The day after the rain stopped, the girl came upon a kind of cave. It was a makeshift shelter built from the natural deepening of the rock. There were twelve paintings or groupings of markings inside.
It was evening and the light from the moon was the only way she could see inside. Tracing her finger over each symbol and picture, she wondered…
who made these?
She had never seen anyone in the forest, but here were all these paintings and so far away from any of the towns she knew around. How did it get out here and why put it so far away from everywhere else people would see it?
Some had very intricate designs and details. It must have taken a long time to do this. She walked from one to the next staring at faces. Birds and plants. An animal she had never seen before – one she didn’t know the name of, but looked very intimidating. She watched the animal for a while and it reminded her of something she could quite figure out.
As she stared at the paiyings she followed the lines from one to the next. Her eyes felt heavy. She heard a low hum a high-pitched buzz and then suddenly, silence and a flash.
an old woman tending to a fire
part of her face hidden in shadow
outstretched wings of a bird
looking up to touch a feather
the deepness of the air
a drop of water plunks into a pool
and the circles
the ripples form
drop of water, as if suspended in time
lying in a bed waking from fevered dreams
looking to the arms
seeing they are drenched in sweat
a yellow flower
old woman laughing
and the animal lunges
red spots on green grass
rustling brown crumpled leaves
a trail of incense
and tall trees
light in back of clouds rolls across the sky
And she blinked. She looked around. The paintings were still there.