Wednesday, August 03, 2005

Water

Tiger
Trim
Tangled up in blue
Barrister
Polka dots




He felt like the Ancient Mariner. Water, water everywhere and nary a drop to drink. How had he come to be in this predicament? He stumbled through the jungle - a great riot of growth with green upon green upon green. At the lowest level were mosses and fungi and vines. Next came powerful palms and grasses and philodendrons. Then trees. And trees on top of that - full-sized trees growing in the tops of full-sized trees. Glancing up into one of the rare bursts of sunlight, he had once caught sight of what looked like an orchid - a small burst of white and yellow tangled up in blue. But that could have simply been an illusion. He was thirsty. God, was he thirsty. He stumbled, caught himself. Huge fronds loomed in front of him. The fronds probably held some water, cupped like some great, green alien hand beckoning for him to sip of it. But he feared the water there - feared the little bugs that might live there. He remembered a tale he'd read in his youth, Likundu? Likundo? Something like that. About some man, deep in the jungles of somewhere, afflicted with some horrible parasite, something that made great carbuncles appear on his flesh, knots that swelled like huge blackheads until finally a very real, tiny human head popped out - a small black, pygmy head, yammering in some strange tongue. The man, feverish and from all appearances dying, kept cutting them off and putting them in a small chest. Tankersly was certain that if he drank the water from the large fronds he would develop Likundu. Or worse.

It had been three hours or so since he saw the tiger. He had to keep going.

How had this all started? How does an esteemed barrister from Boston, a slim, trim, mover-and-shaker find himself deep in the Congo, dehydrated, hungry and running for his life from a terrifying carnivore? These things don't happen to civilized people. These things don't happen to attorneys from Boston for Christ sake! Tankersly fought his way through the thicket of growth. He had no real sense of direction - never had, really. he wasn't sure what good it would do him to know east from north at this point. He just knew he had to keep moving - to run until he found something - anything that looked like civilization. Or be eaten. Suddenly, and with so little warning he tumbled and fell, Tankersly burst into a clearing. He found himself sprawled on a mossy carpet staring up at the sky. He sat up, rubbed his glasses on his shirt tail and caught his breath for a moment. He was dizzy from falling, from lack of water, from running from the tiger. Stars swam before his eyes. He closed his eyes tightly and saw huge purple polka dots. Tyger tyger, burning bright. He opened his eyes and looked around.

He was in a clearing about the size of two football fields in the center of which was what looked to be the remains of an ancient temple. The structure appeared to be about 50 feet across, square at the base, and tapering to a dull point about 90 feet up. On each face of the "tower," for lack of a better word, was a huge, Africanized human face, mouth open in a perfect "O." Tankersly rubbed his eyes underneath his glasses and looked more closely as he wandered over to the tower. Out of each of the mouths poured what looked like perfectly clear, clean, cool water! The water ran into perfectly circular pool around the tower - a mote of sorts - and stepping stones lead over to where the water poured out. Beneath the chin of each face, almost obscured by a tangle of mossy vines, a door led in. Tankersly had read enough stories and seen enough movies to know that the stepping stones and doors were traps. They would doubtless lead to some gruesome death - darts, spears that shot out of the walls, a great blade that sliced one lengthwise. Who knew what the form would be - but most certainly the paths led to death.

Off in the jungle, he heard the unmistakable low rumbling growl of a tiger.

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