With this post, we start a new Song, “Darkness Rising.” It’s complete with nasty characters, a faithful dog, and a new teacher. This is segment 1 of 5 – a rather long Song, but hopefully, worth the space. At the beginning our main character (MC) runs into the first person that has appeared since Hart took off. Is the MC, at this point, in a good space to make decisions? Judge for yourself.
This segment brings up considerations of dangers feared and real that come with new territory. Without much experience, the MC has few skills to distinguish help from hurt when it comes to others on this journey. The Song’s title, “Darkness Rising,” foreshadows difficulties to come. But just what is this “darkness”? In whose heart does it reside? More than one heart? As the Song progresses in its 5 segments, you will have plenty of opportunity to answer these questions, take away the changes in the MC
Please dive into the first segment of “Darkness Rising.” And let me know what you think.
“Do you make a habit of talking to yourself?”
a deep voice questions from close behind me.
I nearly fall off the pier in panic
as I skitter around to see who’s there
I crane my neck as I turn toward a man
conjured from the void looking straight at me
Barrel chest, muscled arms, black-bearded face
hands twitching as if flicking off a flea
Whoever this is, I can see a cost
accruing to me if I engage him
but I am drawn into the black eyes’ force
peering from beneath bushy brows like mouths
teeth stained yellow from disease or smoking
I quickly stand up and straighten my clothes
measure my height beneath his bulbous nose
that crinkles as if smelling something rank
but does not shy away from me one step
Those eyes. . . if I look into them, I’m jinxed
but I do look up into them and feel
deeply read down to my very marrow
Yet, a welcome seeps through as well – a trap?
I know I must engage and answer that
“I travel alone, so I get used to
talking to myself. I mean, who knows why?
“I see now,” says the man with raised eyebrows
and I believe he does but can’t say how
“You travel alone, eh? He queries next
“Yes, my voyage takes me here, there, and back
“And alone you say,” he repeats and coughs
“Yes. Yes, alone though I would rather not
“Well, we can remedy that old black knot.”
Asudden, I feel the trap’s steel jaws spring
I step back and nearly fall off the pier
He strides toward me and grabs my wheeling arm
Part of me wants to fall into the sea
rather than let this predator touch me
but instinct wins and I grab for his arm
I know instantly that I’ve come to harm
and the next path’s turning lies before me
“Whoa-ho, little friend. Almost lost you there.”
“Uh, thanks. These are the only clothes I have.”
“Oh? Why is that? he asks me, peering down
over the edge of the high dock to see
what else may have dropped besides nearly me
“Come. Where’s your gear? he asks looking around
“If it’s not here, surely it must be found.”
“Nope,” I say and start walking toward the land
“All I have’s what you see,” I say shrugging
my shoulders, raising up my empty hands
“No job? No work? Nothing at all? he asks
“That’s right. I’m as free as they come.” I smile
“No problem. You can stay with us awhile.”
At that, I feel the trap bite down harder
The hair on the back of my neck rises
My skin grows cold and my stomach churns gray
I had better add to my story now
so I don’t appear conjured from nowhere
“I had a small boat, and I tied her up
and went to town to get some provisions
Someone made off with her while I was gone”
“That was pretty careless of you, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, I’m young and haven’t learned not to trust”
“That’s a skill well-learned early, don’t you think?”
It seems odd that I’ve lied and can’t be trusted!
I suspect he knows I’m false anyway
but doesn’t mind for reasons of his own
“Yes,” I say. “Quite stupid of me truly,
but here I am at the mercy of things”
“So, I offer a place to rest your bones.”
So, I take stock of things and say, “Yes. Thanks.”
With those words, together we walk away
This bearded man prattles about himself,
the town, and the tall, harbored ships moored there
I follow along, a pace behind him
half listening, half dreaming, alone, adrift
Why should he take such an interest in me?
Why am I following like a dog on a leash?
Soon, he stops and he scans me up and down
I feel like he’s stripping off my thin clothes
“Are you hungry? Should we get something to eat?”
“Sure. Okay.” I answer with wariness
feeling like a surely caught, willing fish
in a deep-sea net, shortly to vanish
We pass shops and pubs, and I wonder why
Then we enter streets of taller houses
each door painted ashen – around them flies
We open one door, gray as all the rest
and mount the stairs, passing women, children,
the occasional man, drunk and listing
youngsters playing, a few practice smoking
ageless hooded eyes with fleeting glances
We climb creaking stairs to the topmost floor
We walk into a small, high-ceilinged room
At one window, a silver-haired woman
A boy with a blue bowl sits on her right
snapping green beans’ ends into the basin
Neither greets us or stops to ask my name
I keep silent, back to the door, watching
and waiting for whatever will come next
From around a corner a spotted dog
scampers toward me panting hard in greeting
licks my fingers, looks up with shining eyes
then sneezes loudly and paws his wet nose
The man says to me, “That would be O’Gill.
He appears to think you will be friendly
but he’s always looking for a handout”
I kneel down to rub O’Gill’s ears and snout
He snorts and wags his fluffy tail for me
This is the first time since Hart left that I
feel my heart lift up and the darkness flee
The woman continues with her sewing
and the silent boy with his bean snapping
He is younger than I am, but not much
“You can sleep there, says the man, pointing toward
a rumpled mattress in a small corner
The bearded man rustles through rough blankets
Neither the woman nor the boy seems fazed
nor questions why I might be joining them
Suddenly, I want to sleep forever
I shuffle to the corner and mumble
something as I fall beyond exhausted
on the moldy mattress on the bare floor
I do not rise when I smell food cooking
nor when I hear the three of them go out
O’Gill has snuggled up with me, his chin
resting, silky breath on my outstretched arm
paws crossed and twitching in a dog-time dream
At night, I dream of a spiraling snake
swirling in the marshes of a green lake
Yellow eyes clamped on me like wolf on prey
and long fangs dripping poison pooled in gray
I wake with a start – black scales on my chest
as if it’s me disturbing my own rest
Closing my eyes, I slip down the snake’s throat
deep through its lungs to the red-Hart boat
that nods fore and aft on a swelling sea
A figure steers her but it is not me
O’Gill peeks out from over the gunwale
He wakes up snorfling and licking my face
This dog will not let me have any rest
Somehow, I don’t mind and ruffle his coat
warm and white, but dirty under the spots
I push myself up and shuffle around
two rooms, stained walls, one window, and a stove
Before, I hadn’t noticed piles of things
an odd assortment, stacked in rumpled rings
very like a dragon’s hoard without gold,
but a few rings and gems that could be sold
- silk, statues, tapestries and silver rings
Suddenly, it comes to me that this odd
assortment cannot be honestly got
nor come by in fair trade or in barter
Thieves! Thieves live here! It must be so, I say
under breath and now O’Gill shrinks away
his soft growling has purpose and intent
I can’t think long on this revelation
but rather kneel beside O’Gill, ruffling
his ears and shoulders, when his tone alters
to a gentle whine and a muted sigh
as he rolls over, front paws kneading air
I scratch his belly and start to forget
my discovery, then pull up sharply
seeing my dilemma – the reason why
I’ve been taken in – an unkind motive
reminiscent of the river woman
In truth, a smell abounds that’s much like hers
and it’s not O’Gill’s permeating here
but rather an odd conglomeration
of things long in the sea, washed up no doubt
clothing worn but not cleaned, pieces of wood,
fish not kept well, and the musk of women
What to do now? Run? Hide? Plan an assault?
But where to go and how to find safety?
How conceal myself? What weapon to use?
Every thought a dead end, trap, or nonsense
Fear and sweat rise together, stewing hot,
putrid in all my crannies and my clefts
O’Gill snorts fiercely making his statement
about the blatant damp of my terror
As I’m on the edge of moving somewhere
just to move, the door swings out and open
The three stride in noisily carrying
bulging bags, clothing draped around their necks
More ill-gotten goods, no doubt, I assess
“Ho-ha!” roars the man. “A thief among us!”
But his rumbling laugh tells me he’s jesting
“No! He’s one of us – a very fellow!”
“How can you know that?” I say offended
“Oh, he’s one of us all right,” says the crone
“I knew it from the start,” chimes in the boy
who is near my age but seems somehow old
After all, what do I know, new to all?
I may be all wrong about this booty
It may be some kind of work they all do
“Come, come now,” says the man placing his hands
on my shoulders, tilts my head up, looks straight
into my eyes, confident, yet searching
“Tell us your name at least. My name is Skitch.
Mim’s this old woman’s name– she’s my mother.”
He pats her arm quite affectionately
“And this little wretch is Nivel, at least
we think so for it’s what he has told us
He came to us much as you did, thrown up
by the big river with lack of parents
He says they drowned while he floated away
on a coffin lid – they could not reach it
to save themselves; that’s what he has told us.”
Strangely, Nivel smiles at this as if he
has heard some pleasantry or ripe gossip
I look at him, and he looks towards a wall
A silence, and I see what’s expected
Background:
If you’ve ever been in a strange city, somewhat out of luck, you may be able to identify with our main character. Someone offers help. Despite suspicions, you accept. What are your expectations? What is the helpful person’s motive?
I have had my share of new city experiences. When I worked for the consulting firm, Price Waterhouse, I flew to as many as 3 cities per week. It could be disorienting. The one thing they had in common was the danger of crossing the wrong person(s)’ path. As a woman alone, I had to be on guard 24/7. (I had not yet earned my three black belts.) Sometimes, the clients themselves brought unexpected dangers. I have also traveled extensively in many countries. Talk about new territory. In many places, one can offend (or worse) without even attempting to, through words and behaviors. Even English-speaking countries such as Canada and Australia have their own customs and etiquette. So, have pity on the MC, young and ignorant in the world’s ways. Consider the following explorations, if you like.
Exploration 1: Despite misgivings, the main character decides to go with the large man who approaches at the beginning of this Song. What is the MC’s motivation for going with him?
Exploration 2: The main character speaks/thinks of lies and trust. What is your current opinion of the trustworthiness and honesty of the MC?
Exploration 3: What are your impressions of O’Gill? What part may he play going forward?
Remember, the entire version of The One published to date can be found on a separate website here.
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