.

The white of the skull glinted in the dimness. Alli stepped out of the fairy circle, and followed Lara back to the vegetable farm, where her fellow graduate students were working, tilling their gardens.

belief

Songs:
– String Quartet No. 1 in D major, Op. 11: 02 Andante cantabile, Arranged for orchestra by Marriner — Tchaikovsky
– U2, “Mysterious Ways”
– Messiah, oratorio, HWV 56: “I know that my Redeemer liveth” — Handel

Related: “Nature does not know extinction” and existential flowers.