|
|
|
|
In the days of Fred everything
was confusion. Children
buzzed through the streets in
swarms eating the scattered
bricks. The older ones
burrowed deep to make friends
with the the cool dark soil.
And Fred? Fred danced.
Fred always danced a
soulless little jig up and
down the boulevard, leaping
fallen buildings, twirling
with the crumpled leaves. As
Fred danced, calling for the
sun to dance with him, the
children would stop buzzing.
They stopped just long enough
to pick up rocks and give Fred
a dance partner. Instead of
Fred's soulless , not quite so
graceful dance, the flying
rocks would bring feeling to
Fred's movements. His
attempts at the lines and
fluidity of the gods he
emulated became bent and
twisted. For a while, you
could see the soul in Fred's
dancing, an agonized soul all
akimbo. Then the children
would swarm off in search of
bricks. Fred's soul was
nothing new to them, nothing
that would ease their hunger.
Fred would stand there, alone
in his spotlight, waiting for
an applause that would never
come.
|
|
|
|
|
|
The leaves had quit falling
by the time the children ran
out of bricks to eat. The
Older Ones, no longer friends
with the cool soil, were
emerging to climb into little
fluffy clouds. And Fred? Fred
was still dancing. Fred kept
dancing even though the sun
ran further and further away,
ignoring fred's invitation to
dance. The trees all banded
together, folded themselves
into a ship, and sailed away.
A few leaves stayed behind to
remind Fred of his only dance
partner. Fred just kept
leaping and twirling,
stretching and bending... and
making people angry.
"Stop making all that
noise!" The Old Ones would
yell from their little fluffy
clouds. "Can't you see we are
trying to escape?"
Without any bricks left to
eat, the children became very
irritable. "It's all your
fault you stupid old man! If
you weren't so ugly and
clumsy, the trees would never
have left and we would have
something to eat." They would
beat and kick Fred until he
ran away or they became bored
and mumbled off into the
hills.
For many days it was like
this, could even have been
weeks as far as Fred knew.
The sun was far away. Long
were the nights and days of
poor Fred, but Fred didn't
think about it. He was to
worried about the cold.
As the sun flew further
away, the wind became
colder.
Fred danced harder. His
lean body being heated and fed
by his longing heart. His
feet would sometimes slip on
the ice or stumble on the numb
rocks.
The emaciated children soon
fluttered off in the rising
wind and the Older Ones in
their fluffy clouds were
pushed aside by the larger
more muscular storm
clouds.
As the sun slowly
disappeared behind the
crushing clouds and the rain
started falling, Fred realized
something. There was no one
to watch him dance. There was
no one to tell him when he got
it right! So Fred
stopped.
In the middle of a freezing
puddle, with hair streaming
into his eyes, Fred sat down.
And thought. Into the dark
he thought, and when the
puddle started forming ice
around the edges, he was still
thinking. Finally, too tired
to think any more, Fred slept.
While he slept . . .
he dreamt . . .
of . . .
|
|
|
|
|
|
Eyes. Eyes glistening
in the water. The
surrounding ripples,
like sobs, pulling at
the sky, the trees,
pulling at his heart.
As he stares at the
eyes, the clouds flow
through, misting his
thoughts and sight.
rays of light reach
down from the sky to
pull her out, into the
grey cold. The
iceicles smile. As
she rises, her hair
trickles down in
rivulets, cascading
over her shoulders,
some into her eyes.
She reaches out with
glass-like fingers,
stretching for the
sun. Her smooth
curves rotate, slowly,
sparkling,
hypnotizing. Fred
stares. Spinning
around them are the
bare trees, branches
wrapped around each
other for warmth, the
bushes at their feet
like stockings. The
world twirls faster.
The clouds, like
boulders in her river,
clash with her
fluidity. She slowly
spirals back down,
reaching out to the
iceicles. . .
Out of the
reflections in the
water. . .
out
to. . .
Fred
stared into the
puddle, at the ice on
his feet, then lept
into the air. His
search began. He had
to find where the
trees had sailed to.
He knew that when he
found the trees he
would find her. So
Fred danced. As he
danced he found the
children rustling in a
pile. The children
saw a different soul
in Fred's dance and
began to dance too.
When the Older Ones
looked out of their
little fluffy clouds
to see what the noise
was, they saw the
children swirling in
gusty circles around
Fred. They sprinkled
in one by one to join
the children with airy
smiles on their lips.
Fred danced on,
looking for the trees,
looking for her,
looking for a dream.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
