Friday, September 18, 2009
Friday, August 28, 2009
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Prologue
Yet today, tomorrow, and the next day I must be on my way, because it is impossible for a prophet to be killed outside of Jerusalem. Luke 13:33
Jordan packed carefully. Whatever she took she must carry. Weights and burdens were not gracefully borne by her. She equated freedom with feathers – birds and angels. Lead boots and hard pavement and the slow tramp in army fatigues in a heavy rain marked the confinement and death of a delicate spirit. She did not yet know that there exist spirits more rugged, hardened, patient and ruthless. Innocently, she left home.
The bus windows were steamy. Outside was still dark and passengers slept, legs stretched in the aisles creating an obstacle challenge as the bus lurched, buffeted by a winter wind, speeding along the Trans Canada. Jordan picked her way to the back, crinkling her nose at the pong of sweat, socks and urine. Sitting in the bathroom, she contemplated the nature of God and the hole in her jeans. Someone rapped politely on the door and she quickly landed. Space case was not an inaccurate description of this skinny girl, traveling 3000 miles cross-country with a bus ticket and $20 and little more than a tooth brush and the inevitable fat book.
A man stunned her a smile as she stumbled against him.
“I was hoping you’d do that.”
“Sorry. I don’t have my sea legs on.”
“You’re a mermaid then?”
“I guess.”
“Come sit with me. We should get on swimmingly.”
“I’m with someone.”
“I know. A handsome hunk of a book you snuggle up with, contemplating deeply his innermost being. I don’t bite and it will make the miles speed by.”
Jordan made her way back to her own seat, stared at the passing dark, then at a page wondering why she was so shy. Rocked to sleep by the road and the mystery, she dreamed.
Today
The road stretches across a barren landscape. Sand not tarmac. Our heavily loaded caravan makes its way toward the distant oasis. Horses wheeze and camels sneeze as they wind along the ever narrowing road climbing out of the canyon to the desert fortress. The desert spreads from horizon to horizon and the expanse and heat remind us of our thirst. There is nothing to do but press on, every canyon yielding another in seemingly endless series. When we reach the hidden cistern it is obvious someone has been here shortly before us. Nervously we scan the horizon but we are surrounded by hills and have no advantage in case of attack. We are hemmed in on all sides. The only way out is up and we make perfect targets. Thirst drives us and we abandon the caravan to make the short walk to water. Every shuffle of the animals spooks us because there are no friendly faces in the desert. We carry the wealth of two years trade and we could be reduced to nothing in a single encounter.
“Catch.”
I jump and drop the pouch tossed to me. “Idiot”, I mutter but not loudly because my companion is a large, solid mass of desert disaster and stinks of camel dung and sour wine.
“Drink.”
Bully dressed in monosyllables.
Tomorrow
We spend all day winding our way out of the crater. The valley is surrounded by steep walls and drained by a single wadi. The riverbed is dry so it makes a good path and the animals seem pleased that they are off the shifting sands. I know I am. If the thick leather thongs braided about my ankles did not hobble me I would leap from rock to rock and scramble to the highest point of heaven, that patch of ever blue sky ringed by the crater’s edge.
“Hey!” I felt the tug before I heard the shout. I was on the ground and dragged back into dreaming…
The smell was stronger now. My captor stood astride me, kicking at my shoulder. I rolled over with all the grace of any creature bound hand and foot.
“Up,” he belched. His meaty sun cracked fingers tangled my hair. I disappeared in the folds of his jallabiya and fear took me as I felt the iron of his bulk and muscle. Threat surrounded me. The desert and the man. He lifted me to the donkey’s back and, for the first time in months, I felt a glimmer of what it meant to be free.
The next day
“Eat. You’re worth nothing dead.”
I picked at the fossils and pebbles jutting from the steep escarpment. Millions of years old and counting. I wondered what of me would last that long. Given a choice between preservation beneath layers of mud and an eternity soaring with angels I chose the latter.
“Do you want something to eat?”
Jordan looked out the window. The bus had stopped at a predictably desolate Greyhound Station. The swirling snow caught the eerie light and seemed colder in blue. The inside of the bus was hot and stifling. The man who had teased her earlier was sitting beside her now. Brought up to infinite politeness, she asked his name.
“Joe. Come on; I’m buying.”
Jordan packed carefully. Whatever she took she must carry. Weights and burdens were not gracefully borne by her. She equated freedom with feathers – birds and angels. Lead boots and hard pavement and the slow tramp in army fatigues in a heavy rain marked the confinement and death of a delicate spirit. She did not yet know that there exist spirits more rugged, hardened, patient and ruthless. Innocently, she left home.
The bus windows were steamy. Outside was still dark and passengers slept, legs stretched in the aisles creating an obstacle challenge as the bus lurched, buffeted by a winter wind, speeding along the Trans Canada. Jordan picked her way to the back, crinkling her nose at the pong of sweat, socks and urine. Sitting in the bathroom, she contemplated the nature of God and the hole in her jeans. Someone rapped politely on the door and she quickly landed. Space case was not an inaccurate description of this skinny girl, traveling 3000 miles cross-country with a bus ticket and $20 and little more than a tooth brush and the inevitable fat book.
A man stunned her a smile as she stumbled against him.
“I was hoping you’d do that.”
“Sorry. I don’t have my sea legs on.”
“You’re a mermaid then?”
“I guess.”
“Come sit with me. We should get on swimmingly.”
“I’m with someone.”
“I know. A handsome hunk of a book you snuggle up with, contemplating deeply his innermost being. I don’t bite and it will make the miles speed by.”
Jordan made her way back to her own seat, stared at the passing dark, then at a page wondering why she was so shy. Rocked to sleep by the road and the mystery, she dreamed.
Today
The road stretches across a barren landscape. Sand not tarmac. Our heavily loaded caravan makes its way toward the distant oasis. Horses wheeze and camels sneeze as they wind along the ever narrowing road climbing out of the canyon to the desert fortress. The desert spreads from horizon to horizon and the expanse and heat remind us of our thirst. There is nothing to do but press on, every canyon yielding another in seemingly endless series. When we reach the hidden cistern it is obvious someone has been here shortly before us. Nervously we scan the horizon but we are surrounded by hills and have no advantage in case of attack. We are hemmed in on all sides. The only way out is up and we make perfect targets. Thirst drives us and we abandon the caravan to make the short walk to water. Every shuffle of the animals spooks us because there are no friendly faces in the desert. We carry the wealth of two years trade and we could be reduced to nothing in a single encounter.
“Catch.”
I jump and drop the pouch tossed to me. “Idiot”, I mutter but not loudly because my companion is a large, solid mass of desert disaster and stinks of camel dung and sour wine.
“Drink.”
Bully dressed in monosyllables.
Tomorrow
We spend all day winding our way out of the crater. The valley is surrounded by steep walls and drained by a single wadi. The riverbed is dry so it makes a good path and the animals seem pleased that they are off the shifting sands. I know I am. If the thick leather thongs braided about my ankles did not hobble me I would leap from rock to rock and scramble to the highest point of heaven, that patch of ever blue sky ringed by the crater’s edge.
“Hey!” I felt the tug before I heard the shout. I was on the ground and dragged back into dreaming…
The smell was stronger now. My captor stood astride me, kicking at my shoulder. I rolled over with all the grace of any creature bound hand and foot.
“Up,” he belched. His meaty sun cracked fingers tangled my hair. I disappeared in the folds of his jallabiya and fear took me as I felt the iron of his bulk and muscle. Threat surrounded me. The desert and the man. He lifted me to the donkey’s back and, for the first time in months, I felt a glimmer of what it meant to be free.
The next day
“Eat. You’re worth nothing dead.”
I picked at the fossils and pebbles jutting from the steep escarpment. Millions of years old and counting. I wondered what of me would last that long. Given a choice between preservation beneath layers of mud and an eternity soaring with angels I chose the latter.
“Do you want something to eat?”
Jordan looked out the window. The bus had stopped at a predictably desolate Greyhound Station. The swirling snow caught the eerie light and seemed colder in blue. The inside of the bus was hot and stifling. The man who had teased her earlier was sitting beside her now. Brought up to infinite politeness, she asked his name.
“Joe. Come on; I’m buying.”
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About Me
- Wendy Wilkins
- Wiveliscombe, Somerset, United Kingdom
- Wiveliscombe is the perfect town for me. I love my family. God is good.