🚀 go-pugleaf

     She crept out at the first dull light of the samer than ever day,
in a season that barely passed for spring.  Beyond the dingy outbuildings
of the rattletrap farm she tiptoed, to fields where Uncle Stump ploddingly,
monotonously raised acre after acre of drab gray turnips, year after year.
     Out along the dirt track, she went, shivering.  Her worn, threadbare
vest did little to warm her.  Trails of mist wafted moist and breathy cold
around her ankles, and along her arms.  Trees loomed up out of the fog in
vaguely menacing ways, and she eased past them, wary, yet instinctively
following a feeling, a strange sense that tingled across her nerve ends,
drawing her on.
     There was a breath of otherworldliness about dawn.  A sense
that maybe, finally, the light would rise to burn away the gray
drear shades like mist, and reveal a truer, more verdant landscape.
But alas, it never did.  She sighed.  Simply at daybreak, she felt
the chance of it, and couldn't help but wish that it were true.
     So many things she felt belonged to be brighter, that weren't,
here.  Wistfully her mind turned to that, wondering how she knew so
strongly, surely, that they _ought_ be different, when they'd always
been so same, so gray...  But _somewhere_ they _were_ brighter, they
were!  She could feel that!  Somewhere, even simple things were more
vivid...
     She'd had a dream, once, back when she was just a wee lass,
that turnips were not supposed to be gray, but rather purple and
cream. Naively, she'd told the others at school, and been hooted
and mocked and scorned for days, even weeks, after.
     "Purple!" they'd cried.  "Like some vulgar weed!  What
a stupid girl you are, Gwenna!  Stupid, stupid, ugly haired!"
They were off on the chant again, jabbing and dancing around her,
while she cowered, terrified, shivering, til finally Jase Harkter
misstepped, tripped on his own feet, and falling, left a gap.  She
was through it in a flash, and racing for the shelter of her own
ground.  There, at least, they couldn't get her.  Uncle Stump
might not hold her in much account, but he did see to it that
they left her in one piece.  He had work to get out of her, so
he ran them off.  It was at least a relief to be out in the fields
alone, hoeing and weeding, with no pointing fingers and mocking
eyes.  It offered a respite, for a time.
     Oh, they never once let her forget she was different, those
Graysons, and that they would have none of her.  Only Uncle Stump
and Aunt Drelka were forced to, however reluctantly, on account of
being kin.  Someone had had to take her in when her Ma had unexpectedly
vanished like that, all those years ago when she was a tiny child.
     Gwenna swept back the wavy deep brown hair from her face.
When she was younger, how she'd longed for it to be dull flaxen,
and straight, like all the other little girls in her grade.
Yet over the years that had changed, until now, she took a
fierce, secret pride in it, the legacy her mother had left
to her, the symbol of difference.  Yes, it marked her.  She
could never fit in because of it.  And yet, surely _somewhere_
there were others like her, others of her kind.  Her Ma had
come walking in down this very track one day, Aunt Drelka said.
Pa had been just a leggy lad then.  One look at her had swept him
off his feet (and out of his good sense, the elder cousins had
clucked behind their hands, thinking she wasn't in earshot.)
Defiant of everybody, they'd wed.  Ma needed someone to look
after her, Pa had said, and that much was true, for she never did
remember where she came from.  Three years she'd stayed, doing
all manner of unaccountable, useless things, like twining flowers
into her hair, (weeds, Aunt Drelka called them), ruining a
perfectly good gray skirt with patterns of berry juice, and daring
to sing, "worse than a pesky dratted lark!" to her baby girl.
Gwenna remembered that singing, like a far off, beautiful dream.
And remembered also, warmth, and soft feather touches on her cheek,
and arms that held her gently.
     That had all ended, though, so horribly, one day when she
was two.  Aunt Drelka had told her, trying to help her understand.
Told how the storm swept up out of nowhere, how her mother had run
with her to the house, given her to Cousin Binnie, and run back
out through the driving wind to help Pa close the barn doors.
And how the great old lohost tree had been torn loose by a fierce
blast and come crashing down, pinning her Pa, crushing the life out
of him right before her mother's terrified eyes.  She screamed
then, Aunt Drelka said - one loud, anguished wail of horror and
grief, "like somethin'd tore her life out by the roots," and took
off running down the path she'd walked in on.
     That was all Aunt Drelka said, save that after the storm they
couldn't find her, that they tried, but they never did.  But old
Cousin Binnie had told her another bit.  She'd drawn Gwenna aside
and whispered it to her once, when none of the others were around.
     "There be summat else, child," she'd breathed.  "Summat none
o' the others did see, 'relse won't let on they did.  As she ran,
a strange light came around Seren, like a bright awful shiver all
over her, and something *flashed*!  _Then_ she was gone.  Twern't
nothin' normal!  I mebbe b'lieve, she went back somehow where she
came from.  Yes, I do."  Binnie blinked heavy lidded eyes at Gwenna,
and nodded slowly.
     "Well, you was an odd enough little bit already, such
a pity about your hair bein' so like hers.  Stump, he and
Drelka, they decided they got to raise you up as regular as they
can, try t' help ya live it down.  They warn't gonna tell ya
nothin' atall about enythin' differnt.  But I reckon, she was
yer Ma, an' it looked t'me like she keered a sight about ya,
an' it'd took summat as strange and horrid as that was, to fix it
so she din't come back for ya.  So you remember that, gal, you
remember.  And don't never you be shamed from her, n'matter what
they say.  Fah, I know they'll talk.  They'll whisper behind
their hands, and say mean, snaky things."  Her dark eyes lit
with sudden knowing.  "They do arready, dun't they?"  Gwenna
had ducked her head, and nodded.  Cousin Binnie put out a
gnarled old fingertip, and raised her chin with it.  "Well,
let 'em go, girl, let 'em go.  They never seen it!  _I_ was
there.  I tell ya, yer Ma loved ye.  Never fergit, and never
doubt, no matter what they say.  You remember that!"
     Gwenna had tremored, "Y-yes ma'am."
     "Won't be 'round much longer m'self, gal.  I'm wore all
out.  Hadda make sure to tell ya while there's still time."
     Gwenna had nodded again.  Binnie patted her gently on the
cheek, then made a small shooing motion.  "Now, thet's enough,
'cause thet's all there is.  You go on and help Drelka with them
beans, now."
     Gwenna fumbled for words, couldn't find them.  So instead, she
gave Binnie a swift darting hug before she fled, not to Drelka and
the beans, but to her secret place.  Far up the hill, far away from
prying eyes, she sat in a tiny hidden pocket of a cave, arms
about her knees, rocking herself, cradling that gift of knowing.
Tears streaked her face, and she let them fall.  She stayed away
there til sunset, letting it sink in, what she now knew.  When at last
she made her way back and Drelka asked what kept her, she said nothing.
Drelka huffed, but let it go with just, "None of your moods, miss!"
Gwenna took up the dishwashing as usual.  Yet she knew that something
deeply vital had changed with Binnie's telling.  There _was_ a Somewhere
Else, her Mother had gone there!  There was a way _out_!  There was!  If
only she knew how to follow...
     Sure enough, Cousin Binnie had sensed rightly, for only a few days
later she failed to wake one morning.  Later, Gwenna had shivered
at how close she'd come to never knowing.  A strange light!  A way out,
and maybe she could find it!  Still, she was afraid to go after it, alone.
     Until today.  Today that something that had been tugging at her for
weeks now, building, stronger and stronger, the feeling of something
looming, drawing near, was overwhelming!  It left no room for fear.
The sense that she must act _now_, was suddenly drivingly strong.
She must get to the cave for her touchstone, and then... then what?
She didn't know!  Yet there would be something...  She _must_ go!  Now!
     Safe beyond sight of the farmhouse at last, she kilted up her skirts
and raced up the path, anxious to get away.  Just as soon as she had her
geode, she could go...
     It was the one thing of her Mother's that she'd managed to save.
Drelka had thrown "all that useless rubbish" away on the dump heap.
Years later Gwenna had happened on it when it weathered out on the edge
of the pile.  She gasped as she recognized it, remembered how her Mother
had set it on the window ledge to sparkle in the light.  Quickly she
snatched it up into her pocket and ran for the cave, tucking it back
into the unseen crevice where she kept her getaway bag stashed.  Instantly
it became her dearest treasure.
     She knew better than to bring it to school, someone would try to
break it, and that must not happen.  Still she wished very much to learn
its name.  Cautiously she'd asked her teacher one day, "What would be a
rock that's rough and ordinary on the outside, yet has a space within, and
crinkly shiny bits that catch the light?"
     "Oh, you mean a geode," he had answered brusquely.  "A frivilous,
useless thing, not like good iron ore or copper, with which to promote
industry.  A triviality, one of the freaks of nature.  Those points inside
are crystals, and if the silica is pure enough, can be shaped into lenses
and other useful objects.  At least, so they did, in the old days.  In
modern times it's hardly worth the bother.  Why, did you find one?"
     She felt herself blushing, embarassed at his criticism of the secret
she so loved.  "Oh, j-just curious.  I, I saw one once.  I only just now
remembered to ask about what it was."
     He frowned at her sternly.  "Well, that's what it is.  Though you
would do better to devote your time to studies of the periodic table.  Go
re-read that chapter then, and write me a three page report on the uses of
metals.  Geodes.  Humpf!  What foolishness!"
     On the way home that day, Derek Semms had danced in front of her
chanting, "Useless!  Foolish!  Freak of nature!" until finally her
resignation snapped.  With a quick lunge she caught him up, and backhanded
him hard.  He staggered sideways into the culvert and fell tangled in a
patch of stickervines.  Shocked at herself, Gwenna had taken to her heels
and raced away, not stopping until she got to the cave.  She reached into
the hidden space that she could barely find by feel, and carefully drew it
forth.  "Geode," she whispered over her her treasure.  She allowed herself
a few moments marveling over it, then tucked it back away.
     Later, when Aunt Drelka tried to make her apologize to Derek, she
just set her lips together and stared stonily, saying nothing.  That had
earned her penance work scrubbing floors, which she hated.  Still, it was
worth it.  "Bet my Mother wouldn't have apologized, either!"  she'd told
herself.  And she held the spark of defiance inside, taking strength from
its burning.
     That spark flared up again this morning, stronger than ever, and
coupled with a wild yearning, a sense of heightening urgency.  She
would leave!  Yes!  Today!  No more fear, no more waiting - going _now_!
The need drummed within her, pulsing, sweeping her up the last rise,
through the concealing shrubs, into the cave.  She darted to the far side,
groping eagerly for her prize.
     Even in her haste, she made herself calm and handle the geode with
greatest care.  Gently she drew it out of its hiding place, breathed the
earth scent that clung to it, and tucked it into her getaway bag.  But
that didn't feel quite right, somehow.  She needed it nearer.  She took
it back out, wrapped it carefully in her hankerchief and tucked it deep
into her inside vest pocket.  Better.  Then she picked up her bag of
traveling food, tightened the lid of the water flask, packed it in and
swung everything up onto her back.
     Outside, the feeling was intense, demanding.  That way!  She took a
deep breath, and set off running, down, away from the farm, away towards
the city.  Somewhere out there was the source that called her, and she
ran toward it now with all her heart and will and strength.
     It was five long, hard, dusty miles to TedioCity, and it was past
midday when she got there.  Exhausted now, Gwenna walked along, almost
tranced, automatically turning down this street, ducking down that,
following the tingling pull, the sense of direction that had been so
urgently insistant.  Uneasily, she began to be aware that it was now
unaccountably fading, drawing away...  Suddenly realizing that the
dwindling of that sense could lose her the lead, Gwenna put forth an
alarmed burst of speed that brought her careening into a side street.
Halfway down, on the right, was a store with a sign saying Zrelda's.
A grayclad workman was just finishing boarding it shut.
     Stunned, Gwenna wobbled to a stop by a lamp post, and leaned against
it.  With growing dismay, she heard the carpenter grumbling under his
breath about ".....mumble annoying dang individualists!  Good riddance!
Causin' rainbows and purple clouds and then just vanishin'!  Nuisances,
all of 'em.  Hope they stay gone!"
     _Gone_!  She slumped down the pole to huddle folded in on herself
around the dull empty ache she suddenly felt inside.  To come so close,
and yet to miss!  The workman gave her a dubious glance, but said nothing
to her, and bustled away.
     All the miles!  All that way, and then to fail by _minutes_!  It was
more than she could bear.  Tears welled in her eyes and rivuled down her
face.  She clutched the lamp post like an anchor, not caring who could see,
and wailed aloud.  From the depths of her heart, with all her being, she
cried, "Oh, I _wish_ I could have gone with them!"
     And softly, gently, like a breath held in hush and then released, a
pale beam of sunlight threaded its way through the clouds and shone down to
warm her.  Gwenna gazed at it dully, at first only feeling a vague bit of
comfort from the warmth.  Then slowly it came to her that the light was
shimmering softly, was brightening, strengthening.... and something, a
shape, a _being_? was forming in the center of that glow.  A calm,
melodious, gentle voice spoke.  "I hear, and answer.  What you wish may
be."
     Gwenna blinked, jaw slack with astonishment.  "Who are you," she
gasped.  "Who _are_ you?"



(Hey, Teaser Question guy!  Heads up!  You're on!)

ERK!  ACK!  OOK!
QUESTIONS, GOTTA HAVE QUESTIONS...
WELL, GWENNA'S ALREADY ASKED WHO THE BEING IS.  MERF!

(So make with some other questions, already!)

I WILL.  GIMME A MINUTE, WILL YA?


SO, TEDIOCITY, EH?
DO WE REMEMBER OTHER PEOPLE FROM THERE?

(Hard to say, it's been so long...)

OH, HUSH, YOU!

WILL THE BEING GET GWENNA OUT OF THERE?
WILL SHE FIND THE OTHERS WHO LEFT BEFORE HER?

(Will the Author manage not to lose the file for 8 months
next time...?)

CUT THAT OUT!  _I'M_ SUPPOSED TO ASK THE QUESTIONS!

AHEM.  ALL THIS AND MORE, AT SOME RANDOM FUTURE TIME,
UNKNOWN DAYS FROM NOW, RIGHT HERE ON ------>SUPERGUY!





-- Peg Fisher        Charter Member, Live Poets Society
recycler@usit.net
Speak from the heart, and hearts will understand.