This is Huntsville's Art Magazine/Newspaper! I made the cover this month!! Thank you so much Jill!! You can see it at Valleyplanet.com.
Some of you may or may not know that my husband, Nature Boy is an aspiring author. We have self-published a couple of his books through Lulu.com. (Chuck Buckner). This is his latest short story--it hit the #1 spot on his writing site that he hangs out on.
Flight of the Dying Monkey
A Short Story
By Chuck Buckner
—Lies are given substance, not by the liar, but by listeners who believe them. The liar is aware of the untruth, but a listener who believes them and accepts them at face value gives them life.
—Flight, in search of the truth, is a short journey. Question what you don’t know to be fact and disbelieve those who are distorters, false praetors and skilled demons. Listen for the monkey, it screams in silence and dies at the feet of inequities.
An old woman was talking to herself and anyone else within hearing distance. They said she was crazy. Some said she was lonely. Others thought she was dying. She wasn’t any of these. She was just an old woman who knew more than either you or me. She has seen the monkey, heard his scream, watched him die and did nothing. One day she may tell you the story, but I doubt it. Even if she did, you wouldn’t be listening.
***
I saw her one time walking along a stream in Fateful woods. She was singing. Her voice reflected the mood of the forest. Not dark, but not quite light enough to see far ahead.
I was a young lad at the time and lost. I had wondered for an hour or so trying to find the path. When I saw the stream I intended to follow it. I’d either go deeper into the woods or come out at the village. I knew it lay in a low valley and the stream meandered down to the mill at its southern end. When I saw the old woman, I followed her. I knew she stayed in the village most of the time and was likely headed back there. Besides, I liked her singing.
—“Oh, forest spirits and trees of green,
lead me to the primate queen.
She is born and I must be,
nearer to her and see,
The only one who will set us free.
Oh, forest spirits and trees of green.”
She stopped singing.
“Who follows along the road to nowhere?” she asked. “It’s strange to be here.”
I waited beside a tall tree. I knew that she couldn’t see me. The darkness was closing its tight fist on the forest.
“Who is there? Only enemies of the light dwell in the darkness. Come near.”
I was afraid to move. I could just make her out, standing in the path. I remained silent.
An owl hoot from a high limb almost directly above shattered the silence.
A hand grabbed my arm and tightened like a bony clamp.
“Why are you here, lad and why are you hiding? Are you lost?”
I couldn’t answer for a minute.
“You have no reason to fear me, boy. I can lead you home or I can leave you here. There are reasons to fear the latter. Creatures dwell in these woods that I fear. You should fear them doubly. Now tell me why you are here, alone.”
“I . . . I was in the woods searching for something. I stayed too late and become lost. I thought the stream would lead me home, but then I heard you singing.”
“This stream will lead you away into a life of disorder. I know what lies at its end, death. Do you want to die?” Her voice started out high pitched and grew higher and louder. She was almost screaming.
The woods were silent again and the darkness was suffocating. Then the sound of wings beating and slapping against tree branches high above us was heard.
“Answer me.”
“N. . .No ma’am.”
“The monkey flies from our presence. Shiver in fear if you ever hear that sound drawing near instead of moving away. Now tell me. What is it you seek in these woods?”
“I. . .I.”
“Tell me and we both can search. Or, I might already know its location.”
“I was searching for a stone, the truth stone.”
“You mean this one? She held her hand out palm up. A small stone that was beginning to glow lie there.
After only a few seconds, I turned my eyes away. The light had grown so intense that it hurt to gaze on it. The entire area of the forest was illuminated in bright colors that seemed to change and blend with each other. The living darkness was driven back momentarily. After a moment the colors began to fade and blackness crept in again.
“You can turn around. I’ve put it away.”
I turned and for a brief moment in the dying light I saw her face. It was the face of a young woman. Her eyes sparkled like bits of multi-colored glass, lying underneath a bright sun. Her skin looked soft and there were no wrinkles. As the light faded, I still saw those eyes for a few more seconds then they too were gone.
“Take this stone,” she said, “but take comfort in knowing it’s not what you seek.”
I took it. It felt warm. I carried it in my hand for a while then placed it in my pocket.
***
I have carried the stone and the memory of that face since. They have traveled with me on long journeys in searches for truth, meandering streams that lead to nowhere and for tall trees where dying monkeys slap their wings against limbs high overhead. The stone she showed me wasn’t the truth stone. She told me so. She told me I could search these woods forever and not find it, but she didn’t deny its existence.
***
I could not see her face. The darkness had reclaimed it. Her voice sounded old and brittle.
“Come with me and I’ll lead you home.”
I followed her and she talked. She rambled on and on, speaking in riddles. Much of it she sang in a low voice. I understood some of what she said, but not much. Some of it I remembered for years and it has never made any sense to me.
—“Everyone seeks the truth, but it’s not buried.
It is there for all to see.
Close your eyes and walk unhurried.
You will see it very near.
Open your eyes and blindness will hide it.
And your heart will fill—with fear.
I became frightened because I didn’t know where we were going. It was not hard to follow the path we were on, but I didn’t know if we were going toward the village or away.
“When is a stone not a stone? When it’s dead. But the truth doesn’t die. It’s only hidden. Close your eyes and listen. You’ll see it.”
I didn’t know if she was talking to me or just mumbling nonsense. That was so many years ago. It seems like yesterday.
We had walked a good distance. I was growing tired. I saw lights and knew the village was there ahead of us. She changed the direction we were walking slightly to the left and away from the stream. There was a narrow path that I hadn’t known about. As we neared the village, she stopped.
“You must fly on your own now, lad. The winds are favorable for me to go elsewhere.”
“Thank you, for bringing me back here,” I replied.
I heard a noise behind me. I glanced and then looked back and the woman was gone. It was very dark. The light from the village seemed to intensify the darkness here, as if it was pulling all the light to it and leaving the surrounding area darker.
I took the stone she had given me and held it out in my palm. It felt warm but glowed only slightly.
***
Many years later I stood, as a grown man, near the same spot. My arm and hand extended with palm up. The stone glowed brilliantly. I had stood here a few other times since that day long ago, but this was the first in several years. I had returned with thoughts of staying.
I willed the light to dim. It still glowed softly in my palm. I chanted softly.
—“Oh, forest spirits and trees of green,
lead me to the primate queen.
She is born and I must be,
nearer to her and see,
The only one who will set us free.
Oh, forest spirits and trees of green.”
Something rustled in the brush nearby. A young girl emerged from the thick foliage and stepped toward me.
“Why I am summoned here?” she asked.
I was startled, but captivated by her eyes. They carried me away through time and space to places that don’t exist except in the minds of curious lads. These were the same eyes that I had lived to view again. Now, they were there before me.
I heard wings hitting tree branches. They sounded as loud as a waterfall. I didn’t understand. I recalled words from a long time ago —Shiver in fear if you ever hear that sound drawing near instead of moving away.
I wasn’t shivering. I wasn’t even afraid. I looked at the girl. Her eyes were young and the thought occurred to me that she was reborn. These eyes were not the same as I had gazed on so long ago. Yet, they were the same.
“Look to the sky,” she said. It was a command.
I raised my head and looked toward the towering trees above us. They were filled with a million pairs of diamond like stars. The eyes of the monkeys filled the forest top. Still, I wasn’t afraid. I could hear the sound of other wings beating in the distance, drawing nearer.
“You have returned home?”
“I have.”
“And your search is over?”
“I believe my search has come full circle, back to its beginning.”
“I have gained rule in your absence. My regal ancestors have departed for the starlight and I must join them. I am the last.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You hold in your hand the answers you seek, the answers that you have sought for so long. The stone you looked for in these woods so long ago is found.”
“The truth stone.”
“This stone doesn’t exist now nor has it ever existed. Was it what you searched for?”
“I searched for truth, but I wanted to find the stone and truth would be confirmed.”
“Truth has been found.”
There was an instant noise that sounded as if a million set of wings were slapping against tree limbs. I looked up and a million stars were falling from the trees. I was overwhelmed, buried in a mass of coldness. The world had gone dark and silent and it stayed this way for minutes. Then I heard the beating of a solitary set of wings flying down out of the night straight at me. Again, I looked up and I saw the monkey as it descended toward me. I was alone in the woods as I had been when I saw the old woman.
Her haunting words frightened me again as I watched the Monkey falling. I raised my hand skyward and held my palm open. The stone glowed as the monkey neared. The light illuminated the creature as he swooped and snatched the stone from my palm. It glowed brilliantly and as it sped away become a shooting star blazing through the tree tops headed back to the heavens.
I heard a voice as soft as a baby’s first breath, or, as loud.
—Lies are given substance, not by the liar, but by listeners who believe them. The liar is aware of the untruth, but a listener who believes them and accepts them at face value gives them life.
—Flight, in search of the truth, is a short journey. Question what you don’t know to be fact and disbelieve those who are distorters, false praetors and skilled demons. Listen for the monkey, it screams in silence and dies at the feet of inequities.
I knew that a magical stone that indicated when a truth or a lie was told did not exist. I had probably known for a very long time. I know that the search for truth can lead you on a long journey, but most times it will end where you started. Lies, like dying monkeys, are born out of belief when disbelief is the proper emotion.
I have heard a single whisper multiply into a sound like unending thunder. When the monkey dies the sound is louder than silence. There is truth and there is no echo but a sound heard once and gone.
I walked from the woods and into the village. I live there still.
END
Copyright: Chuck Buckner 2009
Also!! Nature Boy is now finished with his last two years of college, and will be graduating soon! He finished the last two years with ALL A's!!!!!! Way to go Nature Boy!!!!
I love you!
Live Artfully!
~~Suzan~~
