Short Fiction - Dialogue With Snakes pg 6[1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][10][11] In fact, thought Kit, continuing, determined, each foot coming down heavily, I have been needing some change in my life for a long time now. Maybe that's why I wander so much. Nothing seems real, because I've done it all before and I'm bored. One foot, and the other. Al comes to see me, and the other, then he goes back to Khala, wanting the best of all worlds. One foot, and the other. And I'm left floating, scared to make any kind of decision that will alter my life in a significant way. One foot - and all I am is scared. She was running, without deciding to do it, sprinting between the sentry posts, between the lady-mother trees with apron strings dripping to the ground. Somewhere along the way her coat became a hindrance and she tossed it aside. Let the housekeepers deal with it! The cobbles were less even than before, rough edges reaching for her toes, trying to take her footing. Don't go farther, they were telling her. Stop - the Forest is not for you. Don't intrude. Go back - Out of breath, she stopped, hands on her knees, breathing deeply. Shit, I can't run like I used to, she thought, and laughed, and tumbled over on her side onto the cobbles and lay with her hand in her hair. More ends were escaping, but let them! No beauty contests in the Forest. No primping on site. A giggle fit doubled her over, and when she was finished, she lay another minute, feeling the sweat between the fabric of her shirt and her skin, pulling scraggly little weeds from between the cracks in the cobble stones. It looked like they only took care of the first bit of the path and the rest was allowed to go to hell. Bad Housekeeping - she could publish a magazine when she got through. Only clean what the company will see. The rest is between you and your conscience. Finally, back in control - or at least breathing normally again, she hauled herself to her feet and found leaves sticking to her clothes. She brushed herself off. It gets more real as you go in, she thought. The beginning is just for show. What happens as you get deeper in? Ha, she thought. Curiosity and frustration win the day. Is that all it takes? No trouble so far. Yep. Old Kit may not be a family girl, may not be a rocket-career girl, may not be lucky with men - but she's going through these damn woods. Carefully, she bent and removed her socks and shoes, and set them neatly to the side of the path. They would be one less hinderance to leave behind. The dried leaves were soft beneath her feet, the twigs little bits of reality to press between her toes. The way ahead was in the same dimming twilight - was there any distinction between day and night here? Crazy, a techie without a watch, what had she been thinking? She'd been so eager to cast away the responsibilities of her job, to let go of all her constraints, and taking her watch off the moment the last show before down-time was over had been the easiest way to feel she was breaking with her job, going on holiday for real. And that, she saw now, was where it had all begun. Who would have thought it? When she started to walk again this time, it was different, harder. It was more than the growing number of weeds pushing their way between the flagstones, more than the increasing disorder of her surroundings. She was forced to weave along the path like a drunk to avoid sections of forest that seemed to have migrated into her way, bare toes curling and gripping. There was scrub now to both sides of the path, dense between the trees. Was it darker? It should be; there was hardly any space left for all the trees - and if she weren't mistaken, the path was narrower too. The cobbles were in pieces frequently and buckled where the weeds had come through, although the elements seemed unable to take their toll under the canopy. No wind, no rain - Oddly though, she had the definite impression that there was a pattern to the ruptured flagstones as there had been in the orderly rank and file early on. If only she could see more of the path she was sure she could understand what the pattern was, what it represented. She continued, always making forward progress, but much slower than before. The surface beneath her feet was bumpy now, the shape of the stones irregular in a hill and valley pattern. What was she doing? Heading into what she had labelled "nature" in her head, a place she couldn't belong, not in this serene world of trees and moss - and naked feet making soft thumps on the stones. Well - she didn't belong out of it either, and given a choice, she'd take the solitude of the forest over humanity any day. What remained for her out there? A relationship, undefined, with a man who might or might not care for her - colleagues who she didn't respect, didn't talk to - a career that was ultimately not going to satisfy her. It would help if she really knew what she wanted. There were too many beginnings in her life that lacked endings; too many she had no interest in following up; too many things in her present that depended on others who were just as indecisive as she was. I embrace the unknown, she said, and walked, her arms outstretched to welcome the woods. Patterns. Stones. The tombs that had lined the path were gone completely, Kit saw with satisfaction, the end of the cheap gothic horror section of the evening. The real stuff was still to come - but now, she was seeing things. back to jenstuff
|
