Library: Apples

on that autumn day, i sense the nearness of him and know it is time. making my preparations, i dress into my best clothes; the ceremonial garb of our people and my old prized knife at my side. then i lay down below the apple trees; those trees i love so much. i close my eyes. the air smells clear and slightly moist. i then wait for the one to arrive. a strange clarity steals over me. i can smell the air; it is so exquisitely clear and fresh; but with a chill of the coming winter riding on it. i enjoy the melancholy sense in the silence. suddenly a gust of wind shakes the trees and apples come raining down. i never got around to picking them this autumn. one lands near my leg, bouncing to the side. i know he is here. the clarity. soon there will only be a silence. a long rest. i open my eyes. around me, the trees. i am alone. slowly, i stand up. there are no apples on the ground. they are all in the trees. i was not taken. everything feels like a picture. it is not right. it will come crumbling down and something bad will be behind it. something unnatural. i was not taken. i go back to the cottage. i take out a low bench and a basket i wove myself. my back is not what it was. the bench helps me to pick the apples. i build a fire and sit next to it on the bench. i take a bite out of an apple. it tastes wrong. awful. i spit it out. the apples from my trees were always good. i go out; climb to the hill. a rock. it doesn't have moss on the northern side. moss never grows on the side which is not good; something my father told me. i sing to the rock. i tell it where it came from. i sing of the giant in the ground. i sing of birds perching on the rock. i sing of men resting on the rock, thankful for the relieve in their legs. i sing of the earth. when i am finished, i stand. i wait. a whisper from the ground. something wrong has come; it walks the earth. the bad thing comes from the north; the moss. i go down to the cottage. take out sword. take out small rock. i found it in a stream when i was a boy. it is grey like other rocks but i know it is a gift from the earth. him and the earth: my allies. the walk north will be long.

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