A step into the mist. A glimpse into paradise.
The mackle of early spring fog. The looming shape of a trunk, shaded by
the canopy, appeared and disappeared into the vacancy, a lulling whisper
trailed across the forest.
The red fox made sturdy steps across a
familiar and unfamiliar place. The distant banter and laughter of otters and
chimps, his much beloved friends, sank beneath the incessant chanting of aviary
and baboons. He felt a tinge in his nose as the indulging scent of sedges and
bluebells touched him, and the warm embrace of moisture covered every growth of
hair on his skin. He took a deep breath, caressing his lungs with nature's
delight, and he looked up to the sky and fazed into the half-occluded sun and
the lambent gleam of its morning rays. His whiskers drooped and he laid his
skull on his shoulders, in a slanted posture, as he rested and dreamed.
He had no idea how long he had stopped by. He
was mesmerized by the warmth of his surroundings and he adored it, refusing to
wake up. But as he detached further away from reality he edged towards the dark
side of his mind. A gaping hole inside his soul, a missing part of him dearth
of vigor and hope, begging to be filled. The cravings intensified and in a
disturbing jolt he sprang back to life. He was lonesome and dreary. The fog had
cleared the path in front of him and he got up to his feet and set off.
As he moved along he noticed something on the
ground. A dainty rose, cut at its stem, lying next to a couple of thorn bushes
and birch wood. Its exquisite red pedals struck incongruence with the bland
surface it was set on. Amused, he picked it up and held it in his jaws, its
blossom dangling at the side of his cheeks.
Minutes later he found himself in the midst of
a spruce forest, where lush leaves painted the world before him in green, and
the mossy forest bed was soft and cushy as ever. His brownish red coat
glistened with glamour and gloss. Suddenly, there was a shuttling in the
bushes, as of another person lurking close by. He looked around startled. His
ears raised, his body on full alert.
"You hideous monster." A voice came
from the proximity.
Out of the bushes came a slender figure. A red
creature striding on all four, with a fluffy tail and a pointy snout.
It was someone he had never met. A fox, of his
very kind, but slightly different. It is of lesser height and size, and in lieu
of thick muscles and mass there was the elegance of a curvy torso and thin
legs. Its beady eyes scintillated under the morning sun and its ears and
whiskers were delicate, handmade by the essence of nature. Its brush wavered in
the breeze, and as it went it swept the fallen leaves off the floor and over
its body as they swirled around in a dazzling display.
"And aren't you a rude meddler
yourself?" He snapped back.
As she opened her mouth, her voice was
feminine and soothing, with a soft rasp in it.
"That is no way to talk to a lady, don't
you think?"
"So what is your problem, girl?"
The lady fox circled around him, lifting her
paws high upon each step, a wry simper stretched across her face.
"You murdered her." She answered.
"You took the life of the most wonderful being."
"Why does it matter to you that she is
dead or alive? I just think it was cute. That's why I took it. I severed its
stalk and watched it gasped for breath. The leaves crippled and its blossom
writhed, and just like that she was terminated from living. It was enjoyable
for me to say the very least."
"Well, well ain't you a badass? You think
you have a say in her matter? You aren't even close to realizing the weight of
your actions, and now you continue to smother and torture this beautiful young
rose with your disgusting teeth? Do you know how much her life is worth?"
He looked at her grimly.
"Girl, I hate to be rude and hurt your
precious feelings, but had she been alive she would also have considered your
bantering ridiculous, for she had told me the exact opposite of what you said.
She never truly lived. Her existence was fleeting and hapless. Her beauty was
futile and wasted. Animals come by and went away everyday unaware of her
presence, for she was covered by the leaves and bushes of her humble
surroundings. The thing is, she was just as ordinary as everything else, in
contrary to your belief, because she was so hidden beneath the shadows that no
one saw her magnificent bloom. She looked back and regretted her whole life,
moaning in tearful eyes, of her ephemeral beauty and wretched fortune."
"I bet you must have pissed her to death
with your foul breath. Either that or she had suicided to free herself from
your bullshit."
"How about me straight up murdering her
ass."
"Oh that must be fun, while also making
you unforgiving," she said in an alluring tone, swinging her brush.
"You may live by no laws, but you shall live by my contempt. Her life, in
the height of its powers, were miles beyond what you could possibly conjure, or
anything you dared to be and pitifully failed. The subordinate had usurped the
superior. Such exasperating. You shall live in shame."
"Nothing is more superior than
others." He snapped. "She was just as useless as you. Now go away, or
shall I necessarily face your punishment? Shall I dig a hole and jump in it so
I can cover up my face and cry until the moment of my death? Would that be
enough of a compensation?"
"Death? To die is what you are saying?
Even as a virgin?"
He startled. She beamed cunningly, her sharp
eyes looking straight into his conscience.
"What do you know about me, you
idiot?"
She giggled and crawled around him coyly.
"Oh maybe I am the special one. Maybe I
know everything about you, or maybe that was just a wild hunch. Can you
possibly tell? Would you believe me if I told you the witchcraft that I
practice, the power that smolders and seethes underneath my skin?" She
giggled frantically. "That moment you build up your brittle pathetic defense,
I have scrutinized every detail of your mind. Your salacious desires and your
tumultuous thoughts, bundling up inside a troubled and powerless individual.
There is a gaping hole inside you, an absence of something rudimentary to your
well-being, and you tried your darnedest in order to fill it up, but you don't
even know how and what to do in order to assuage the pain you experienced. You
are falling deeper and deeper into the void without even knowing it yourself,
or you do now?"
"You are just fucking with me ma'am,
aren't you? What if I told you I've fucked a girl before? What if you are
plainly bullshitting all along, and that all your claims are outright specious
and untrue, your pretentiousness pestering and pathetic? It is so petty. You
are so petty, a cradle of fucking nonsense from the moment you walk in. Why,
just why, lady?"
Their eyes locked with each other's for a long
while. He was truculent. She was entertained. She beamed again, her sweet lips
extended across her cheeks. It almost felt like she was unmolested by his
words, that they barely left a scratch on her dignity. She waited and waited,
and when he started to feel awkward from the lasting eye contact, she spun
around and skipped into the bushes without any hesitation. Haha she laughed, a
mocking laugh almost taunting his outrage, then she was gone.
He didn't know what was happening. An impulse
traveled through his nerves. It almost like he wanted to follow her, and the
more he thought about his unlikely acquaintance he felt like he should, and he
would be bound to do so.
He was a fly in the web, ineluctably devoured
by this mystical force that popped out of nowhere into his world. Her scent
caught his nose and his legs shifted and shuffled automatically towards it. He
dipped his head close to the ground, his sweaty nose sniffling ravenously for
any remnants of his target. Down the rocky slopes and through the sandy pits he
went, and it didn't take long for him to come to the realization that the scent
was toning down as he proceeded, meaning that she had broken into a sprint,
toying with him.
"The bastard," he muttered, and with
a playful sneer on his face he started running, flexing his powerful muscles as
his legs stretched and bent at full speed. He was riding the wind.
The two foxes tunneled through the vegetation,
panting and perspiring as they played a game of chase.
It soon reached a point when she stopped, just
five minutes into the action, and she stood at the spot expended of energy. She
found herself right beside a fairly wide stream. The water was slow and fish
leaped and danced in the shallows. Jogging along the shore, a beaver arrived at
the scene and caught a glimpse of the haggard voyager.
"Tulip hey," he gestured at the lady
fox.
She looked at the rusty old mammal and smiled.
She was panting hard and sweat were dripping down her head.
"Ah Myrtle. I've fucked myself up again.
Every damn time."
"So what are you up to this time? Chasing
wasps? Climbing bears?"
"I'm changed," she sputtered,
"I'm messing with a bigger piece of shit now."
"You are a true wonder my dear. Just a
word of advice though. Always mind yourself, because you know what you are born
of, and you know your conditions. It is like you are ignoring the signs of your
body. Just saying 'cause you're a rebellious fellow. You ran again and stirred
up the concerns."
"I know what I'm doin' sweetheart."
There were tiny leaves and soil all over her face. She tried to wipe them with
her paws but ended up daubing the dirt all over herself.
A split second later the other fox burst out
of the trees. He didn't show any signs of fatigue, and his glanced around the
river bank with a determined look in his eyes.
The beaver gasped in excitement.
"Well, well," he said, raising his
eyebrows, "I'd be damned."
"Yeah," she panted, "just
appreciate the looks of this thing. Ain't this one big guy to fuck with?"
"Tell me you have more to say," the
fox snarled. "You don't just appear in front of me with a mouth full of
crap and leave without a hiss."
"Unfortunately for you that is exactly what
she does every time," said the otter. "She's probably done with
you."
The fox turned to him.
"Who the fuck are you?"
The otter raised his paws in defense.
"I play no role in this tale. Everything
happens between you two only. Is there any stuff you would like to sort out, my
dear Tulip?"
Tulip. Tulip. What a name, he mused. He looked
at her dirty face, upon which she turned bashfully to avoid his view. Tulip, a
flower fox. An inhabitant of nature. A child of nature. Tulip, oh Tulip. How
sweet is the sound, lingering between his lips as he spoke, so fondly pleasing
and oddly sensual.
She remained at the spot, still recovering
from the exhaustion. Embarrassed yet still reticent and confident, she glanced
over to the slow moving stream, staring longingly into the foams of water
splashing against the rocky sides. After a while, she turned to him.
"Grab me a fish from the river." She
shouted.
At first he was perplexed by her seemingly
random request. He thought for a while, and sensing the vantage of his position
he lunged at the opportunity.
"Wait, so are you asking me to bring you
food, a fresh living fish, just so you can satisfy your own appetite, to curb
your hunger?"
"Who said I was going to eat it? I just
wanted you to fetch one for me."
"And here you implied its imminent
death," he debated, closing upon her, "because if not, what else
could you possibly do to its poor soul?"
She gave a hearty chuckle.
"Silly silly fox," she said,
"you seem a little bit confused by my humble request, or should I say,
confused by what just came out of your very own mouth. Not that I must admit
that you were wrong about that. I have no other intentions except to crush its
skull with all my might and shove its flesh into my jaws. But, my friend. Your
mind is in the wrong place. You are accusing me, you wanted to, for I would be
a despoiler of life had I done that, which happens to mirror the treachery that
you have perpetuated moments ago. You have imposed before me a question,
whether the weight of my sins is as hefty as the weight of yours, and that
shall I fall victim to my own words, according to my standards, my philosophy?
Is that what you meant by your advance?
"Such silliness in you... The fallacy in
your claim is your assumption towards the victims in both cases. Life is not
all equal. Don't you see how disparate these objects are, the flower and the
fish? There's this being who had never been of any use to this world and
anything around it. It lived among so many of its kind, in this small cold
stream where it spent its whole life doing the banal chores of life, having no
qualities of great significance. It is a disposable animal. It has a mundane
appearance which does not strike me as a work of substantial value. Its death
barely leaves any ponderous ramifications, except probably a lost friend for
the other fish in the river, a fact that they are likely to forget a couple
seconds later."
"From my perspective, they are no
different at all." He argued. "Despite of the stark difference in
beauty and prestige, they both have to come to terms with the same fate -
death, and the acceptance of their insignificance. You may say the rose lived
to see a few swift days of blossom and beauty, while the fish never had these
moments. At the end of the day, still, both of them were buried in the shadows
and would never be discovered by anyone special even in their unceremonious
death, and so said they are never anything of worth in the first place. Fate
has drawn them apart from the glory and success they wanted so badly.
"This is where you are wrong. Life is
worth living once you seize your moment. You never knew when it will come, or
in what form it will take, but once it presents itself you will know. There may
or may not be a choice. Once you get there and you see yourself shine with all
glamour and pride in the universe you will have your place in time. You cannot
consider the rose unworthy. Not because she told you so. Not because no one saw
her when she is living her fullest. The morning she woke up to see her bud open
with an explosion of color, the stars would align and her name would be written
in the skies, as she stood out of all the lackluster trees and grass that
environ her and the world stopped in her honor. It might have been short-lived,
but it was salient. All that said, the life I take is lowly, the life you take
is lofty. There is no comparison."
"What is this distorted philosophy of
yours?" The fox jeered in disdain. "The moment you referred to could
be anything, in any given time. I can take a shit which could go down to be the
shit of my life. There can be billions of life-defining moments which I dream
of but will never be able to realize them. If it is really that arbitrary, why
wouldn't every life be as meaningful, or as meaningless as each other's?"
"Everyone has the chance, but it doesn't
mean they would be smart enough to find it. The fish is a metaphor, and in some
ways it is you. You have never seen the power of the moment, you have never
seen your own potential, and you may never will. I don't see you making any
headway on that front, because you probably don't know what you want to become.
You believe your current goals can lead you to the right path of salvation, but
I bet much of them are merely misguided truth. You believe in fate? Fate can be
brutal, but to other people, fate can also reward. Sadly, you aren't chosen for
a fairy tale character, and you will be the fish for the rest of your days,
ranting about how the rose is just the same as you. Now give me the fish."
The fox remained calm and silent, frowning.
The beaver was also still, and she, deflated
by the physical exertion, could barely stand as she spoke. Deep inside her, he
could see some of the most bizarre thoughts he could ever imagine coming from a
sentient being. Not even the wisest of men, nor the wildest of brutes, could
conceive of such atrocity of a theory.
He heaved a sigh, and turned languidly to the
river, succumbing to her persistence. Standing at the edge, his eyes shot
through the water surface, scanning over each and every unwitting carp and pike
swimming gleefully within his reach. He waited and waited, calm and ready for
any opportunity. Then the school of fish culled a few feet away from him. He
seized the moment and struck. In a blink of an eye his razor sharp claws had sunk
deep into the river in a raging blow. Water and mud splashed around and fish
darted aimlessly across the river bed, helpless under his manifestation of
power. He caught something in his paws, a trout struggling under his grasp,
blood streaming profusely out of its mouth and gills as the fox's claws
protruded from his scales. He lifted it up and walked toward the her, who
hastily took it from his paws and snatch it with her snout. She leaned closer
to his face, their whiskers almost contagious as she whispered softly.
"Good boy."
He did not say a word. She leaned back and
hopped towards a short shaggy willow next to the river bank. She laid against
its trunk and started chewing into the bloody chum that was the fish.
And so he sat down, his arms and legs crossed,
his brush swung over to the side his face, gently caressing it with his fur.
Peering over, he saw the beaver walking to his side, and he buried his head
into the warmth of his own embrace.
"Hey fella," in came his voice,
"If you don't mind me asking, I wonder why you would chase that crazy gal
all the way here."
He reared his head and sighed.
"I don't know. I really don't, but from
the moment I first saw her it seemed like I was hooked. I couldn't move for
half a second. There is this feeling that kept urging myself to pursue her, and
she possesses something that entices me."
The beaver listened eagerly.
"You are a virgin boy? You are
young..."
The fox returned at him grumpily.
"Why would anyone be interested in this
part? What is your problem sir?"
"Oh I'm not the one interested,"
laughed the beaver, "I'm sure someone else would be."
The fox gulped and stared at him, with a weary
look in his eyes.
"I've seen things my lad," continued
the beaver, "I can pretend to know everything happening in this world but,
you see, there's always uncertainties in this chaos that I couldn't grasp, or
fate that eluded my reach. I say you have the youth to know what to do, the wit
to follow up. I'll leave you at that"
"I don't understand you."
"Again I'm not the one you need to
understand. There's someone else in the forest scurrying around begging for
approval and attention, to assert her place in this universe. I've known her
for years, and she has never come so close to finding someone who could match
her intelligence and understand her ludicrous speeches. She has a glassy
exterior but a soft and tender heart, and like you sometimes she doesn't know
what she was talking about. I would recommend you to obey your instincts and,
let say 'indulge' her."
The beaver pointed at the person under the
tree.
"You see that tree over there? Your heart
is guiding you to that direction. You may not know why are you doing this, but
do mark my words, for your distaste towards fate would be proven wrong as it
turns to your favor. I have belief in that."
"What do you want me to do?" said
the fox.
The beaver turned to him.
"Look at you. Go look at yourself in the
water. Such a pitiful sight to behold, someone as handsome as you. There is a
gaping hole inside of you, a void you desperate to be filled. You wander out of
your abode and traversed this terrain in search for your true self."
"Why..." stuttered the fox.
"Why do you all pretend as though you know me?"
"Oh my child," smiled the beaver,
"maybe she is not really as special as you think she is. Then again she is
very special to you. I'd advise you to seek it out.
"And once again mark the words of old
Myrtle, my final gift for you, stranger. I know the end of your journey. I know
the end of your story. I know how it will end, and you'll know. You'll see, and
you'll know I knew, for it was all built into the present, the past, the very
inception. Tell me when you know, and on that note, go fetch that poor girl
some water. This is where I get off."
The beaver left without another word. He stood
up and saw him heading toward the lady fox, as he exchanged a few words with
her, and after a while he vanished into the forest without a trace.
He didn't feel obliged to follow his
instructions, but then again he wasn't obliged to follow that girl at the first
place, so what's the matter with doing what he told. He didn't know what to
expect as he dipped his snout into the stream and gathered a mouthful of water.
He raised his head and at that very instant knew what was to come, and he felt
all kinds of senses raiding his head, inexplicably so. There was a thrill in
his heart, a torrent of excitement surging through his spine and striking his
brain numb. It was a something he had never felt before, and had never once
thought of feeling.
He carried the water all the way to the
sleeping willow, his legs shaking against his will. Then he stopped a meter
away from her as he waited for her to rise to her feet. She has shaken off the
dirt on her face, and unveiling before him was the pretty face that hooked him
from the very start. His ears twitched and his whiskers trembled. His eye
opened wide, like a beggar at the face of gold.
"Why are you still here?" She said
in a hostile voice. "Fine you don't my ridicule. You think I'm assuming
you? Well hell yeah I did. Now ain't you mad? What are you gonna do..."
She stopped when she was met with his silence.
His face looked different and she was perplexed. It didn't take long for her to
sense his penchants and her cheeks started to redden. He walked closer and
closer, and he blushed as well.
"Hey, what are you doing fucker?"
She growled at him, as he drew in the distance.
"You...you thirsty?" He could barely
open his mouth.
"What? I...I'm not...thirsty?"
She tried to back away, but her back hit the
bark of the trunk. He was unhesitating, pushing forward with steady will and
great curiosity. Their eyes met, their faces under each other's heavy scrutiny.
Her guard was down, and the wicked smile gave way to a timid irresolute stare.
It was as if the thirst came to her, goading her an inch closer and closer,
until their nose were once again at the point of almost touching, and then they
did.
He could feel her now. He was in contact with
her, and in an instant all the cells in his organs danced in unison. His mind
was cheering him on, and so his head protruded, stretching his neck, her
whiskers tickling his. His mouth gaped and water roamed down his jaw. She did
the same, and their lips touched. He closed his eyes, and stars appeared in
front of him. He couldn't help but hold her tighter to his chest, pressing onto
her as hard as he could. She receded to his grip and closed her eyes as well,
her mind drifted out of her body while they shared this intimate moment.
He pulled away. Their eyes were transfixed
upon each other. She moved to one side, he moved to the other side; she moved
backward, and he moved to where she was standing. She waltzed into a bush, he
followed her lead, tiptoeing into the forest. Her body slipped between fern
leaves and slid under spruce logs. Once again he was bound by her spell, a
mystery he was curious for an answer. His thoughts had abandoned him, and
natural instinct had taken over. There is only one thing in his mind - there is
no turning back.
And as the two lovebirds ventured deeper and
deeper into the bushes, there was no turning back, and it was all destined to
be. They are closing to the end.