From the River God to the Crazy Story
Okay, here goes. Here is the beginning...I'll run through the whole thing as quickly as I can. Part 1 I returned to find my River God, after all the rain. Black pterodactyls warn me that something here has changed. The river bed is moist from the storm, but still it doesn’t flow. The wet stones slide and crunch beneath my feet. The bright blue of my tennis shoes seem out of place surrounded by the greens. I listen closely for his voice. I only hear the screaming of the crows. Something is following me. I sense a presence and I cannot tell if he means me good or ill. I march further into the wilderness. The crows become silent. The only sound is the water droplets spilling from leaf to leaf and the crunching under my feet. Behind a great Oak, I think I see my River God. A twinkle in his eye enchants me and calls me to his lair. Mother Oak stands as a warning not to stray. I follow her massive arms endlessly reaching over the river bed. I come to the place where my prince last stood, yellowing and thin. He is gone. To my left stand the Twins. They explain his passage and remind me to heed Mother’s advice. With a casual disregard, I run further up the path. Shadows close in and the path becomes dark. Where is he? Decay makes its way to my nose and I breathe in her warning. The crows scream as they fly overhead. I look back for Mother. My beacon is gone, I’ve left her kingdom. The Twins are fading and my pulse quickens. The screaming grows louder. I peel back the branches to reveal a stone staircase. I hear Mother echoing in my head, “I cannot shield you here.” The presence drawing me in, shifts in shape and moves my hair from my neck. He whispers, “Go on. Tumble, like Alice, into the rabbit hole.” So easily seduced by the River God. He takes my hand and leads me to the stairs. I cannot refuse him but my heart beats wildly. He senses my confusion and presses his lips to my ear, “Don’t worry. I won’t hurt you.” Mother screams to the Twins. In tandem, they call to me, first one, then the other, “Don’t” “Forget” “What” “Mother” “Said” The River God smiles at me. His eyes, blue like my tennis shoes, so out of place in the greens. Mother’s desperation grows and she pulls a thick leg from the earth, causing me to stumble. There, for just a moment, I see him, in his true form. A black, venomous thing. A serpent with slit eyes. I pull away and stumble further to the rock over a rock. Then I turn and run, not thinking of my beautiful angel. I find the Twins and place my pale hand on their side. My skin matches theirs and I know I am part of them, tainted by the River God. They calm me and send me on. Like a beacon, calling me to safe shores, Mother stands. Slowly returning her left to the earth, her loving arms embrace my soul. I place my hand on her side as a silent thanks. She guides me back home where I will sit and watch her world. I’ll try in vain to tell her story, but I must try. She is a lighthouse in the wilderness. I am a part of her as she is now part of me.

Part 2 Yesterday seems a hundred years ago. Mother stays with me. But then, so does the River God. I feel him in my head, scratching on my thoughts. Why did he change? Our first encounter was so beautiful. His eyes, god, even through the yellow, they were hypnotic. I wanted to stay with him. He was so frail and needed tending. The rain changed him. What’s his story, Mother, who is he? I wrap myself in the shelter of Mother’s roots and await the story. Her story. His story. History. She stands silent and proud, refusing to speak to me. So I wait. My mind wanders to the Twins. They want to play. I hear them in my head. “Come” “Play” “Climb” “Yes, climb” The idea makes them bend with delight. They sway to the music in their veins. I watch from a distance at first, not sure their flexible branches will hold my weight. Mother finally speaks, “They will not let you fall.” I nod and approach the Twins, respectful of their wishes. I slide my blue sneakers off and grasp the trunk. The Elder sighs, “Careful now, put most of your weight on me.” “All right,” I respond. I place myself in the V the two trunks create where they separate into two beings. My back leans against the Elder. The Younger laughs as my toes tickle his side. “Sorry,” I whisper. He assures me I did not hurt him. The Elder groans slightly. The Younger offers me a branch to balance on as I climb higher. I come to the highest branch. The Elder asks, “Do you trust us?” “Of course,” I respond. The Younger chuckles, “She can do it, Brother, teach her to fly.” “What do you mean ‘fly’?” I ask, becoming nervous. The Elder lifts my perch higher. “What are you doing?” I grasp the branch tightly. My feet slip away from the Younger. I feel leaves at my toes. The Younger laughs with joy. “Please tell me what’s going on! I’m slipping.” The Elder begins shaking his long arm. My fingers are slipping from the branch. The only thing below me are the leaves. The are wet from all the rain. My toes search for something to plant themselves on. “No!” I am falling…or am I? I am…flying? Strange. Atop the trees. Standing on the leaves. The Younger still giggles. I laugh at the incredible ridiculousness of what I’m doing. “You had to relearn. You had forgotten. Soon Mother will open your eyes and you will remember everything.” I laugh, “I’m floating.” Then my mind finds the River God. “Don’t seek him out until Mother shows you all you need to know,” the Younger whispers as he lowers me back to the ground. I sit at their base for a moment, unmoving. Then I slip my shoes back on and return home. “I’ll be back tomorrow.” “We know,” they say together. Their voices leave a hint of apprehension. As I walk away, their voices carry in the wind to Mother, “He is calling her. Teach her quickly before we lose her. She is the last.”

Part 3 I did not go see Mother today. I sense she wanted me to come. My heart would not let me go to her. I try to roll down the window in my car to let the breeze filter in so I could feel her. She never came. I never made it to my river. I try not to think of the River God but his voice echoes in my head, “I will find you, Love.” He follows me home. His voice is quiet. The sound caresses my ears like lips, soft against my skin. I have to stop and catch my breath. I wonder how he found me. I left him there in the river bed. But here he is, standing in front of me. He is thin, but not frail like he was before. His hair is thick and blonde. It falls in curls at his neck. The cool blue pools masquerading as his eyes capture me. “What are you doing here?” I manage to choke out. “I just wanted to see you,” he says. He sits in the swivel chair in my room. I nod and take a seat across from him on my bed. His eyes, god, they are hypnotic. He’s so beautiful, my angel. For a few moments I just sit and stare at him. His eyes never leave mine. I want to look away so I try. I shift my weight around and cross my legs. His will has me bound to him. We sit in silence for, what seems like, years. He holds me hostage with him for three days. I cannot write. I cannot speak. I can barely breathe. His presence is oppressive. Mother’s voice resonates in my head, “I told you to stay away from him. Why could you not listen? Now it may be too late.” I try and rationalize with Mother, “I didn’t go looking for him; he found me.” Mother’s response is cold. “Your thoughts brought him to you.” I lash out, “I did not ask for this.” “So why did you not fight him?” My heart stops and tears swell. She is right. Her truth cuts my soul. I go numb all over. “I didn’t know I could.” Nausea hits me like a wave. I look into the River God’s eyes. He is smiling a sick toothy grin. He bites his lip. I fight the bile back into my stomach. White, hot rage begins to inch its way up my body. It sneaks in through my toes. They involuntarily wiggle in response. I do not notice the sudden mobility until it hits my hands. My fingers curl up into my palms and my knuckles turn colors to match the rage boiling in my veins. “Bastard.” First it comes as a whisper. The River God wrinkles his eyebrows. Again, “Bastard.” The rage warms my vocal chords until I am able to scream. I lunge at him. He disappears. His voice comes at me from every direction. Phantom hands grope at me. Desperate, I fight and call to Mother, “Mama, please.” My voice, so faint I can barely hear it. He laughs. I fall to the ground with my knees to my chest and my hands over my ears. I feel him rematerialize on top of me. Saliva drips from his teeth onto the back of my neck. He pulls my left hand from my ear and whispers, “Don’t worry, Love, you won’t feel a thing.”

Part 4 I awaken screaming. A full week later and I am still having nightmares. My eyes adjust to the dark of my room. I throw off my blanket. Blood is pounding through the veins in my head. I pull myself out of bed and shuffle to the bathroom, shutting the door before I turn on the light. Once the light buzzes on, I stare into my empty eyes. They used to be bright green. The dull grey colour they are now taunts me. I look into the sink, trying not to cry. A hand reaches to my lower back to feel the River God’s brand. I turn away and raise my shirt to look at it in the mirror. I twist my body to see my reflection. The scab is slowly healing, but the scar will always be there: his tattoo. I pull my shirt over my head and turn on the water in the tub then switch on the shower. Trying, yet again, to wash off his stain. The warm water is a comfort. I welcome the safety of my little waterfall. I wash all the fear and the anger away. Watch it swirl down the drain. A compulsion sets in as the water drowns the River God. I must see Mother. I finish washing away the darkness as best I can and put on my sackcloth and blue sneakers. I drive to her, helped along by the wind. My car seems to have compassion for my frayed nerves as it all but steers itself. An hour passes and I again follow the Indian Trail to Mother. I look for her far-reaching arms from the back porch of my cabin. She has hidden herself, but I hear her soft moaning. The wind carries her song. I light a cigarette and breathe in its calm. Mother’s unease overwhelms me. I walk inside the cabin and put on a CD. I feel unready for her depth of emotion. The cigarette burns to my fingertips and I put it out on my shoe before putting the butt in an empty beer bottle. The forest is louder than usual. With my nicotine buzz, I feel ready to venture out to Mother. I step down into the natural highway and pluck a daisy reaching at my feet. I place the flower behind my ear. My soul rests, surrounded by this beauty. I see Mother. She stands proudly on the bank of the river bed. Moss covers an exposed root. Another strong trunk—her Attendant—grows quietly next to her. I sit on the moss and lean my head against the Attendant. We sit together, the three of us, for a few minutes as the breeze carries the music from the house to our ears. Finally, I rise to go. Mother does not acknowledge me. A single leaf falls from her boughs and touches my face. I know she has been weeping. I travel further up the river bed in search of the Twins. It seems they have moved. I pass them. Only looking back do I see them. I run back, they are covered with Daddy Long Legs and they stand defiantly before me. Feeling rejected, I run the other way. I come to the stone staircase. With tears in my eyes, I look back at my former friends and begin to pull back the branches that obscure the path. Mother sighs and the Attendant whispers, “Speak to Sister Willow.” A stream of black butterflies float past me, humming in unison, “Sister Willow can restore you to Mother.” “Thank you.” My feet move on their own, guiding me back to the music, past the daisies and down the river. Two trees, connected by spider webs block my path. A warning not to go further. Another impasse. The Attendant again whispers to me. “She is not here,” she explains, “She is a city dweller, like you. You know where to find her. She will meet you where the Slaves and the Indians died.”

Part 5 Life has a funny way of interrupting everything and kicking me in the ass. My search for Sister was a priority that first week. But hitting the daily grind threw everything into park. So here I am, dejected and sitting in my car. I stare out the open sunroof and question the clouds running across the sky. “Where the hell is Sister?” A small brown bird with long legs hops toward my car. He cocks his head to the side as if listening to the wind. I sigh, “Where is she, Little One?” He spreads his wings and glides to my door. Perching there, he sings, “You know the place. Why have you not gone?” Before I can think of a response, he flies off. I shake my head, “I am going insane. Talking tress, crazy demon men…” I start my car then rub my temples, “I’m a loon.” I drive home in silence, not bothering to put on a CD. Wouldn’t make a difference anyway, I am lost in my head. With no conscious thought of driving, I navigate my car home. I put the car in park and sling my purse over my shoulder. I walk up the steps to my apartment door. As I climb the staircase, I dig through my purse for my key. “Hey there.” “Shit. Jesus, Paul, you scared me,” I slap him on the shoulder. “You know, there was a time not too long ago that you would never have cursed. Now it’s every other word out of your mouth.” He wraps his arms around my waist. “You’re a bad influence, babe,” I respond flirtatiously, “There are a lot of things I’d never done before I met you.” “Like talk to trees.” “Haha.” I roll my eyes and flip him off. “You know I always want to.” “Oh hush.” He pulls back my hair and kisses my neck before we walk in. I put my keys on the table by the door. Paul asks me what I would like for dinner as he opens the refrigerator. “God, Paul, I’m sorry. I forgot to go to the grocery.” “Pizza it is then,” he lets the door shut. “We need to talk.” I collapse on the couch. My stomach starts to twist into knots. Paul picks up the phone and quickly orders the pizza. He puts the phone back on the receiver and walks into the living room. He sits next to me on the couch. I avoid eye contact, afraid of what is coming. He lifts my chin, forcing me to look at him. “You’ve been changing so much lately. Let me in here,” he taps my forehead. Tears start pooling in my eyes. He guides my head to his chest and holds me until I’ve no tears left. He stays quiet until I’m ready to talk. “I am losing my mind, Paul. I don’t know what is real and what isn’t anymore. I feel like I’ve one foot in reality and the other in an alternate universe where trees and animals can talk. You might as well lock me up because I’m off my rocker. And I’ve been trying to find a willow tree in the city that is planted in some old burial ground where some slaves and Native Americans were killed. And I was violated by a demon or a ghost or something.” Paul just sits there, staring at me. “Say something, damn it.” “Once, when I did some ecstasy, I thought a shrub was singing a Nirvana song to me.” “Oh gee, that makes me feel better.” He brushes my hair that is stuck to my face from the tears. “I don’t know what to say, other than, we’ll figure this out. There used to be a huge plantation in town. It’s a park now. I’ll take you there tomorrow if you like. Just don’t shut me out of this. And look at it this way, if you are crazy, you can get some good drugs for it.” “I love you, you know that, right?” “How much?” he smiles and pushes me onto my back. The doorbell rings and he groans. I laugh and quickly kiss him, “I got it, just hold that thought.”

Part 6 I laugh at myself for not realizing this park exists. Paul and I pull into a parking space. He turns off the car and looks at me. “So, how does this work? Do you have to meditate or something and call down the spirits?” I search his face for a hint of sarcasm. Oddly, he seems genuine. Maybe I’m not crazy after all. “Nothing like that just…yeah.” I trail off because I’ve no idea how to explain that trees are capable of communication. “Let’s just go,” I finally continue. Paul locks the car from his remote key after we are halfway to the main building. A bronze bust of a man stares blankly at us. I hold the statue’s gaze as we walk up the final stairs. Paul pulls the door open and holds it as I walk through. “Are you here for the tour?” A woman, far too chipper for her own good, asks as we enter. Paul responds, taking my hand, “No, I just wanted to show the prettiest flowers in the state to the prettiest girl in the state. May we just walk around?” “Well aren’t you just the swee-*test*-('") thing? Of course you may, take as long as you want. And if you need anything, just come a-knockin’,” she finishes with a laugh. Paul and I smile at the woman as we exit the building and enter the grounds. Stepping through the doors is like stepping backward in time. A gravel walkway splits into a T a few feet in front of us. To the left is a small building. Paul initially says, “That might be where they housed the slaves. But it seems awfully close to the main house.” Paul draws my attention to the right. The main house is small by current standards, but still seems impressive. My eyes turn back to the small house next to us. Paul continues scanning the landscape. “No. Ellen, that’s it.” Paul turns my face to a building in the middle of an open field. I shake my head, “No, Paul, that’s a stable. And a crappy one at that.” “Exactly.” Paul offers no further explanation. My mind cannot accept that idea. “No, you’re wrong. There’s no way. That’s inhumane.” Paul just looks at me in that, “God, you’re so naïve” way he often does. He brushes the hair from my face and draws me close as I try and wrap my brain around such blatant injustice. Deep in my core I know it’s true no matter how hard I try and deny it. I wrap my arms around Paul’s waist and kiss his thick dark neck, “I’m so sorry, honey.” He smiles distantly. He is no longer with me. He is swimming through the collective memories of his ancestors. I am suddenly very ashamed of my whiteness. We stand together for what seems like an entire lifetime. Perhaps that is literal as well as figurative. Paul seems to have aged. His posture has straightened considerably. His gaze is piercing, like that of one who has awakened to a truth. He quietly says in my ear, “If we dwell in a land of death, we too die and so do the spirits of those who follow us. My ancestors are the two most despised and oppressed peoples in this country. And yours, perhaps, the most privileged. But here we are. Equals in each other’s eyes. This is how it should be. No denial of the past, but victory over it. That sounds stupid to say. And trite and disrespectful of my people in a way, but isn’t that exactly what the Africans and the Native Americans wanted? A shred of decency and equality?” Paul sighs, “I’m sorry.” “Please. Don’t be. I can’t imagine what all you are feeling right now. Do whatever you need to do. If you need me to leave you alone, I will.” Paul nods his head and asks me to wait for a moment. I sit on a bench under a grape vine covered lattice. I watch Paul walk to the building and disappear behind a wall. “You cannot deny it now, Mother. There is hope. His ancestors are calling him,” the Elder Twin states. “Yes, yes, the Guardian is waking, Mother. Rejoice!” the Younger chimes. The Attendant shakes her limber shoulders to arouse Mother. Mother sighs deeply and admits, “Perhaps you are right. But it is not right for the Guardian and the Priestess to be so…‘involved.’ It breaks tradition.” “Has a Priestess ever been involved with her Guardian?” the Twins ask in unison. “No,” Mother adds coldly, “And it should not be so.” The Attendant shakes her long arms as anger builds in her. Mother notices the Attendant’s growing frustration. “You know nothing of the past, how many Priestess’ have you seen?” “None, Mother, but tell me, how many of them have succeeded in their task?” “That is not the point, tradition is the point.” “You hold too tightly to the old ideals, Mother. Things change. The Guardian must love the Priestess in order for him to desire to protect her.” “You are young and should know when to be silent. You have not taken my place yet. I am old but still capable of striking you down. Do not forget that.” As I sit beneath the lattice, I look at my surroundings. Frozen in time, this land aches with all the pain its inhabitants suffered. There is a small stream that runs along the end of the property. There is a building, hiding amongst the trees. It sits halfway into the water. To the left, obscured by several larger trees, several long drooping branches protrude. After looking for so long, my spirit dares not hope I’ve found her. I walk toward the building which I’ve no determined is or was a mill. The willow seems to withdraw herself as I approach. A voice I do not recognize whispers over my shoulder, “Not yet.” This voice is unlike Mother’s or the Twins’. I turn around half expecting to see someone behind me but no one is there. The mill throbs with pain. Darkness hovers there. It is so familiar. My feet move on their own. I look at the steps then the open interior. I hear my name faintly over my shoulder. The mill is all I can see. I place my foot on the first step. My back starts to burn where the River God branded me. I am barely aware of the pain. I take another step. My body feels like it’s floating. There is a flash of light then darkness. I awake screaming. Paul jumps from his chair and rushes to my side. Breathing shallowly, I grope at the air. I feel Paul’s arm encompass me. I latch my arms around him and fade back into unconsciousness.

So good, so good!!! I'm so excited to get a little more of the story. Keep it up!

I Like... I'm still reading, I got through the first two... very good! ... impressed. Keep writing.

:oops: thanks guys. i hope to turn it into a novel. we'll see how it turns out. i've no idea what's happening next though.

i think my story has officially abandoned me. :? *sigh* i give up. stinkin willow tree is pissing me off. :P

I'm sorry! That sucks when your story runs away from you. I'm sure she'll come back. Otherwise, we'll go hunt for her across those astral plains. Maybe the next part is an autumn story too. I'm having a weird thing were I'm associating my writing into seasons. Hope that makes sense.

yes, it makes sense. i think i need to do some research before the story will continue. :? i think i know what's gonna happen next but i feel too white? to write it. if that makes sense at all. i don't know. i guess we'll just see. i miss my story! :cry:

AWESOME. Keep writing