Mourning Tree (Excerpt)

FICTION

By Maria Blackhawk

The snow was falling gently on a dreary winter day. In the middle of the afternoon, I drew the heavy bedroom curtains and with the room now in darkness, lay down in my bed. The feather pillow that in the past had softly cradled my head, now felt like a cement block.

I had a headache so severely painful that I cried and begged God to just let me die. I didn’t remember falling asleep. The excruciating pain may have pounded me into unconsciousness. I sank into a deep sleep that provided me a desperately needed respite from the horrible pain.

In the deepness of sleep, I arrived at that place where one dreams. I was walking alone down the bush trails in the warm summer forest, which I loved, especially on clear, sunny days like this.

I looked up to a bright, cloudless sky. With every step, my feet sank into thick, plush moss and my weight forced the water from the moss to ooze to the surface and up around the soles of my shoes. Even though I found myself in an unfamiliar place and in a different season, I was not alarmed.

Deeper into the forest, I came upon a campsite that I had never seen before. It was located in a small clearing and it appeared to be an ancient place that had long been abandoned. The tallest poplar trees I had ever seen surrounded the camp, creating a perfect circle of evenly spaced pillars. I got the impression that this place was somehow sacred, like a church.

I thought about the huge boulder structures of Stonehenge in England. Large rocks that were covered in moss and dead leaves, formed a circular fire pit in the center of the clearing. There were pieces of rotting wood in various shapes that, upon closer scrutiny, looked like they might have been used as tools.

A broken, rotting pair of snowshoes was tossed to one side and a makeshift table had toppled over after its two legs had collapsed. I was fascinated by these ancient artifacts. I picked up the snowshoes and ran my fingers along the dry sinew webbing. I had to pick up and examine every item I could find and allow them to tell me their story.

After a thorough survey of the site, I returned by the path that brought me there. I hadn’t gone far when I heard the yells and shouts of several people coming in my direction. I waited to see who they were. As the shouting grew closer, I realized that I couldn’t understand what they were yelling. The language was one I had never heard before, but the anger and threat in their voices was unmistakable.

Then I saw them. They didn’t come in single file on the path. They were spread out among the trees forming a line intended to cover more ground and make driving and capturing prey easier.

They were the ancient ones, the ancestors, clothed in buckskin, fur, small bones, claws and feathers. They had tanned skin and long, dark, flowing hair. The expression on their faces left no doubt that they were fearsome and dangerous. They were warriors and they were armed with spears, clubs, and axes made with flat, blunt-edged rocks.

None of their weapons contained any metal or modern materials. They were closing in on me and without thinking, I ran back toward the ancient campsite. I knew that if they caught me, they would kill me without hesitation. With every step I ran, the warriors seemed to draw closer.

Finally, I reached the site, and there by the fire pit stood another warrior. He was a giant, at least 14 feet tall. His entire body was wrapped with a large blanket that was draped over his shoulders and the blanket ever so gently brushed the ground. I could not make out his facial features because the sun was shining directly behind him. All I could see was his black silhouette.

I knew that if he moved either to the left or the right, that I would be blinded by the sun streaming behind him. His long hair fell halfway to the ground. A gust of wind would catch and tousle his long strands of hair. There was a gentleness and calmness to the giant dark shape that assured me that it was not threatening. Suddenly, his arms were being outstretched and the blanket transformed into what appeared to be a dark wall. Despite the fact that he had no visible weapon, I was certain that if I could reach him, that I would be safe.

The warriors were still coming toward me in numbers greater than I had initially assessed. Some were close enough to start throwing their weapons at me. I ran toward the figure and wrapped my arms around his waist and waited for death. I looked up but couldn’t see his face. He was drawing the blanket around me in such a way that I seemed to be in a heavily draped circle that was large enough to have a few paces of walking space.

It was also bright in there, like being outside in direct sunlight even though there was no way that the rays of the sun could penetrate this enclosure to reach me. A warm breeze fanned me and softly blew throughout the enclosure to provide even more comfort. But I was still too afraid to release my hold of this stranger.

I could hear the yells and shouts. I could hear the anger in their voices but my protector remained silent. I could see that they were throwing their weapons against the blanket in a futile attempt to extract me. For several minutes the attack continued. I watched with fear as the weapons bounced off the blanket.

In an instant, it became so completely silent that I wondered if I had lost my hearing. I felt the movement of something floating in the air, invisible but present. It was intangible at first but grew stronger with every second. I knew that I was totally and completely safe here and that nothing of man or nature could hurt me no matter how hard they might try.

I was protected. I had never, in my entire life, felt this pure feeling of love, peace, safety, security, and total invincibility. The fear of the pursuers was replaced by the need to hold on to these feelings. The terror was gone and I no longer feared anything or anyone.

Even death was unable to inspire or provoke any fear in me now. I released my hold on my protector and tried to see this growing presence but saw nothing but the glimmering brightness of the enclosure. I never wanted to leave this sacred place. I wanted desperately to hold on to these feelings that were so overwhelming, I would have gladly given up my life to keep them.

It was so completely overpowering that I knew I would never have to miss or worry about those I loved and would be leaving behind. I had the unmistakable impression that this veil of protection would shield my loved ones from harm also. I wanted to stay there forever but somehow knew that I would not be allowed to remain.

I woke up, instantaneously returning from the dream realm. The room was dark and my headache was gone. Like armour, I could still feel the safety and security that had wrapped itself around me. It lasted only for a few more minutes, but I felt it and knew instinctively that I would never feel this again in my lifetime. I knew that no words existed that could clearly describe what I had experienced. I also felt that I had received a great and powerful gift. I thought of it as a blessing.

From this day on, I would heed the messages delivered to me in dreams. The despairing, sickly and frightened child was left behind. From now on, I would face my fears blanketed with something tremendous and powerful.