The Art of the End, Chapter 2: Dream

         The developing awareness of her surroundings crept back into her body. Heavy eyes slowly parted to the tree-brushed moon above. Its light shone back into her face, illuminating a tan shoulder as she brought herself up onto her elbow. The brightness forced her to look downward to see the light cascading over her several layers of clothing. Shimmer spots appeared, and she blinked a few times to focus her sight. Her head pounded and she rubbed her forhead in an attempt to relieve the pressure. It was several seconds before she could recall why she was outside. Her mind rewound to the previous hours. There a sneaking suspecion she was missing some events. She wondered, had something else happened?

         It was still early in the night, and she realized it had only been a small span of time since she’d fallen asleep. The moon was now directly above her keeping a vigilant watch on the couples in the sandy valley. Searching the sky, her eyes bounced around the shaggy tree limbs and the mist floating through the air. In the distance the chanting continued, but she ignored it. A pessimistic feeling came upon her. The ritual drink must have worn off.

         Shifting her gaze from the magnificent moon, her eyes landed on the less awe-inspiring man asleep by her side. It all finally came back to her. Watching him take deep breaths, she felt disgusted. He was no man. Half her age as he was, yet to be her commander. “What does he know of the world?” she thought while chewing on her upper lip, “One hunting trip and suddenly he is our tribe’s shining star?”

         The men who had traveled with him then were afterwards convinced he channeled powers of the animal ancestors, but this she did not accept. No one among them dared question it, and she dared not speak it to anyone outside of herself.

         After a careful lifting of the man’s outstretched arm, she slipped her body out from underneath it, and delicately placed the arm to rest on the sand. She would not sleep without having another drink to mute the anxiety that night’s coupling had brought her. Raising her hands up behind her back she dusted off the scratchy grains of sand and shook her head to jolt herself fully awake in case she conversed with anyone. She untied her shawl from her waist and replaced it around her shoulders, draping loosely over her midriff vest. She then continued towards the chanting.

         Several hours had passed since the ritual she’s taken part of, and now the timing of the season was right for the young ones who had that year come of age. Theirs was much different. They would not be sent to the valley, but for the girls to simply be moved into the home of whomever they were paired.

         A boy much too young to participate rushed over to her as she approached and placed a cup of drink into her hand. She nodded in acceptance, but did not sit with the elders. Instead she retreated to the edge of the woodlands and perched down. She looked for a moment to the elders, whose voices and clapping was almost overwhelming so close. Particularly when in a ritual, they would drown out one's emotions while dancing, reverting the participants to an animal like sensibility. Sitting in the woods the commotion made the pain in her head return.

         Of the young ones in the rhythmic dance, her gaze fixated on the girl with sharp, birdlike features. It was Trishna, a girl she knew well, as she was her mother’s sister. Their relationship was a strange, and somewhat uncomfortable, one. In most families, the mother’s siblings were the ones who showered the children in gifts. Trishna’s mother had long since gone to rebirth, leaving her to be the one who had to be strict on the girl.

         She watched the five children dancing, only two men between them, shaking her head upon noticing Trishna struggling to win one of them. The look on the girl's face was not as soft as that of the other girls in the ritual circle; it was intense, almost overbearing. Not being chosen would mean having to spend another full cycle of the seasons as a child. She was not quite sure someone as headstrong as Trishna could handle the shame.

         The elders announced the new couplings. Trishna sauntered off in a huff before a word could be spoken to her.

         Her adoptive mother hung her head in dissapointment. They were both more outspoken than any of the women, yet Trishna gave an impression as being downright spiteful. It almost seemed as if the girl was begging to someday be outcaste or chosen as a sacrifice, especially if she remained alone in her house. Although, with the tongue she had on her, the tribe would likely be too afraid to send her as a gift.

         Trishna ignored the giggling of the other girls and the joyful celebration of the elders. While hastily striding towards the woodland path towards the settlement, someone sitting aside from its edge caught her sight. Her facial features hardened as she made out the image of her mother's sister. “Sonal!” she spat, exhaling through her long nose in a bull like manor. As she approached the moonlight hit her third eye, reflecting the anger and directing it towards Sonal. “How dare you amuse yourself,” the girl almost screamed, though careful to keep her tone low enough to only be heard by the two.

          “I am far from amused,” Sonal angrily replied, “After that display, I am only worried about you.”

          “Don’t worry yourself, old woman.” The girl began to walk past her adoptive mother, in a dignified attempt with head held high.

         Sonal stood making an interception in the girl’s path. “I am not an old woman,” she stated defensively, “You wouldn’t dare say that to Mohana!”

         The girl motioned her arm forcefully at the moon, which was now lowering towards the ground and halfway shrouded in mist that hung directly above the ground. “My mother is there. You are not her, Sonal.”

          “Where is she then? If she were still in the spirit, you would have seen her at your ceremony!”

          “I have never seen her!” Trishna yelled, “That makes no difference. I know she’s around me, without knowing her voice.”

          “Your mother's spirit must have been in a rush to return to life, given that you have never seen her. Neither have I, yet I see everybody else!”

         Trishna’s expression leveled, her eyes evident of the sting she felt. “She has yet to leave me,” she said softly. With that she began to stroll off, now feeling completely broken.

         Sonal felt angry, but aimed more so at her own words. Tilting her head towards the young girl she shouted out, “I am not trying to upset you. You only have to understand that Mohana is gone. For years I have been a mother to you!” She looked towards the moon, now wondering why nobody in the tribe had seen her sister.

          “Sonal,” her husband called out from behind her. She turned to face him, his hand reaching for her. It was not that he was a cruel man; he simply struck her to be a nuisance. A desire to instruct him to let her be crossed her mind, but she was keenly aware where talking back would get her. Sonal took his hand, and allowed herself to led back to the sands.

         Sonal rested with the shawl blanketing both her shoulders and those of her husband. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, opening her lips as she exhaled. The air had cooled down significantly and the mist was low enough to pleasantly kiss her face. She ignored the itch of the grains of sand, thinking it had been a long time since she had slept in the valley. Sonal thought what angered her most about her new husband had, in actuality, nothing to do with him. Instead she hovered over the realization that with the inevitable sunrise she would be moving into his home. It angered her that she would be leaving the home she’d spent nearly fifteen cycles in, along with her first husband. He had been a friend to her, and nothing more outside of the public’s watchful eyes. She kept his secret.

         Time passed as quickly as a stream of rushing water, and although her eyes were closed she observed the changing of light. Once she heard the commotion of the rising couples, she knew the day had begun.


          “Will you be gone long?” Sonal asked, not bothering to look her husband’s way. Her hands kept busy repairing a tear in one of his garments, eyes lazily trained on each strand of fabric. “Vimal?” she called with an edge of harshness. Still there was no response. She spun her head around towards the entrance of the home where he stood moments before. Turning back to finish the tunic and to move on to gathering everything he would need for hunting, Sonal scrunched her nose as her face settled into a scowl. He was such a man, she thought furiously, who had an ego so immense he would come and go without bothering to say a simple word to her, his wife! Inaudibly she giggled to herself as she considered botching his supplies in some way, despite knowing quite well she could not.

          “Sonal,” her husband dared to whisper so tenderly as he returned through the cloth door. “It’s unfortunate that I am leaving so early. I will miss you,” he cooed while wrapping his arms around her from behind. “We are low on food, though, the entire tribe is. We will be successful, of that I'm sure.” He tenderly kissed the back of her hair, taking his pack from here as she turned to face him.

          “Will you be gone long?” she repeated in a hush tone.

          “As long as we were on the last trip. Three nights,” he replied, backing away from his wife and proceeded out the door. Sonal solemnly watched the cloth flap down and black out the rays of the sun. She brought herself down onto the bed of blankets and closed her eyes for a nap. Vimal’s home was offensively disorganized and the fact it had been occupied an entire season without a woman was clearly evident. She would have a long day ahead of her.


         As the moon rose up that night Sonal was again resting on the blankets in her home, alone as she was accustomed to being. Shuffling her body for the last time, she felt content enough to drift towards sleep. Through her nose she began to take a deep breath; suddenly the sound of the door startled her, and instinctively Sonal brought the top of her body up and eyes flew open. She parted her mouth in surprise, “Brother? What is wrong?”

         The man slinked closer to his sister, kneeling by her side on the blankets. Not a word was uttered, and his features gave no answers.

          “Baldev? Why won’t you speak to me!” she whimpered. The sensation of sweat covering her face and bitterly resonating on her cold lips made her feel uneasy. “Tell me what is bothering you!”

         Her brother remained silent and motionless, only lifting his dark eyes to meet hers. Sonal searched his eyes, noticing the vast emptiness overcoming them. He then leaned ever closer to her and lifted his hand. Sonal had no time to think through what was happening before the hand was clasped over her still open lips.

          “Bal,” she began to squeal, her voice lost to the pressure above it while his grip tightened. Hands soared upwards to grab the man who was undoubtedly stronger than she. Fingernails cut into the skin of his arms. She could feel his warm blood seep under her nails and trickle down her wrists. A single drop fell onto her face directly over the symbol of her third eye. Even as she began to loose consciousness, it occurred to her the drop was by pure accident on her brother’s part. Taking it as a divine symbol, Sonal dropped her arms.


          Vimal entered his wife’s view as he approached the settlement. Normally, the tribe would wait until the hunters entered the circle with their animal corpses, but Sonal couldn’t stand it. The moment she spotted him within the hunting group, she took off running towards them.

          “Sonal?” he gleamed upon reaching her. “Why are you not waiting for me?”

         She smiled taking a glance at the ground momentarily, replying, “This is your first hunting trip since the ceremony. I grew to miss you!”

         The momentum in her voice pleased Vimal. He had felt the tension between them before. The cooks took the corpses from the men and proceeded to prepare most of the meat for storage. He had been correct in his hunch they would be as successful, which once again reinforced the others’ belief that he was born of animal lineage. They did not resist his capture on either trip. His soul was the song which brought the animals peacefully.

         As the night wore on, Sonal clenched to her returned husband. Without him by her side, she shook so uncontrollably it was difficult to stand, much less anything more complicated. There may be lingering resentment towards the man, though it came to her realization that he was, if nothing else within her heart, her protector. With such a respected man close by, her brother would not be a fool to cause harm upon her, lest he would loose his life.

          “Trishna!” she called out to her adoptive daughter. As the girl came around one of the homes at a pace all her own, Sonal continued, “Would you mind helping me cook our meal tonight?”

          “If I do not help you,” the girl pondered out loud, “I will be expected to take part in the ceremony. Along side the children!” Finally she nodded and knelt down to help. The girl glanced at Sonal, who was all of a sudden caught in an unbreakable stare. She followed her eyes, ending upon her mother’s brother, Baldev. “What is the matter?” Trishna prodded, shifting her gaze between the two.

          “I believe your uncle is ill,” she tonelessly replied, going back to preparing the meal.

         Adjusting the top layer of her skirt to be suspended between her thighs, Trishna took the beans into her lap. She sorted through them in silence, rubbing the outsides with a damp cloth to lossen the dirt. After several minutes the girl looked to Sonal. "Mother?" she asked respectfully for her attention.

         The sound of that word coming from the girl's lips warmed Sonal's spirit, and she was able to break a smile. Sonal figured that Trishna must have felt badly for the way she had spoken to her after the nigth of the ceremonies. "Yes?"

         "We are different. Why?"

         "What do you mean different? Nobody is the same!"

         Trishna looked down in deep thought as she decided how to state her feelings. "No, I mean I do not feel like either of us belong in the tribe. I cannot comfortably speak to anyone, and I've been thinking we'd be better off as nomads. That's all."

         Sonal took a break from tenderizing the meat to lean closer to the girl. With a glow in her eyes she whispered, "Perhaps our spirits are more sophisticated. The others, they are new to being human. We are not as closely related to the animals!"

         Looking to the cleaned beans in her lap Trishna laughed softly. She handed them over to Sonal, who poured them into the pot of water over the small fire. "We would never survive on our own," the girl concluded, briefly raising her eyebrow.


         Sonal kept close records. Something was not right with her body. It was directly after their second daytime meal had ended, and therefore it was the time when the sun’s ever expanding heat blaired from directly above. In all of her memory, she could not recall a summer season so harsh. Sonal feverishly slinked away from the settlement, almost mindlessly through the woods, and towards the sanctity of the bay’s southbound coast.

         In the current state, she was not inclined to be a part of the initial meeting planned with the Traders from the west who’d been traveling almost half a season’s stretch to arrive. Before she could return to the tribe she must first gather herself, for she had grown anxious as the days went by. Because they were tied to the moon, she was sure her records were accurate. Although it had been some time since her attack, which had been kept a secret, she was now being forced to relive that day within her mind, body, and soul. Her body ached in a way she had never experienced.

         As the water’s banks came into sight, Sonal burst out into a run. Her untamed hair flowed around her body like a mask, after her carved bone clip had fallen out. Normally it was a precious possession to her, though this time it did not faze her. She could not stop. At the edge of the sparkling waters she fell to her cloth-wrapped knees, tears suddenly streaming down her face.

         Momentarily she glanced at the sun-consumed sky, her wet eyes full of confusion and questions, and then her face fell violently into the moist ground. Water lapped into the hair thrown over her lowered head. She wailed with the pain she felt in her heart. As she sobbed, her mind reverted back to the words she had uttered to her brother after his attack, “You are against our mother; she weeps for us.” They repeated until her voice bounced off the water, until she realized she was now screaming them out loud. Sonal finally lifted her head and ceased her tears, eyes resting on the soft beat of the shifting water. She then thought encouragingly, “One day between…? The timing is right for my coupling ceremony in the sands, also. Is it possible?” The simple thought that her initial assumption was incorrect calmed her greatly.

         Sonal breathed in and out of her nose with eyes now closed. Beginning to rise, she was shaken by a far off scream. Her head snapped back towards the settlement. Traders? As she jogged to rejoin her tribe, there was another scream followed by a commotion. “Trishna!” her heart skipped, “What trouble has she found this time?”

          “I am not a good to be sold!” the girl screamed, struggling to overcome one of the traders.

         Sonal approached at a brisk pace, yelling out to the group as she came, “What is happening with my daughter?”

         The man holding her released her. “Daughter?” the boorish trader sneered, “I was told she was an orphan. Orphans are acceptable trade goods.” With his final remark he glanced at the young girl, an animal look gleaming from his face.

          “She is my sister’s daughter. She has since gone to the spirits. I am her mother now,” she hissed to the man.

         She looked to her nearby husband who shrugged. “She is not my daughter,” he stated forcefully. We are a pair now, Sonal, she is not yours either.”

         Sonal saw a chance to announce what she had concluded that day. “I need her to be my servant. We are having a child, Vimal.”

         One of the female elders broke the silence with a laugh. “Sit yourself down, foolish girl, lest we trade you in her place.”

          “You cannot trade a tribesman’s wife,” she replied boldly, laughing back at the old woman’s absurdity.

          “SIT!” The elder lashed out, motioning to Vimal who then stood. He came to his wife and forcefully pushed her down. Her bottom hit the ground, rising up dust from the sand. Propped up on her palms, she raised her eyes to everyone staring coldly at her. The look in the elder's eyes felt as if it would cut into her flesh.

          “What will you give up for the girl?” the same elder who yelled continued. Defeated, Trishna slumped down next to the trader and hung her head. Sonal did the same.


         The midwife and her helpers drew Sonal into the birthing home, assisting her into position. It was late into the night and completely dark, save for the flickering light from the fire outside. Despite her pain, she listened closely to the high priestess leading the ceremony in the circle. In her own thoughts, she pleaded with the gods to allow her to receive a baby free of deformities. She had never seen one, but she had heard stories of infants born to women of rape among family. Most were not normal—and most women were not allowed to live.

         A helper stuffed a cloth tightly into her mouth, while the midwife closed Sonal’s fists around a wooden bar suspending securely by the posts build into the community home. Sonal’s worry completely over-shadowed any possible amount of pain her body would endure. The tears that followed were not due to the pain.

         When the infant fell into the arms of the midwife, it cried. Everyone inside with them grew quiet, except for the baby. After a moment two of the helpers whispered to each other. Sonal was perfectly aware of the meaning behind the silence, closing her eyes tightly and holding back the urge to scream.

         The midwife studied the infant, despite a deformity she caught right away. She stammered, “The child is not well.”

          “It's crying!” Sonal said softly, yet with force, not being able to bring her self to look downward. “Ill children, they do not have a voice so strong.”

         Ignoring her, the midwife continued to the helpers, “There are no choices here, we must send him back to the spirits.”

          “He!” she thought in an ecstatic state. She broke her grip on the bar and leapt down to her son. The breath left her body upon seeing the grotesc flap of skin extending from his back, almost like an animal tail. It appeared to have bone within it. In shock, she scanned the infant with her eyes, again landing on his ears. There was only one, aside from a bump on the side where it should have been. “But he cries and moves strongly!” she muttered to her self.

         The midwife and her helpers continued to fully disconnect the infant, all stunned. Sonal felt sick to her stomach, thinking of her brother. The midwife eyed her and asked, “Sonal? Do you want to leave?”

          “Why?” she asked in horror, unable to believe her child would be killed.

          “Many women who witness their children being sent back to the spirits have night terrors. Many who are especially desperate choose to also send themselves,” the midwife explained almost casually.

         Sonal’s mind went blank with eyes trained on her son. She reached out, attempting to bring him up into her arms. The midwife resisted; Sonal pulled harder until the other woman’s grip slipped off of him. “Sonal!” the midwife sounded shocked. The helpers moved in. “You should not hold him. You will get attached! I warn you, it will make it hard on you, poor girl.”

         At that moment Vimal entered the birthing home. “I heard the cry,” he stated almost emotionlessly. Addressing the midwife he asked as he approached the infant, “Why haven’t you brought him out to the tribe yet?” As soon as enough light was cast onto the infant, he jumped back in horror. “What is wrong with him?” he asked, sounding stiff and distant.

          “Your son is destined to return to the spirits,” the midwife replied in a sad, yet determined, voice.

         After a period of silence, Vimal continued with a sneer on his face, “That is not my son.”

          “That?” Sonal spat in disgust, “He is a human being the same as you and I.”

         Vimal leaned in to his wife, his physical deposition full of anger and his own disgust. “Don’t you dare claim that is mine. He is an abomination. What have you done?”

          “It is not uncommon for babies to be born with a deformity!” she screeched in reply. “I do not want him killed!”

         He grabbed hold of his wife, with infant remaining firmly in her arms, and violently pulled her out of the birthing home. She struggled against him, but was easily overpowered. The ceremony was dwindling in the circle, and as Vimal and Sonal came upon them, the tribesmen stood in surprise. The women and children all jumped back when Sonal was thrown into the circle. For a moment she was still, then rose into a sitting position.

          “This woman,” Vimal announced to the group, “has commited unspeakable acts. I do not know what she has brought upon herself.” He paused to motion his hand towards the screaming infant, “This child is not mine.”

         There was a collective silence within the tribe. The men appeared vengeful; both the women and children were purely terrified and in wonder. It was not as expected.

         One of the male elders stepped forward. “We must send them both to the spirits before the sun rises,” he concluded. The old man turned to Vimal and stated, “You claim your wife has been unfaithful and this is not your child. They will both be sent. The method used will be stoning.” His voice trailed off as the group collectively expressed their disbelief in the turn of events that had quickly went from celebration to murder.

          “Stoning?” Sonal yelled as she peeked up at the two, “I have done nothing!”

          “Be quiet,” her husband spat. Sonal clutched onto her son and lowered her head in thought.

          “Leave her!” a known voice came from the edge of the circle, it’s body hidden in the shadows. Before any reply could be given, Trishna appeared from the darkness. She rushed quickly to her adoptive mother’s side, alone in the circle. She threw her arms around Sonal’s neck. “They both shall come with me, and trust me when I say we will never return.”

         The elder scowled, saying in reply, “Sonal is family to us. We cannot let her go.”

          “But you will kill her?” Trishna roared, “And I was family to this tribe also, yet you traded me to another, whoes men would have me as a gift to their wives?”

          “We have no use for you, girl,” Vimal jumped into the circle, gripping Trishna’s forearm tightly. She squealed out in pain previously unimaginable as the man’s nails broke deeply into her flesh. Yanking her up using one arm, he brutishly tossed her to the elders. They took her into their arms.

          “You cannot hold me,” she screamed in a madness, “You are too old; I do not respect those who so closely resemble the walking dead!” As feeble as they were, the fire that lived within their eyes gave them the strength to hold her perfectly still.

          “Trishna!” Sonal cried to her, “Leave. Now! You don’t belong here, child!”

          “Mohana has spoken to me; my mother has finally come to me!” she yelled back in glee, “Her spirit helped me escape from the west tribe. She led me back to help you. I knew before I arrived the trouble you were in!”

         No one spoke a word for quite some time, all in awe of her story. If the spirit of Mohana had brought the girl back them, could they be making a mistake? Sonal could feel the doubt in the air and was hopeful her son would now survive.

         Unrelenting, Vimal pushed forward. Along with a handful of other men, they began to fiercely gather the stones. The elder concluded for the group that this was a lie and spoke so. “No!” Trishna cried out. The girl began to cry.

         Within a fraction of a moment the first stone carried itself through the air, connecting with Sonal’s shoulder with such force it knocked her onto her backside. The baked sand inside the circle ate into the skin of her lower back, unforgiving. Her son’s crying resumed much more harsh than ever, and the fear rushed into her mind that if he was hit by a stone, he would not die right away. Instinctively she placed her hand gently over his mouth. The exact time the infant’s crying ceased, the second rock smacked into the side of her forehead. Her chest immediately became flat, no longer inflating itself with breath.

          “That’s enough!” Trishna struggled once again with the elders. The sound of her arm snapping did not seem to come as a shock to the girl. With a rush of power, she broke free. She proceeded to leap into the slight pit her adoptive mother lay in, pulling the child out from her grasp. As she tucked him under her arms, she was startled from the sensation on her shoulder. The girl realized it was a pulse; apparently Sonal had not succeeded in her attempt to end his impending suffering. Vimal in his rage through a stone at Trishna also. By the time it reached her, she had barely jumped out of the path.

          “Run, girl,” an unearthly, but recognizable, voice told her in an unusually calm and certain tone.

          “Sonal?” she cried out to the sky, erupting into motion. As the girl ran with the infant in arms, Vimal called to the tribe that it was for his honor to go after her alone.

         By this time the women and children were already huddled aside from the other groups. While many of them believed Trishna’s claim her mother’s spirit had come to her was nothing more than a futile attempt to free her aunt, many of them also took it as truth. With heads down, the ones who believed silently prayed for the pair’s safety.


         Hours later Vimal returned to his tribe. The truth was that Trishna had escaped him, but he was content she would never be able to survive, for she surely would not return to the traders either. It was up to the brutish animals and the revenging gods, he decided. Every face was trained on his and searching for answers. He announced to avoid hurting his pride that he had succeeded in drowning them in the bay. Those who had prayed looked to the ground.

         Sonal laughed at him while watching this scam. “You are no man,” her spirit whispered into his ear. In life she dared not speak this, now she was free. “Although, do not feel badly,” she continued, “They escaped you because I hid them in the mist.” Because time is no object to a spirit, at the same moment Sonal’s essence was also blanketing the two runaways as they slept, inside of a cave no animals would dare enter as long as she remained. She mused at this, thinking of her husband.

         Upon hearing her voice, Vimal shivered in fear. He felt her presence, now terrified. He continued to smile broadly to mask his worry.

Modern

         The morning sun awoke Ellie inside the cabin home. She opened her eyes to dust floating about in the sunrays, feeling a pushing sensation on her body before she had the strength to sit. For a moment she hazily looked about, not reasonably sure of whom she was. She arose, stumbling past the pool table and then the canvases littering the room, to the rear of the cabin. A makeshift sink that was not much more than a bowl, jugs of water, and a towel were attached to the wall. It had been there when she stumbled onto the place, but she added a smooth piece of glass above as a mirror. She wetted her face to remove the dust she felt canvassed her. “Er, I really need to do something about that couch,” she muttered to herself while stretching her arm over her shoulder. Her head tilted back a little with a yawn. As she dropped her head and lazily reached for her toothbrush, something on her face caught her eye. Staring intensely at herself with her eyes squinted at her hairline Ellie slowly brushed back strands of her red curls. A rather large bruise lay beneath. In her other hand was the brush. It dropped to the floor.

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