The Weaver's Eye : Chapter 2

The Weaver's Eye : Chapter 2

Father was just barely a man and comparable to a throw rug, Mother could wipe her feet on him and he probably would not even utter a word of protest. It was easy to see that he held Mother in high respect, it was not plainly the fear of her that kept him obedient and loyal as it worked on me. Our boots treaded through the mud and wet foliage, already my feet were becoming numb but we did not stop for Mother’s wrath would be much worse if we returned empty handed. Trees crowded all around us so it would be almost impossible to see a clear path ahead, an unfortunate wanderer would surely have a difficult time finding his way out. Yet having grownup in these woods I felt like I could navigate through them blindfolded if there weren’t any tree roots to trip over.

Suddenly I saw a flicker of movement out of the corner of my eyes, turning around just in time to see a tiny white furred creature perched on a drooping tree limb. It had eyes like polished black pearls and three tails that wreathed like worms. I watched it as it sniffed about a bustle of leaves with its long rodent face. Father stood beside me, just as still as the willows, before pouncing at the creature like a great beast upon its prey. It squirmed in his big calloused hands in hopes of escape but to no avail. Exchanging the

Chirichua from his right to his left hands, he brushed the dirt off his clothes and stumbled up to his feet.

“It is much too small Father, it would be easier to catch something more worthy than to pick out the bones from this one,” I told him as he dangled the fretful thing by its tail before my face.

“It is a gift to you son, when I was younger and lived on my own I kept one of these as a companion. They are very amusing pets if you give them a chance, maybe it is just what you need,” Father smiled a crooked smile at me, extending his cupped hands that caged his prized catch.

“Thank you dear father,” I bowed my head, but not as low as I would for Mother. It is not often that someone offers me a gift and it would be impolite to refuse one but I could see how even a small-brained rodent could offer comfort. Any secrets spoken between me and it would not reach other ears, or so I was callow enough to think at the time. I bashfully accepted Father’s gift and carefully slipped it into my coat pocket, wrapping its miniature muzzle with a bit of cloth so that it would not nip me at the hip. Then I did likewise to its legs so that they many not scurry back out into the forest.

By the time Father and I returned home it was already dark and Mother waited by the fireplace with her usual displeased expression. Father swung the canvas bag off his back and over his shoulders so that it dropped to the floor. As the bag unraveled it revealed a gruesome bloody heap of bodies with some of their limbs still twitching. The only thing more revolting than the sight of it was its pungent smell, inducing me to gargle up my breakfast. While I covered my mouth in disgust, taking several steps back, Mother approached the pile and prodded it with the tip of her shoe so that some of the carcasses would topple over. Somehow seeing the corpses laying so unceremoniously made gathering them much more wicked and sickly than it did when we were in the forest. I would spot them leaning on a tree or under a pile of leaves or at worst in a hunter’s trap. Then Father would kneel beside them and gently pick them up, placing them in the sack as gently as if the mangled animal were a sleeping baby. He would even whisper a small prayer on the creature’s behalf to ensure that it would be welcomed by Kala in its next life. I quickly excused myself and rushed up the flight of stairs to my room, I could not bear to remain in the hall for a second longer.

It had become so late that dim stars could be seen in the midst of the black velvet sky and somewhere in the distance I knew were the three artificial suns that sustained life near and far. Although to me the world seemed vast, the inhabited borders had been drawn tighter than they once were. This was so precious energy could be saved, concentrating the sun’s warmth on the most populated areas and forcing millions to move home. I found it rather ironic how much I knew about the world without having ventured from the woods. The words of books and Mother’s teachings only spurred my intrigue and urged me to break free of the protection of solitude. There were days when the desire was so strong that I entertained the idea of running away. I would simply filing open the door in the dark of night and run as fast as my legs would carry me, not caring where they would take me.

I saved such fantasies for the dreary day s when I could scurry off to the Toad’s nest, an abandoned cavern I came upon several years back while gathering twigs and timber for the hearth. Its name I coined from the toad shaped boulder by its entrance. Over the years I worked to make my home away from home cozy and livable with a welcoming ambience. It had a carpet of fur hides sprawled across the floor, a shelf filled with jars of nuts and berries in case I grew hungry after my trips, and even a hearth of its very own to keep the place warm during the winter. And when I closed my eyes it would become even more so luxurious with rich woven rugs, a banquet fit for kings, and crystal chandeliers. As I wrapped myself in a bundle of blankets I would let my dreams take flight, some of which I would share with Dentrill, so I named the rodent Father gave me. And it just so happened that his fur was not snow white but a dusty gray once the Rusma tree pollen had been shaken off. I could not help but wonder why the tiny creature made such a great effort to scale the towering trees since there was hardly anything edible at such an altitude. Perhaps it was the view that drew him, the entire forest could likely be seen from the peak of the Rusma tree or even as far as the city. If I had any climbing ability whatsoever I would have undoubtedly joined him.

Once it was decided that Dentrill would be staying permanently I knew that I could no longer risk keeping him in my bedchamber. If Mother had not discovered him yet she most certainly would on one of her cleaning frenzies, what she did was not so much cleaning but stirring the dust about, ushering from one corner to the next and raiding through my belongings in hopes of unearthing something incriminating. For that reason I decided to keep Dentrill high above her sightline, suspending him in his cage from a crooked nail in one of the ceiling planks. But all Mother had to do was look up on a whim and Dentrill would be swirling in the rapids of the nearby creek with me right behind him, fending just as well. And so it was concluded that in the nights cover I would sneak Dentrill to the Toad’s nest and be back before I was missed. I waited for what felt like a sound hour, staring up at the ceiling from my bed, too tense to catch a wink of sleep. To pass the time I watched the cage twirl on its string from the draft, hanging over me like an anvil.

After the ruckus in the kitchen had ceased, I assumed that Father had long since climbed the stairs after a midnight snack. But just in case I laid still for an extra few moments. Once I was certain all was calm I pushed away my blanket and climbed off my bed, scanning the darkness of my room as if something was out of place. Knowing Mother was one with a sharp ear I took extra care in setting up the ladder in aide of reaching Dentrill. If it were to slip on the floorboards with a clamor a few bruises would be the least of my worries. One by one I climbed the steps, a few of them creaking ominously under my weight. Luckily the wooden rods held strong while I unraveled the rope around the rusted nail to release Dentrill’s cage into my arms. I could see his tiny pink nose and whiskers peeping through one of the air holes as he squeaked in anxiety.

“Shhh, you will face much worse than a mild earthquake if you do not hush now,” I spoke softly, gently pecking the rodent’s nose with my fingertip, and in response he retreated back into the hallowed out fruit carcass that was his cage. My own shakiness was lessened now that I was no longer distracted by Dentrill’s unnerving high-pitched voice. Yet I could still not breathe easy expecting to hear Mother’s heavy footsteps thumping up the stairs. I told myself that I had nothing to fear, Mother was used to hearing me lurk about at night. I once knocked over a porcelain teapot and even the sound of it shattering to bits did not make her stir. She likely decided the pot was not worth getting up for and she could scold me for it in the morning.

Still holding my breath, I inched down the ladder with one arm wrapped tightly around the cage and the other gripping the steps in turn. At last reaching the ground, I pulled on my coat worn black coat and crept out of the room. When descending the flight of stairs that lead to the front door I moved ever so slowly, groping the railing as I went in case my foot did slip. All the while my gaze was fixed on the frame of light around the door, filtering through the darkness of the house. The moment my hand could touch the rusted doorknob I felt a surge of energy from all my fright and the adrenalin did not allow me to spare a second to put on my boots. Instead I just grabbed them and ran, ran like a deer with the sound of a bullet still ringing in its ears. I raced wildly through the open space. When I looked behind I could see Mother’s towering house stoop towards me and all I could do was laugh. With all its rotting planks bending as far as possible still it could not catch me, perhaps it would collapse from such an effort and Mother would be none the wiser in her eternal slumber. The round attic window glared at me like a furious eye as the house became nothing more than a dark silhouette in the night sky.

By the time I reached the woods and clambered down the hill, my toes pulsed numbly from ice and mud. Even so I would rather be where I was then than sleeping in my bedchamber. The mist-shrouded woods had a way of drawing one in to a world separate from all others, a world were all is surreal and untouchable, forever unchanging. With its aura of mystery it seemed both comforting and menacing. I stopped to catch my breath, looking up at the canopy of branches overhead and then at the moonlight piercing through and making the pebbles dance in radiance as if they were made of crystal. It was ethereal, the forest. I basked in the light of this world that was all my own, almost believing that it could protect me, hide me from Mother so deep within itself that no one could ever reach me. In a cloak of darkness that even moonlight could not penetrate. Blinking the sleep from my eyes, I sat down on a dry log and massaged my throbbing feet. Looking back, I could hardly imagine what I was thinking, why I ran. If Mother was to peruse me she would have caught me whether I limped like an old man or flew like a raven. There are times when I can not understand myself and disregard what is logical. It is as if I slip into a dream where things seem to be more than what they are.