(Okay this one I’m going to give some background to try to let it make more sense – I am trying to create a collage that can be three separate narratives or three intertwined narratives, not sure until I start to write what it will be. The first section is a personal memory, the second is a current news story and the third is a description of the natural world. They will be interspersed and it may be confusing. I am assuming my goal is to tie them together. So here goes…….caveat, horror will be part of this narrative.)
Walking into a bathroom stall, my mind was startled at first, and then struggling to grasp what I was seeing. My mind showing me images of what I should be looking at, taking the real image, comparing it to the known images and discarding them in a vain attempt to find a match, find a label. There was no comparison in my inventory. There were bits that were oddly recognizable but the whole did not belong together, not in this way. One was not supposed to be with the other. Bits and pieces had convenient labels, but again, my mind screamed at me that they should NOT be here, they should not exist as they are presenting to my eyes.
There is a three year old boy missing in British Columbia. The tatters of information coming in from various sources only provide snippets of the whole story and I must sew together an overview, create the picture myself, in my own mind. There are searchers combing the woods and a construction site near his home. He has a history of sleep walking. His parents tucked him in under ‘several blankets’ in his ‘scooby doo boxer shorts’. Odd details. Amber Alert has been issued. “He was dressed only in Scooby Doo boxer shorts and may be carrying at least three blankets, Police say.” Says the reporter. Odd details. Bits and pieces, no one is saying what really is going on.
Green? Everything is green and vibrant. The leaves rustle with the soft blowing breeze. Spots of yellow are forming, an indication that soon the days will be cooler, shorter and the air itself will change. Birds are happily calling and playing their games of tag through the branches as they prepare for their long flight south. The sun is glinting through the small spaces in the trees. Underfoot are the remnants of years of existence. Soft, damp, earthy smelling. Brown, black, red. Snap. A branch breaks under weight. A spider scurries seemingly frightened across the broken branch. The air is heavy here, there is an essence of decay.
I see colors, dark brown, stark white, orange-ish caramel and one that stands out above them all, red. My mind is reeling. What I see makes no sense. Dark. Purple. Glistening. Red on stark white. Lump. Fleshy. The words spin in my consciousness trying to form an intellectual string of descriptors. I have no reference point. “W-w-what the…..” my voice is hollow as I utter words I did not intend to speak. I feel completely out of control. I feel like I’ve stepped backward within myself. I take a breath. Function. Have to function. “Baaaad” whispers a tiny voice inside me, “This is reeeeeallly baaad.” My face is numb. I can’t feel it. I am staring out of my eyes, yet I feel I am removed from my eyes. I am not breathing, it feels stuck in my chest, everything is tight. What the hell is that!? My conscious mind breaks in and takes over.
A three-year old carrying three blankets? It makes no sense. Looking for a Toyota Camry, a plate number is given, also looking for a man, convicted of break and enter and previously accused of abduction of a child. Lives in the area. It makes no sense that this would not have been the first avenue of logic. A little boy is missing with ALL of his bedclothes!! This is completely out of the normal, I mean, can you imagine a tiny little three year old carrying three blankets through the woods of his neighbourhood???? Blankets muffle sound. Blankets keep sleeping children warm and undisturbed. Blankets do not get carried when sleepwalking. A picture of a policeman dusting the back patio door for fingerprints. Why is it so bad to just tell us what is going on?
Screeeeeeeee. High above, two branches rub against one another, were it dark, the noise would feel eerie, yet here, in the brightness of mid-day, there is just a slight shiver descending down the spine. The poplar forest stands as it has for hundreds of years, stoic against the earth, its golden trunks marred with the knots of age, seem to shimmer ghostly amid the rank of decaying matter below. There is a rustle off to the left. A rabbit sits suddenly still, ears listening, searching for the danger, nose twitching, testing the air. Its soft coat is beginning to gray. The crickets take his lead and a sudden silence falls all around. 10 seconds. 20 seconds. 30……a cicada buzzes in defiance of the stillness. All is as it once was, the rabbit shuffles off into the ferns. The crickets continue their chorus and the leaves above rustle softly with the wind.
(Sorry, but I’ll end it there, this story can go wherever it wants but I think there is a definitive tie between the three narratives….??? )