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tinderbox megaton


From: Constance Lake
Subject: tinderbox megaton
Date: Wed, 9 Aug 2006 13:38:41 +0200

There was a yellow tarpaulin tentedacross her middle. They looked like mere sticksin the vast sea of green that had swallowed the old village. As we slid through the water, hour after hour, I found myselflistening for the OO-oo-oooeo. I felt like a thief taking possession of anothers things withoutleave. At the sound of thekey in the rusty lock, rats scuttled away. A fierce sun burned down as ifit wanted to expose every ugliness and forlorness. Taut,motionless, uttering no word, she watched them grow. The school teacher had left everything shipshape. As dawn came I watched things slowlypoke out of the black. She summed up the depth and charm of the whole forest,driving away its menace. It was cut offfrom the school house by space filled with desperate loneliness. Sophies other neighbour, Susan, produced and buried babies almostas fast as Sophie herself. The girl was rigging a ragged flour sack in the canoe for a sail. It was like beingswallowed again and again by some terrible monster, but never goingdown. She drew a humped wrist across her nose andsaid, I dunno, I dunno, after each remark. Tommy knew that day had come when he felt Jenny Two-Bits stickjab him. The nettles that were above my headreached only to her knee. Thewind and the waves were crisp and sparkling. The barefoot children swarmedover her side and waded ashore. So we went to Gittex and Angedar, two old village sites on the NaasRiver. It had hardly beenout of them since I had taken it to her a week before. Susans hand crept from beneath her shawl to touch a babys leg. These children belongedto the beach, and were as much a part of it as the drift-logs andthe stones. This was DSonoqua, and she was a supernatural being, who belongedto these Indians. When they were all linked together they madevery strong talk for the people. One of the women came in and tried to free me. The old man and the woman, where are they? There was a baby tucked into the womans shawl; the shawlbound the child close to her body. She was a friendly soul, but she spoke no English. When they saw me, the boy hung back and stared. The creatures faces were swollen into wrong shapes. Storms had robbedhim of both wings, and his head had a resentful twist, as if heblamed somebody. But each had alittle new grave in the cemetery. They had hung a tent from the limb of the old willow tree thatlolled over the sand from the bank.

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