Till Human Voices Wake Us
Hold on to the thread
The currents will shift
Glide me towards...
You know something's left
And we're all allowed
To dream of the next oh, oh the next,
Time we touch...
She remembered the dust that drifted up from the garden path in the late summer. The Temple fountains gurgling, in the evening, the air close and warm out on the roof garden. Clouds as pink as a girl’s blushing cheeks, the first glitter of a star somewhere in the distant sky. Then the stars became two angry glittering eyes instead. Long fingers clutching a black-gripped hilt. Screaming.
//
It had been some fifteen years since Laodice had come to the small town, just a few dozen blocks and a few hundred beings short of the prestigious title of 'city'. She had been a girl then and most people had been willing to lend her a hand. For years she had done odd housekeeping jobs and run errands for elderly ones who would no longer venture outside the safety of their homes. Laodice had done so siletly.
So it was a bit of a shock for the townspeople when, at fifteen, Laodice had run screaming through the streets that they all had to leave right away. The girl had been inconsolable and in the end the local doctor had needed to sedate her. Some twelve hours later a massive explosion at the nearby minds had sent sharp rock fragments and heavy stone chunks rocketing into the main square. Six had died, not including the miners, and countless others who had been nearby were wounded.
That was when they'd started noticing things about the 'mute'. How she always talked to herself under her breath. How she seemed always to be moving just a tiny bit ahead of everything else. How her eyes seemed to see past you and into you and on you, all at the same time. Because they couldn't explain it, they called it crazy. And just like that Laodice found herself being politely shuffled to a small hovel at the edge of the residential area.
They didn't abandon her; that would have weighed too heavily on conciences. Everyone took turns bringing the girl clothes and food, and when she got old enough to be considered responsible they asked of her simple favours; minding children, weeding gardens, cleaning the fountain in the rebuilt town sqaure. No one remembered just when the fortunes started to be told, but gradually it became custom to go and visit Laodice whenever an important decision loomed. Sometimes she had nothing to say. Other times it was merely, "Good." or "Uh-uh.". And still other times, her accuracy was downright scary. Norri Judu would never forget Laodice's sad eyes and soft voice saying, "She feels him, crying and great pain. She saw him drying up, like leaves falling from a tree, downdown. She's sorry." The next day her dear Bobee had died, broken his neck after he fell replacing a window.
It didn't seem odd to them that they knew nothing about her. She was Laodice, the fortune teller. That was enough.
"It hurts in her heart. She wants to forget."
Iggy Ros'sa glanced upward and furrowed his young face into a frown. Twelve years old and scrawny as a beanpole, Iggy was seated on a broad slab of wood that served as a table. Beside him sat a plate with a half-eaten piece of cake, and a crude wooden cup filled with dirty water; not surprisingly the water had been left alone. "What do you want to forget?" The boy asked thickly, swallowing a mouthful of cake.
"The monster time. When the winds changed and blew them all away."
"Huh?" Iggy's voice tightened at the possibility of fright. Though he had long since stopped being a little kid, there were still things that bothered him. Like scary beasts. "Whadda ya mean, monster? Where? Here?"
"No. In the metal land. She remembers it smelled like tin and oil."
The boy humphed and wriggled off the table, stuffing the remains of the cake in his mouth. He carried his plate to a washbasin the corner, like a good houseguest, and wiped his hands on his thin pants. Without qualms Iggy studied the woman who sat perched stiffly on a stool in the corner. She was staring blankly out the open door, sunlight illuminating her pleasantly round face. Suddenly she turned to look at him. Iggy shivered; whenever Laodice looked at you, you felt turned inside out.
"You're weird." Iggy said to relieve his own discomfort. "Mom says if you tell her fortune later she'll give you supper. I gotta go get m'chores done or else my Pop'll tan me good."
Laodice kept her brilliant blue gaze on the boy. He often visited her, doing odd chores around the tiny adobe that was home. She liked him. "You didn't finish your water."
Iggy rolled his eyes and shook his head at the solemn face. "Nobody drinks it. It's contaminated."
"It sparkles and giggles. She drinks it all the time." Laodice responded, blowing a thread of unwashed blonde hair out of her face. She didn't often wash; nobody cared how you smelled when you could see the future.
"Yeah well, that's why she is plumb loco. Bye."
"Bye." Laodice watched him as he descended the hill, his red curls bouncing. After he had gone she slid from her stool and shuffled to the table, picking up Iggy's full cup and draining it in one gulp. Finished, Laodice dropped the cup and ran a sleeve across her mouth. "Oh, listen, she hears them." The woman walked outside, the soles of her little feet tickled at the feel of grass beneath them.
Studiously the woman glanced upwards at the empty sky. Laodice was stock still, her dress slipping at the shoulders, standing atop the hill like some carytid. Her eyes never left the empty sky. "Fly away friends, flyflyfly. She says if you come the wind will blow again. She doesn't want you to come, she wants to see you, ohohoh."
There was nothing in the cloudless sky. "She can't stop you."
A single tear threatened to fall down her cheek.
Reply With Quote
Bookmarks