NaNoWriMo 2022, Fling Forty-Two

“I see a spiral of green and brown, turning inward and outward forever. I see light and dark, hard and soft, near and far”

“For me it is more of a feeling than a seeing. I see sounds, and I hear all of the endless curving lines; I smell the fragrance of vastnesses.”

“And what have we here? What have we here?”

Alissa, Sonorandelan, and Glomorominith had moved into the center of the clearing just as twilight started to dim the light of the day. Alissa had guided them through a ritual vaguely described in the stories, going from stone to stone, including the one in the burrow under the arranged bark-pile, reciting words, focusing their minds, concentrating themselves in each moment, each carrying a fragment of the fragment of dried armoyse from that burrow.

“And let us sing twilight songs of concentration,” she had suggested, as they completed the circle and then moved into the center.

Many of her friends and neighbors back in the rich dark earth, storytellers though they were, would have laughed or expressed doubts about the solemnity with which they carried out the ceremony, Alissa had thought. But it felt right to her, for whatever reason, and S and G had carried it out with her, entirely without question or frivolity. They had each taken a mouthful of the armoyse leaf and let it sit within their feeding chambers, slowly dissolving.

And then the world had dissolved.

“Do you feel at all ill?” Alissa asked, thinking suddenly of her body, which seemed to be essentially missing.

“Not at all,” Sonorandelan replied, in a voice full of blissful abstraction.

They turned and wheeled in the air, or not in the air but in some colored space full of spirals and impossible fragrances and the sound of the universe singing.

It is odd, she thought to herself, that I have lost my own body, but I can clearly see the bodies of Sonorandelan and Glomorominith swirling around with me, transfigured into beings of wind and light.

“Hello!” said a voice from nowhere, feeling like rainwater running over her mind.

“Hello, hello! Glomorominith!” came the voice of Glomorominith from somewhere.

“It is good to see that sweet confluence being used again,” the booming world-filling voice said from everywhere.

“It is good to have found my way back here,” said the voice of Glomorominith, speaking in a way she had never heard Glomorominith speak before.

“Ah, dear sibling, you are right on time!” And the universe was full of beings, made of beings, every twig and every gust of wind, every place and every thought, a separate individual raising a voice in song, joyously greeting Glomorominith, and with perhaps just a little less delighted recognition also greeting Alissa and Sonorandelan, as they all swirled around and around without moving, in that place of smells and time and stems and stories and songs.

“Is there a meaning in your coming now, my darlings?” the voice, the voices, asked after a moment or a century. “Is there a thing that you need to tell us, or a place that you need to go? All is open, here.”

“It was time,” Glomorominith answered, voice full and booming and gratified, “simply and purely it was time. A map was dispatched and read, there was a rustling in the stems, and we met three beings from another stream.”

“Mystery,” the voices of the universe sang, “mystery and mystery, all is mystery!”

Alissa felt a wave of vertigo pass through her, almost as though her body existed again, but was immediately buoyed up by all of the souls around her. She remembered how simple everything was, how all wisdom has always been contained in everything, how there are no secrets.

“Is there something you would like to do, my friends?” Glomorominith asked, “Now that we have remembered how?”

“For myself, I am utterly content,” Sonorandelan replied, “to be speaking to you in this place.”

Alissa thought, swirling through the densely-packed nothingness. Would she like to hear more stories? To see the earliest stories being played out in the ancient times? To meet the great linguists and inventors of the past?

“I would like to see those grubs again,” she found herself saying, “I was never able to communicate with them properly.”

All communication is perfect, she thought, because all is part of the same whole. But still, I would like to speak to them again. They were interesting.

Fling Forty-Three

2 Responses to “NaNoWriMo 2022, Fling Forty-Two”

  1. Love how these separate stories are converging…towards a big (hopefully satisfying) Finale!!

    Like

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