SONNETS
S T O R I E S
( tapestry by John Henry Dearly 1892 )
A Girl on a Bicycle
( Part 1)
A girl riding a bicycle, along a dirt road and smoke rising from the chimney of a cottage on the left. She stops and wonders, 'why is their gate left open?’. The gate was never left open and it was as if they were expecting her.
This is an early morning and Mary was hoping to get to the village school before her classmates to finish a biology project. Now Mary was intuitive and could sense when things were misaligned. It would come often through her sense of smell as if she could smell when something was off and now she caught the scent. She parked her bike by the gate and walked in.
The residents of this land were an older couple, retired and living in this little cottage in a forest with a meadow and a creek. They were her best friends in many ways. Unlike her parents, they would listen and wouldn’t give advice unless she asked. And they were always there, working in the gardens, cooking, reading and sometimes creating unusual pieces of art - just like she imagined a perfect life should be . And best of all, there was always an air of enchantment.
As Mary approached the cottage she noticed, at the edge of her vision, at the periphery, a fox - reddish with a dash of black, and upon being noticed, disappeared into the forest.
The cottage door was open and inside, she found signs of an earlier breakfast and dishes unwashed, a pot of soup for lunch, but no one. She looked out a window with a view to the back of the land and there again was the fox.
Once more she caught the scent, went outside and walked along the little pathway through the forest to the creek. Upon arriving at the creek, the fox sat, unafraid and looking toward her.
The red fox turned, swam the creek and waited on the other side. And in the distance, on the other side, she heard a song - its sound undulating, weaving through the trees, calling.
Mary closed her eyes and began to turn, counter clock wise and then started to spin, eventually stopping and without opening her eyes took some steps and felt the cool water on her feet. Slowly, eyes closed, she felt her way across the creek. She felt the pebbles and stones, some smooth, some rough, some secure and some slippery and she thought she felt some little fish nibbling on her toes. She stopped, not quite sure how to proceed. Nothing was making sense.
She was being guided - the scent went to taste and now she could taste it. A sense of belonging and being lost, where danger and safety merged. Her parents, her siblings, her classmates all vanished in this stream, flowing, taken away and repositioning. The cycles of nature, the seasons, the passing and birthing contained in this moment. She could taste the soup on the wood stove, the apples in the tree, the ash from the fire and the presence of the Otherworld of which she has now entered.
Just as the World was about to End / March 2050
We didn’t know it would come; actually we had given up. It felt like everything about everything was divided - politics, gender issues, religion, race, pandemics, climate change - everyone had a position and they were right. And so, we gave up as a civilization. Seems like a simple response now looking back from 2050. I remember going to bed at night feeling that brooding descending darkness. One afternoon taking a nap I had this vision of an angel ringing a massive gong announcing the end of the world. It was a slow evenly paced sound and then clouds of brown dust rose just before the earth opened.
And then it happened. I almost forgot it until now. It’s important that we remember. We need to tell it to our children - they need to hear it, not read it. This information needs to be communicated orally like the early people did, then we will remember.
It first began in my dreams. Each morning I would remember seeing a torch being carried through a dark meadow. I could never see who carried it, only the yellow flame of the torch. Since it occurred each night I started to tell people about it and some of them had recurring dreams similar to mine.
Then one day a solar flare occurred and took out the entire power grid around the world. Computers and technology were useless. Many stores couldn’t even open their doors. It was survival. I don’t remember how long this lasted but it was pretty horrible for awhile.
But the dreams continued. The torchbearer was becoming more visible. I always thought it would be some kind of hero or goddess but it turned out to be a deformed, crippled person. I was disappointed, yes, disappointed. But then one night I felt pity, no not pity but compassion. Somehow I came into the dream and helped the person with the torch. That’s when the change began. It was subtle at first. I noticed people changing, I noticed myself changing - little things like watering potted plants more regular, asking strangers how they were and really asking.
The rest is history as they say. I had always thought it would have come through elections or demonstrations. But what do I know ? I’m an old man now looking back, remembering and glad the children are singing again. I’m glad we made it through. I often wonder if we did it ourselves or if we had help from another dimension. But does it really matter - we made it through.