Unc and I keep walking this road, this Serpentine Road.  We hear a lot of things following behind us, keeping pace with us, in the woods on either side.  This is not always a good thing.  I have also discovered that my donkey likes to talk to himself, under his breath, all the time.  Sometimes what he mumbles is meant for me; usually it is not.  I have given up trying to decide what I should listen to and what I can ignore.  The sound of his voice is as droning and as comforting as the clopping of his feet as we travel side by side.  I keep my hand on his shoulder as a guide, since I keep getting lost in the forest of my own mind.  I need Unc to be there for me to lean on, for him to lead me wherever it is I am meant to go.

The noises in the wood bother me, but only marginally.  I imagine great beasts, full of talons gleaming and fangs dripping, following alongside of us.  Or, for all I know, it could be a battalion of mice.  In my own heart, I prefer the giant raging monsters to the tiny little forays of rodents, any day.  But that’s just me.

I retreat to the trees with which I am most familiar, those within my own mind.  The dusty trail before me vanishes into an airless desert, brighter than bright, clearer than clear, burning hot and all too empty upon my arrival.  I find myself kicking through sand, struggling to walk, as the earth beneath me seems to move and writhe, clasping my ankles to pull me, not down, but back.  Hold me back.  Slow down.  Slow down.  Sibilant whispers exhort in my mind.

For the first time, Unc appears with me, or at least part of him.  I am small, smaller, clinging to his tail as he pulls me along, yanking me as if I were a child having a tantrum in a store and the parent is all done with this mess.  I get a very good view of his backside, which I can truly do without some days, really, but this of all things anchors me.  My donkey’s butt is my comfort. I hear the murmur of his voice, the soft beat of his feet.  I watch his haunches shift and move as he walks on.  He is completely oblivious to me.  I am but a fly on his behind, or so it would seem.

A cool breeze comes, touching me, probing my temples with gentle reticent fingers.  There is a song to be sung, listening to this breeze.  It kisses me, taking the salt from my skin and creating an ocean zest that drives me on with a fuller heart.  I seem to be growing.  Still too small to be myself.  But that doesn’t stop me.  I try harder, pushing to keep up with Unc, but I am still too weak.  The donkey must continue to tow me along.  I cannot do it alone.

Soon, the breeze becomes a steady gust, coming from behind, pressing against me, giving me its strength.  I cannot help but cry.  My chest aches, where my heart should beat, where nothing remains but broken pieces and grit.  Tears burnish my cheek, but the sky above takes pity.  A warm mellow rain began to fall, echoing my tears, without the burn, without the pain.  It didn’t stop the welling up of emotions.  I held fast to Unc’s tail as the sobs hit me, over and over again, jerking me, causing me to lose my footing.  My placid donk did not seem to mind, did not seem to care.  He kept moving forward, unperturbed by me.

There was a great rock in my chest where my heart used to be.  The drizzle from the sky grew into me, through me.  Droplets with tepid ease pounding away at the rock inside me, wearing it down, wearing it away.  Until I crumbled.  Until I was dust.  I fell to my knees, but the donkey carried me on, unbeknownst to me.

I became a small seed, stuck fast against the ground.  A grand black bird swoops down to swallow me.  I find myself living out loud.  Falling then, in this dreamscape of mine, caught once more by the wind, gently buffeted down, til I come to rest on one single silver strand.  A multi-faceted face examines me.  With delicate fingertips, She caresses me, wiping away the tears and the roughage.  She starts to weave, all around me, over me, through me, intricate designs made from the finest of silks, braiding and building such a fine palace of thread.  She is illustrating my life for me.

I have no clue how long we stayed there like that, transported and transposed, held aloft, falling and yet not.  She drifts from one edge to the other, connecting here, connecting there, breaking things off in places, moving aside to reconnect and splicing in new lines.  My mind falters.  I watch the slim furred body jetting over here and there, sketching for me my own personal landscape.

She touches my cheek, long after I have gone to sleep and come back to myself, time and again.  The Moon has come and gone and come again.  She kisses me, with her tainted lips, her fangs covered but no less exposed.  I feel the venom slip down and touch me, sliding over my lips.  If all poisons taste this sweet, like the juice from a honeysuckle, then let me die in peace.  She wishes me well.  I am released.

I find myself again walking the Serpentine Road, my hand still on Unc’s side.  He is complaining under his breath about being forced to walk in the rain.  Sure enough, a light sprinkle of drops covers everything.  Almost a mist.  There is a smell to this air, so reminiscent of where I had just been.  I shiver, not from cold, but from recognition.  I edge closer to my mule’s side, trying to steal as much of his body heat as I can.

Unc stops dead in his tracks.  He slams his head against my body to be sure he has my attention.  So, fine, it does take me a few steps to realize he has stopped.  It doesn’t stop me from being surprised though.  ‘What?’ I demand, sounding more angry than I mean.  The mule actually sniffs me, as if he were a dog, nuzzling me darn near from head to toe.  ‘What!’ I nearly shriek.  Even for Unc this is strange behavior.

The donkey looks me right in the eye before snorting mucus all over me.  ‘You,’ he spits, ‘smell funny.’

I literally fall over, laughing, my arms hung round that mule’s neck.  It is just too funny.  After I can stand upright again, after wiping the tears of mirth from my eyes, still hiccupping a little from the deep belly chuckles, I ask, ‘What the heck do you mean by that?’

Unc takes a single step back, eyeballing me studiously.  He is not laughing.  ‘Take off your shirt.’ He orders me.

‘What?’ This is baffling.  Here we are, standing in the middle of what appears to be a very well traveled road.  Even though we had yet to meet anyone, that doesn’t mean if I start to strip someone won’t show up out of nowhere simply to see what sort of thing I wore beneath my outer clothing.  My donk is unamused.  ‘Do it.’ He insists.  I groan, not even under my breath.

Off come my outer wrap, which I draped with utmost grace over that stubborn ass.  Then my shift.  Then my shirt.  And as I look at my undershirt I see a strange thing.  Now, the entire kingdom can come watch me undress for all I care.  The undershirt comes off, as does the bra.  Over my heart is this wondrous amazing …. Thing.  And Unc is right.  It smells, strongly.  Smells of Spider’s poison and honeysuckle.  I’ve been marked.

Ever see a donkey slack-jawed with awe?  It’s pretty funny.  I would have laughed if I myself had not been so stupefied.  Woven into my skin, in the brightest of colours, is the tapestry of my life.  A map of my heart and soul.  ‘What a gift is this,’ drawls that irritating donkey of mine.  I stare at him, wide-eyed.  ‘What do you mean?’

I hate when my donkey snorts and blows snot all over me, but he is so good at it.  ‘You have been marked by the Hand of Fate.’ He tells me. So, of course, I glare at him.  ‘What does that mean?’  Donkeys can shrug.  Did you know that?  Unc bobs his head and looks away, not giving in to my sarcasm.  ‘Means you’re in for some real treats.’

I cover my breasts with my hands, finally.  I must have been quite a sight standing there.  I keep looking at this portrait on my chest.  ‘Yes,’ I implore, all serious now, ‘but what does it mean?’

Donkeys smile too.  Unc has a real huge malignant looking grin that can scare the monster under the bed into the arms of the monster in the closet.  He grins that huhge honking grin at me.  He knocks against my one arm with his big thick skull and brays, ‘You’ve been marked, Sister.’  And then he laughs.  Loud and long.  ‘That is your heart map, baby.’  Again with the laughing.  ‘You have a big debt to pay.’  Then he nudges me, carefully, almost tenderly. ‘Put your clothes on, girl.’  He takes a few steps back to gape at me.  ‘You’re about to get us both eaten, standing there like that.’  As if I were the one who all of a sudden decided to spontaneously strip my clothes off and parade around in public for the whole world to look at me.

I hmmph at him as I throw my clothes back on, snatching my wrap from his shoulders in a huff.  The evil creature giggles at me.  ‘Let’s go,’ He cackles at me, ‘before those beasties in the thicket decide they really are hungry.’

‘Great.’ Now I am muttering under my breath.  ‘Can’t wait for that.’  I have to jog a bit to catch up with Unc, who has already started off on his merry way after I took back my wrap.  I fall in beside him, grumbling inaudibly, as is he.  I don’t feel liberated anymore.  I don’t feel quite safe either.  The image over my heart does not burn with heat, but radiates a comforting sort of warmth.  After listening to my mule, I’m not so sure that is a good thing anymore.

Marked By The Hand of Fate

written by Tabitha K

http://onthewrongsideofthemirror.wordpress.com/