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From: tcarvett@earthlink.net
Subject: The Sundial: the Hour of Beginnings (MF rom)*
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The Sundial
Prelude
A pillar of stone, almost thirty feet tall, stood in the center of
the clearing. The stone was oddly human-shaped.
Around that pillar were twelve giant slabs of sandstone weighing over
twenty tons each, arranged in a semicircle. There was a walkway made of
stone that passed north through the opening of the semicircle of stones.
A small circle was inscribed in the face of nine of the twelve slabs,
and on the Summer Solstice, the tip of the shadow cast by the center
pillar touched one of the circles every hour.
Below each circle was a story written in a language long forgotten;
the stories told the history of the people of island.
At the dawn of the Summer Solstice, the faint long shadow of the center
pillar touched the circle marked "The Hour of Beginnings." The story
beneath the circle told of how the seasons came into being.
* * *
I. The Hour of Beginnings
Anea woke up hours before the sunrise. For the past few weeks, she
never slept more than four hours at a time, and she never had any dreams.
She stretched her thin arms, heard the joints of her elbows crack, and
left the hut without washing. The coral stone necklace that her future
husband gave her was still in the hut.
She had been working very hard for the past few weeks, and seven days
ago she fell ill and became feverish. A large red blister appeared
in the center of her forehead, but she never stopped to rest for long
during the day. She needed to make twenty more pieces of cloth as part
of her dowry. Her wedding was the next day.
She went to the tub where she soaked strips of bark from wauke and mamaki
trees, took several strips, and began scraping off the green outside
skin with a shell from the beach nearby. Anea felt sleepy and to help
keep herself awake, she sang a song her father had taught her.
my tiny children laugh
my tiny children grow
playing in tall fields of flowers...
Her father used to make up songs and stories for her when she couldn't
sleep at night. In her mind, she saw once again the time when her father
fell asleep while telling her a story about a playful, magical monkey.
I remember this story, she said, and that's not how it goes. And she
told her father the rest of the story as he fell asleep.
In her mind, she heard her mother's voice: "Your father was always
dreaming and never working. Now he's dead and we have nothing."
She slapped herself on the face to wake herself up.
She took a wooden mallet and started pounding the white insides of the
bark so that it would flatten into a strip of cloth. Later, after the
cloth dried, she would paint it like her mother taught her.
Anea remembered how pleased her future husband looked when he first
saw the cloth she made, and how he took the cloth in his black and
calloused hands and touched it to his salt-wrinkled face. "My family,
and other people on the other islands, will give much for this," he said
to her mother.
She was starting to fall asleep, and so she started to sing again.
my tiny children laugh
my tiny children grow
playing in tall fields of flowers...
She couldn't remember the rest of the song. It felt like something that
happened a long time ago and she couldn't remember the words, exactly.
She thought about the cloth she had to finish by the end of the day.
Often, the kapa was still damp at nightfall, and then it had to be
brought inside and sometimes the delicate pieces would smear.
Anea straightened her aching shoulders and rubbed her eyes.
"I wish the day would last longer," she said.
Just then, a rooster flew next to her, and the rooster spoke with her
father's voice.
"If that is your wish, then I will help you," he said. He took a long
cord made of coconut fiber in his beak and he flew from one end of the
island to the other before returning to her side.
"Take this cord," he said, "and when the sun comes you must catch him
with it."
Anea was happy and eager as she waited in the darkness. She felt well
for the first time in weeks and she felt wide awake. When the first ray
of sunrise appeared, she pulled the cord and caught the sun.
The sun was furious and burned hot. He demanded that she set him free.
"You have to promise to go more slowly today so my kapa will dry. If my
kapa isn't dry, I won't have a dowry and my husband won't marry me,
and my mother will starve."
At that moment, she remembered the rest of her father's song. She made
another demand:
"Also, you have to promise that you won't burn as hot, or you'll kill
the young flowers."
When the sun realized that Anea could sacrifice herself for her mother
and yet still have compassion for even the smallest flowers of the island,
he fell in love with her.
"If that is your wish," he said, "then I will help you."
He vanished, leaving a blackness the in the sky, and reappeared next to
her as a man.
"Thank you," she said. She was happy he agreed, but she realized there
was something else in his eyes. A question.
She down looked at his chest, his legs. He was wholesome in a way that
her future husband was not. He looked strong and gentle, and that made
her smile before she could think.
She reached out and touched his cheek with her hand, felt the stubble
beneath her fingers. He let her explore his body, let her map the ridges
of muscle and bone with her light touch.
When he knew she was ready, they lay together and she opened her legs to
him. He entered her slowly and she felt a stab of pain that melted away,
and then she was full and warm inside. Her inner lips moistened him as
he slid into her again and again. Something, some instinct told her what
would happen -- when he came she laughed with joy at how right it felt.
When the sun reappeared in the sky, he moved slowly and gently as a man
sated with love.
Anea's cloth dried completely that afternoon and the next day she married.
Nine months later she gave birth to a child. The infant's skin was
golden. Her husband was furious, but there was nothing he could do.
He and his men eventually took over the island, but he feared that one
day the descendents of the golden-skinned infant would reclaim the island
for themselves.
The sun loved Anea for the rest of her days, and even after she died he
would sometimes disappear out of the sky to look for her. He remembered
his promise to her, and for six months of the year he would move slowly
across the sky so that the women of the island could dry their cloth,
and for the other six, he hurried so that the young flowers could grow
and flourish.
Many generations later, the descendents of the golden-skinned infant
placed a single giant stone at the site of her grave and carved her
story into the face of the rock.
my tiny children laugh
my tiny children grow
playing in tall fields of flowers
my children cry
my children weaken
tending fields of golden flowers
my children sleep
my children lie
buried under fields of young flowers
* * *
Julie was already waiting for him near the giant sundial. Even in the
early light of dawn, Tom Kuo could see that she had many more freckles
than she had when they first arrived on the island, and he knew that
even his own Chinese complexion had grown darker.
Julie stood motionless on the stone walkway. Her body weight was centered
over her right foot, precisely over an acupuncture point called "the
bubbling well." She held her arms in front of her in a gentle embrace.
Tom admired her discipline. His tai chi teacher had taught him that
standing meditation posture many years ago, but it was still very
difficult for him to stand that way for more than a few minutes.
She stood motionless for half an hour. And then, as the first rays of
the sun appeared in the sky, she began to move almost imperceptibly.
Her back relaxed forward and it seemed as if a great wave of molasses
flowed outward and carried her arms with it. A muscle in her hip relaxed
and caused her body to turn on an axis that went with mathematical
precision from the tip of her head straight down along her spine and
into the ground through the bubbling well point on her foot.
She changed from moment to moment, liquid swirls flowing around forms
of perfect geometry, but her body gave the illusion of being motionless
as the shadows of the stones. Sunlight broke into colors as it filtered
through the strands of her red hair.
Two decades ago, Tom had heard that the Wu style of tai chi she was
practicing was lost forever. He wondered where she learned it.
"Want to join me?" she asked.
Tom stood in front of her and let her place her hands on his arm.
He closed his eyes.
Her push felt like an ocean wave. The wave came at him so slowly he
didn't notice it at first, and by the time he did it was too late.
He knew he should turn like a matador dodging a bull, but his body
felt light, as if he were floating, and then the wave picked him up and
threw him. He stumbled backwards a few feet.
Tom opened his eyes and stepped up to Julie again.
"I'm out of practice," he said.
The last time Tom practiced was several months ago with Amy. He was
seeing Amy at the time. On that day, while they were practicing,
he told her that it's impossible to lie while doing the exercise.
Your body language would give it away instantly, he said. And then he
felt Amy's muscles freeze as she tried to hide from his touch. A few
questions later, the relationship was over.
"You know, it's impossible to lie while doing this," he said as he put
his hands on Julie's arm and pushed.
Pushing on Julie's arm felt like pushing a cork with a finger while it's
floating on water. She kept slipping away and coming back. She has
nothing to hide, he thought.
"Do you think I'm cute?" she asked.
Tom hesitated for just an instant, but that was enough for her to bounce
him like a basketball off the stone slab at his back.
She grinned.
He stepped up to her again, but this time he stood right next to her.
His right leg was between her thighs. As he pushed forward, his leg
brushed against her inner thigh. She quivered slightly, but managed to
slip away again.
Tom took a deep breath and closed his eyes again. He imagined that his
weight oozed down into the ground like water flowing into soil.
She leaned forward and pushed, and he felt her shorts slide down slightly
as it rubbed against his leg. He sank downward and her push flowed
above and around him. She missed.
He pushed back, and this time she took his hand and placed it on her
breast.
"I'm getting warm," she said. "Would you take off my shirt?"
Tom pulled her shirt up until it covered her head. She had small breasts
with tight nipples.
Julie swung her hips into his and knocked him off balance again.
"Gee, did I distract you, Tom?" She laughed and took off the rest of
her clothing.
"Alright, you asked for it," Tom said. He made a show of taking off
his shirt, and then his shorts and underwear as Julie watched wide-eyed.
"Hey, no wonder you keep losing. You're supposed to be soft and yielding
like water, but you're stiff," she said.
She took his penis in her hand and pushed and pulled gently.
He stood up next to her, fitted his hips into hers, and entered her.
She rocked back and forth, pushing very, very gently, and held her arms
around him.
After a few minutes, Tom felt her tense up ever so slightly; and then she
came suddenly, jolts shooting up and down her body, hands clenching and
unclenching, legs thrusting her hips into his. Tom grabbed her around
the waist and held her against him as he came into her.
They stayed that way, limp and spent, holding each other and rocking
back and forth, pushing ever so slightly.
* * *
"Where did you learn tai chi?" Tom asked.
Julie told him that her father was very religious. Her father took her
from temple to temple, from monestary to monestary, across China and
India and Tibet. She had learned tai chi when they stayed in China.
She almost told him that she learned about the legends of the sundial,
but instead she got up and pulled on her shirt.
Tom watched her as she started to put her clothing back on. Her red
hair was sweaty and tangled and he wanted to ask her for a few long
strands to remember her by.
Instead, he asked her another question: "Why do you stay with your father?
Don't you wish you had a place that felt like home?"
"Because I don't know what else to do, and besides, he needs me," she
said, wobbling slightly as she put on her sock. She hopped to regain
her balance, then put on her sneaker.
She knew that was not the entire truth. Her father would be furious
when he found out she got pregnant. He would tell her to leave him and
never return, but it would break his heart.
Her son would have light-gold skin.
Tom Kuo pretended not to see her lose her balance. He noticed that the
shadow of the center pillar had already moved past the first stone.
Copyright (C) 1998 by Thomas M. Carvett
Many thanks to the readers and writers who gave me encouragement and
told me what worked in my stories and what didn't -- you've made me
a better writer. I'm always happy to hear comments and constructive
criticism, or just plain friendly hellos.
"Ask Me Anything" http://home.earthlink.net/~tcarvett/ask.txt
"Hope" http://home.earthlink.net/~tcarvett/hope.txt
"The Orgasm" http://home.earthlink.net/~tcarvett/orgasm.txt
tcarvett@earthlink.net http://home.earthlink.net/~tcarvett
$TMC_VERSION:sundial.txt@2.17/home/tcarvett/arc/writing%aphasia$
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