She was sitting amongst the long summer grass cross legged
and looking at the ground. The day had thrown itself over the edge of the
horizon, the sun the forefront of the crusade, rearing its fiery head in anger
at the quivering and retreating darkness. She regarded this as if it were
merely nothing – this major breakthrough of nature, this occurrence of magnitudinous
strength. Her eyes followed the path of the grass tails as they darted to and
fro in the breeze, never content it seemed with one position or the other.
Millions upon millions of them swayed in the field – if you were 100 metres in
any direction, maybe even 50, you would not have been able to see her at all.
But there she sat, like a Pixie of nature, but one that had in her countenance
an unbearable sadness that led her to be blind to all beauty.
How long had she been there? It seemed like all of eternity.
How long would she stay? That was yet to be decided, and only the decider knew
that, and herself, of course. She could move, if she wanted, but yet she seemed
almost attached to the ground on which she resided, her palms pressed into the
grassy, dusty ground. Where had she come from? She was borne out of nature –
everyone was, and nature was where she would die. It didn’t matter from which
area she came, where she had been, or what she had previously done – she was
here, at this very moment, as it was exactly meant to be.
Hours later the clouds sauntered in – they did not roll, it
was slower than this, and much less joyful. They were almost as miserable and
as dark as herself. They covered the glorious sun momentarily, and this at last
dragged her pretty eyes from the ground, causing her to glance up, interested
in a change. Finally, some life in this life – even the very grass seemed to
dart faster in answer to this decided moment…but then her eyes dropped again,
and all was as it was.
Time passed. Time always passes. There is never a time when
time does not pass. A rumble sounded in the summery field – thunder? No, this
rumble was more subdued…it was her stomach. She was hungry. She was only human,
and a need for things other than one’s own thoughts would put an end to any
fanciful notion of stepping outside the realms of humanity. But she did not
respond to her bodies protest at her stance…she merely stared on, as if
watching an army of ants fight the battle of the Roses. Except of course there
were no ants. Just her, the grass, and the sun.
Was she really, truly, to stay here to her death? The sun
had reached the height of day and it towered proudly above her, probably
hindering not helping her defiant situation. She shuffled around and shifted
herself forward, so she was half lying on her stomach, her arms supporting her,
her back to the sun. Perhaps in hundreds of years time they would find her
skeleton in this position, and with a shiver they would feel the sudden
overwhelming presence of her emotion and the strain she seemed to be under.
As the sun sulkily started to sink, melting into the
darkening horizon like it was almost unwilling to leave her, she sprang up. Her
eyes were wide, her hands muddy, her body stiff and her joints robotic. But she
shook not from cold, but from what had happened – what had almost begun to
happen. Her eyes went wider, her mouth stretched - as if it had not thought of
doing this before- and she smiled. The smile pained her muscles, but it was the
most beautiful thing the grass had ever seen, and for their dancing tails she
would smile a million times. She stretched her arms above her head, and such
sudden movement after so long on the ground caused the world to almost falter.
It was unexpected, spontaneous and entirely joyous to watch.
She took to running. She ran and ran, silently thanking the world
as it beamed back at her motionful body, and the being that had inhibited that
field for as long as this story became a spec on the horizon, where it
disappeared, her journey yet to go on.
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