My name matters not. Names come and go. ‘Tis the soul, the spirit, that matters.
I first see them in the distance, approaching from the far-off river, I assume, where I myself seem to be headed. Seven of them walking, one of them talking. I don’t know what he is saying. He seems to speak fast as he gestures toward me or beyond me.
They walk right by me. The talking, gesturing one appears to be the leader, the elder of this group of men. I watch them pass me by and walk on, then the elder one stops and turns back to me. He gestures for me to come with them. I point to where I think the river is, but he shakes his head and gestures more strongly that I should follow them. He grins and his teeth are as white as cuttle fish bone. After some pondering, I decide to follow.
We walk and walk until they finally stop. I catch up to them standing around a raggedly clothed human skeleton, flesh and bones strewn by scavenging animals. I stand back a bit. One of the young men picks up a hat from the ground. It’s the skeleton’s hat. He puts it on and some chatter begins. The elder man takes the hat and shows it to me. I stare at this hat; it’s the same as my hat. I reach to my head and my hat isn’t on it. Is this hat my hat? They walk on, the elder man now carrying my hat.
The elder man speaks. Four of the men flank out, two go left, two go right. The rest of us keep walking and eventually we come to another skeleton. It’s a horse, or it was a horse. The saddle has my initials on it. This is, or was, my horse. She was a good horse. It occurs to me that I haven’t thought about or remembered my name since I don’t know when.
I walk beside the elder. I tell him my name, I tell him everything. My horse was spooked by a critter in the underbrush. From the corner of my eye, I saw the tiger snake strike my horse’s leg. I fell off backwards. I hurt my head and my back and I was bleeding. The elder doesn’t look to me or react to anything I say. I wonder how long it has been since that happened and how long I have been walking in circles around these plains, in search of the river, and hatless, at that.
Later, the four younger men return. They’ve been hunting and have two snakes, four good sized lizards and bird’s eggs; big eggs. After a while we come to the entry of a rocky canyon. We stop.
The elder; he talks into the canyon. His words seem powerful, meaningful, respectful. His voice resounds. His echoes vibrate through the canyon and then return to us in diminishing volumes until all is once again silent. Then he has one of the young hunters repeat what he has said into the canyon. After this we enter. A small stream flows from somewhere higher up and the men drink. I don’t; I am neither thirsty, tired nor hungry.
We make our way up stream until we come to a large, sandy-floored cavern and enter. Some of the men leave to collect firewood. On their return they proceed to build a fire to cook the things they have caught. Night falls and they eat. After that they build the fire up and a ceremony of some sort begins. I simply watch on. The elder man and the tribesmen chant and step and dance, as they all do this. I feel a mesmerism coming over me and I join their circle.
The elder is opposite me, I can see him through the flames, he has my hat in his hands and offers it out to me. His gaze does not leave mine, he doesn’t even blink. We circle and I come closer to the fire, a fire I can’t feel. I reach through the flames to take my hat and he steps back a little. As I step forward, I find myself within the fire, right amongst the flames. When finally he passes my hat to me, I put two hands out to receive it, and when he lets it go, it drops right through my hands and onto the fire below. I bend down to clutch it, and fail. It shrivels and begins to burn. I raise my body back up to standing and as I do, I leave the earth.
Like the fire’s wisps of smoke, I rise.
Like the fire’s sparking embers, I rise.
I float up and out of the cavern and as I rise higher I now see an ocean of stars above me lighting up the limitless heavens. I look down to a moonlit glimmering earth below me.
I hear the elder man chanting into the canyon, his voice powerful in its authority, meaningful in its purpose, respectful in its tone as I slowly diminish and disperse. Like the smoke and the embers, I drift away into the night’s echoes.
