By Wendy J. Dunn
The bright sun reached its noonday peak. The morning dew long gone from the grass crushed beneath hoofs and feet, as the spirited stallion pranced, sporadically shaking its head, following rather than being led by the reins his young rider held. Only a short time before, the man had fallen off his horse, not because he lacked riding ability but simply out of pure exhaustion. A good thing, too, they were friends — the dark-haired rider and his coal-black horse. It would have been such an easy thing for the horse to break away, leaving the man alone to confront the unknown.
After hours of navigating the leafy woods, where light wrapped around towering, overhanging trees a green veil. Imprisoned by the forest on either side, the man followed the path to a clearing.
Light blinded him. Overwhelmed by the power of the sun and its onslaught of brilliance, the man forcibly raised his free hand to rub hard, first one eye and then the other. His throbbing head hurt more than it had while making his way through the forest. His stomach heaved, forcing him to kneel and rest his hands on the grass-covered ground before it rose up at him. He wondered how he could go on.
Blinking, he rubbed his eyes to clear them. The man slowly lifted his head, looking left and right, trying to make sense of this place. Tall trees encircled the clearing. Sunlight filtered through their branches and turned the world green. Unrecognised noises frightened him. One loud noise frightened him more than any other. A rush that pounded like thunder. He looked in its direction. A heavy waterfall cascaded into a deep, wide pool.
The pool overflowed from one end, forming a narrow stream that slithered its way through more woodland edging the other side of the clearing. Rising from the ground, he felt relieved. Since the day before yesterday, humming had afflicted his hearing. The noise from the waterfall had almost deafened him and made him think his senses had become deranged.
Having identified one sound, he now recognised other noises: the buzzing of nearby bees, the chirping of nesting birds, the heavy, snorting breath of his patient steed. But what of the long-haired girl approaching him? She who moved towards him with an unhurried dancer’s grace; the fall of her feet made no sound.
Beautiful wasn’t a strong enough word to describe her. Adorned with a garland of wildflowers, her loose hair, golden red, shone so bright it appeared alight when set against the backdrop of the blue, cloudless skies and the greenery of the not-too-distant trees. Her face was oval and pale; the young woman’s skin was so pure that threads of veins showed clearly at her temples and neck; with her countenance uplifted by eyes that were glistening orbs of the deepest shade of blue. A gentle smile curved her mouth. Dimples formed in each of her flushing cheeks; her rosy mouth revealed perfect teeth. Wearing a green, velvet gown, the woman’s laced bodice clung to her upper body before falling, in flowing drapery, from her slender hips to hint at naked feet.
There was a line to her very form, beginning from her well-shaped head, held Queen-like high on a slender neck, down to the pink, translucent nails on her toes, that spoke simply of grace and sang out loud to the glory of her young womanhood.
‘I remember…’ he thought. But the moment of remembering passed, as did the memory of the dream that had disappeared after his sudden awakening. It left the young man floundering as he twisted and turned in his struggles to break his way through to true awareness.
The woman walked closer to him as he feebly let the steed’s reins fall to the ground. The horse wasted no time, taking its freed reins as permission to graze on the lush grass. Pulling grass from the soft ground, the stallion busily chewed, moving further and further away from his human companion. His rider, suddenly aware of this, glanced to ascertain that his horse stayed safe. When he returned his gaze to the approaching girl, he found her standing in front of him with a long-fingered hand outstretched.
‘Come,’ she said. ‘You are thirsty. Come and drink.’
She led him through the foot-sucking sedge towards the harder ground at the side of the pond. She gently assisted him to sit upright on the rock bordering its closest side. Then she stood behind him, with her hands lightly resting on his shoulders, making no attempt to give him some of the nearby water to moisten his dry mouth.
The man felt another moment of utter confusion, and tried to glance around the girl, back towards the way he had come — the trees so far away, nothing more than a blur as he looked. Suddenly, the girl squeezed his shoulders, giving him a slight, though gentle, push forward. Concerned for his balance, the man spun around to the pool of water. The man had forgotten the importance of his backward glance. Suddenly, he found his upper body leaning even further towards the water.
‘The man glanced at the pool. It was so beautifully clear. He could not only see the girl but also himself. It was as if he had held a vast mirror before them. There was something he just could not grasp. It was as if the body of water were an enchanted mirror, drawing him closer and closer, offering him something that he had to understand. Weary and sore, his body sagged, but then the pain eased until it was no more. His ears stopped the dreadful humming. Likewise, his desire for water was quenched; he no longer longed to drink.
He gazed into the shining, clear water, staring at his reflection and that of the red-haired girl. It was as though the rippling water, sparkling with brilliant sunlight, turned their reflections into something other than two human forms until the water simply shone with stars.
*
The young woman sat by the hospital bed, all her attention focused closely on the shallow rise and fall of her husband’s chest. For three long, terrible days she had watched her husband struggle to fight death; each day, he became weaker. Three long days — enough time for this small room to become its own enclave, hidden away from the rest of the world. Three long days… enough time for the woman to lift her gaze to death.
They had said it wouldn’t be much longer — even less time now. Only moments ago, the medical staff had switched the life-support machine off. She gently touched his hand and then took it up quickly, beginning to rub across the inside of his palm. He felt so cold. If it weren’t for the rise and fall of his chest mixed with the occasional jerk of his fingers, she would have thought he had finally gone.
It was strange how she had now come to some sort of heart-aching acceptance.
When the woman first arrived here, after being told of her husband’s car accident, she railed at him, crying out, ‘Don’t you dare let go! Fight, my love, please, please fight. You must fight for me.’ Yes — just for her — the man must fight even death.
She refused to listen to the medical staff when they told her it would be best for nature to take its final, relentless course. More than anything else, she had wanted to keep her face turned away from those horrible, horrible facts. Facts telling of a reality that she never thought to contemplate- a reality that gave her so little hope, offering no way for him to surmount his injuries or return to her.
Even on the second day, wiping away the blood seeping from his ears, she laid her cheek against his and whispered, ‘Please don’t leave me, darling. I don’t want to be alone. My love. My love. How can I live my life without you?’
But on this last day, all hope died. His injuries were such that it would be cruel for him to continue on. She could no longer abide his body being tortured and know that his spirit had been left flightless. Unable to speak, she simply nodded when they asked her again to turn off the machine, giving his body the illusion of life.
She rested her head on his chest, her ponytail snaking in a red spiral, as she stayed there. No movement, dry-eyed, listening to the weak, irregular drumming of his heart, thinking of their time together, of every joy and heartbreak. And the woman told him that it was all right for him to go. Death simply cannot be the end.
