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Library: Apples


Author: Aarugotti
Date:Oct 14 1998

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.