Topic: Being Found

Author: Chris Dunn

“Hello,” he had said, and language burst into her mind coloring all time with its net of meaning and structure. Suddenly, she knew many things that before she hadn’t cared about, or if she had occasion to care, she had lacked the terms to express it. Before language there was only the two: wonder-fear and pain-dislike, but this … man, he was. This man, had brought shape to her time and now she knew many things, things more concrete and certain than ever before. First and foremost in what she now knew, was that this word he had used was a greeting, a greeting that called for a response.

“Hello…”

His faced curled at the sides; a smile it was. He was happy-amused at her response, though her new knowledge of language did not explain why. She had not meant to be funny, nor did she even know how.

“Are you okay?” he asked. The thing they called a hand extended slowly towards her. She took it noting that his fingers – a part of the hand – were sheathed in steel while hers were not. In fact, his whole body was armored, a gold helmet sitting atop his gilded plate. In contrast, her diaphanous garments were insubstantial. Reflexively she stiffened her fingers as she took the offered appendage. She had fingers too! And hands, of course followed. She did not recall choosing this form or this place, and panic rose for a moment. Panic was new. It was like pain-dislike that she could not run from. Was this man a creator? Was she held within his spell? No, she knew that wasn’t correct, but he was important to her. Her mother had wanted her here, for him, and the others…

“Yes,” she said. Again the amused smile. She held his gaze trying to reason out why her answers were in some form inadequate, while at the same time searching through the dreamlike wandering that had led her here. So much to see, to take in, to comprehend. The swirling oneness of her home did not have these solid structures, these moving things which she now knew were life, separate living creatures, as she was now too. That was new too. She was solid, immutable. Though her skin could stiffen to protect itself from pain-dislike, she had lacked so much as she wandered this strange world. It was slow, hard, unyielding, full of spikes and sharp edges.

“Okay… I’ll try again.” He helped her to her feet. Though she hadn’t chose to stand, he was strong, and conforming made the most sense. She had legs too! He was controlling her, but not in the way of a creator. “What are you doing here? Are you lost?”

“No,” she said, but she saw this direct response would also be inadequate and continued. “I was walking in the woods. I like the trees.” Now he openly laughed. This stung, a bit, and she snatched her hand back.

“Easy now. I’m not going to hurt you.” It was her turn to scoff. He couldn’t hurt her. If he was not the creator of this space - as he clearly wasn’t - he was as much a subject as she was. And… something less. She knew him! From long before, when she had been so much older, she had found him lost, crying in the woods. A different woods, far away, but the same man though in a younger, smaller form. That was why she was here. To find him and the others, to learn them and then steer them. Her mother, Nyrissa commanded it. She was the creator and her name was never to be said aloud.

“You cried,” she told him. “I saw you crying in the garden when you were small.”

“What?” The man seemed a mixture of incredulous and insulted. “I don’t think that was me, lady. My name is Kelvin. I’m on an adventure with some friends. Would you like to meet them? Come on. They’re right over here.”

He reached to grab her again, but did not press the issue when she withdrew from his hands. She nodded for him to lead on, and he did. Moving to follow, she was reminded that here she could not fly. Here, she was stuck in this single form. Here, she was shut off from her true power.

“That’s it,” he coaxed. “Don’t be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid.” There was no need to be scared. This was where she was supposed to be. Her mother had placed her here to be found by just these people. In her mind she could already see the others, so familiar…

“Good, good. Do you have a name?”

That was a good question. Here in the static realm of the living, things – people – had names. It came to her in a flash, “Belleria.”