Kshpira
The clay squished and formed between her toes, cooling her hardened feet. Adrina lived closer to the river than most of the villagers. Her trance at the subtle blue was obstructed by her dark auburn hair, moved by the east wind. She felt fed by the light that bounced off the waters and filled her home. The banks of this water were her playmate as a child. Her memories of that time were of nothing more then the feel of clay between her fingers and gazing into her father’s joyful brown eyes. Now that he had left her, she imagined him as part of the ground. He was part of the clay.
In her old age, Adrina’s mother had become an evaporating image that was sad yet somehow natural to watch. They lived in the dwelling of cool wood that their supporter had built, and Adrina kept them fed with the skills he had left her. Behind the house, under an awning sat the perfectly balanced potter’s wheel. The wood on the base was smooth from years of polish, and the kick was strong with the indentation of the foot resting easily with it. This old wheel had always been perfectly balanced and never needed calibration. Her father had told her that each night after he cleaned up the river goddess would flow from her comfort and make sure his wheel was perfect for the next days work. He explained that the goddess and himself needed each other. “How else would the villagers carry her water to their homes? Without my vessels the water and this river would not be part of their lives, and the goddess of the river would lose her purpose and power.” She enjoyed the stories as a child but understood them only as folk lore as an adult. Her own children would hear the stories, if she could remember them. His voice and stories were harder for her to remember as each day added itself to the whole of time.
Adrina sat long hours with her legs wrapped around the wheel watching shadows growing longer as her back would grow tight. Every house in the village filled their kitchens and fires with her work. The elders could not tell her bowls apart from her father’s, yet her cups had what some called a woman’s flair.
“This one is perfect,” she thought, as she laid a newly made cup out in the sun to dry. She looked out into the yard stretching her arms high in the sun and feeling satisfied about her morning’s work. She viewed the line of bowls like vegetable children ready for harvest. Bringing her hands down she investigated how much clay had splattered not on her gray apron but escaped onto her blue dress. Dots were scattered within each fold of fabric that lay on her thigh.
“Mother?” There was no answer from within. She moved into the house from the door frame and called out again. Giving up on her voice, she made sticky foot prints as she climbed the stairs in search of her mother. Adrina found her in her yellow room, which she hardly ever left.
“Mother?” She did not flinch from her gaze out the window that faced the river. Adrina kneeled at her feet with a hand on her knee, praying somewhere deep inside of her that human contact would keep her in this life a day longer. “I’m going to walk along the river and then have a bath. Will you be all right while I am gone?” Her mother turned, and smiled at her daughter realizing she was there. As soon as her smile was finished, with no words, returned her glazed eyes to the window. Adrina kissed her mother’s forehead and cheek and left the house.
The familiar path paralleled the river and curled through the tree., Adrina considered it her own. Over the past ten years, she had known of no other feet to have touched it. The path served only her purpose, and it had always greeted her as a friend.
Today the path seemed swifter than ever before, and her feet carried her head in a playful pace. Trees were in bloom and bearing their fruits and ahead she expected the smell of wild peaches. The waters flowed slower and the sounds grew calmer the further she traveled into the woods. She lifted up her dress and crossed the shallow rocks that signaled her favorite deep waters to bath in. She laid her hand on the tree she had known through all seasons. She loved its yellow leaves in the fall, but always anticipated spring and the peaches a little more. She plucked a peach that was right in her eye line and after a quick inspection proceeded to chomp on its sweet flesh.
Scooping the fresh water into her hand, she cleaned away the juice on her chin. Grabbing for her recently discarded clothes she ran them under the water, releasing the dried clay back to water. As she dipped her own body into the water, she looked back to her lifeless clothes hanging off the tree. Her movement hardly caused a ripple. Her father had always told her she was like the river when he stared into her deep blue eyes. She floated there naked thinking about tomorrow’s market day in the village. Though selling her pots was the only way she raised funds to keep herself and her mother fed, she detested lugging her cart to the square. With the cups fitting inside of each other they would rub coarsely, causing a painful sound to her ears. Adrina felt like the agonizing sounds were the little pleas of her children not to be sold, promising they would behave if she did not sell them. Putting this out of her mind she plunged once again into the water.
The taste of air was sweet when she lifted her head from the waters. She could feel every muscle in her body let go and be held by the blue. She stared at the trees, the sound of the birds and wind could no longer be heard. Her toes brushed against the smooth rocks that she could not see at the bottom. Walking aimlessly, she felt the surface change under her toes. It was no longer hard stone, nor the soft mud of the banks. Puzzled by this new sensation she was suddenly thrown backwards as the river floor raised. Gasping for air and understanding, she pushed her mangled hair out her face just in time to see the skin of a large crocodile rise to the surface of the river.
The guttural sound of the beast sent adrenaline to her heart and caused her feet to move. Franticly turning, she used all of her limbs to move the water to give her speed. Behind her she could see flashes of disturbed water, green scales, and yellow eyes chasing her with fervid diligence. Just as the harsh sounds of the beast were surely about to overtake her came the sound of a mighty water and a wave that threw Adrina onto the mucky shore.
“I am the goddess of this river.”
Adrina raised her body with her arms but lacked the strength to face the powerful voice.
“My name is Kshipra, I am the goddess of this river. You are the potter Adrina. I have watched you since birth, and I have saved you now from one of the beasts that lives within me. Can you not look upon your savior?”
Trembling, and still naked, Adrina turned to face the river. Her eyes met the shining faces of the goddess Kshpira. Her body was made of sparkling water in the form of a flowing full dress, with its hem dangling just above the water. Gazing up she saw six distinctively different heads with the same apple red hair. Each face smiled with its own set of lips and eyes concerned for the girl shaking with fear on the land.
Behind the clear water of the dress Adrina could see the crocodile thrashing on the other side. He would throw his body against the water force that would not budge; she could still see the anger in his yellow eyes. She looked wide-eyed again at the six heads and found her words.
“Please dear god don’t hurt me!” She wailed and covered her head.
“Now dear child, what would be the point of saving you if I wanted to hurt you. And I know it is a small point, but dear, I am a goddess, not a god.” All words were said in a comforting tone but the sound enveloped her from the multiple heads. As she spoke the dress formed a tentacle that whipped the groaning creature away like it was a fly. The crocodile lay on the land lifeless, either dead or unconscious. Adrina gawked at Kshpira as the goddess reclined on top of the water.
Adrina became aware of her own nakedness and tried to cover herself. Noticing this, Kshpira handed her clothes to her from the tree. Adrina’s eyes didn’t leave the goddess’s as she pulled her dress over her head and stood before her. The falling sunlight looked miraculous shining through the watery dress. Her beauty captivated Adrina for what seemed like hours. She spent time making eye contact with each set of eyes. Though similar each face was a different race, displayed upon her shoulders like a bouquet of humanity.
“Thank you.” Adrina managed to say while still entranced by the light and water.
“You’re welcome.” Kshpira leaned forward. “I saved you for a reason. Would you like to know what it is?”
“Yes.” Adrina could hardly breathe and did not know from where she got the strength to speak.
“I saved you because I need you to make me something. My power is confined to the banks on which you stand. My source is needed in so many places, they cry out to me. Places of drought cry out to me in need. Now I need you to make me a vessel as large as your peach tree over there. I will use your crafted vessel of clay to gather myself up and fly among the clouds to a place of famine and be opened to them as a gift from heaven. The plenty will be for all.” At this, the goddess lifted her hands to the sky and all the heads looked up.
“Me? I don’t understand.” Her eyebrows furrowed. “You’re a goddess and- well, I am human. You could make whatever you wanted.”
“Yes, but I want to see you do it.”
The puzzled look did not move from Adrina’s face. When she was about to voice further objections the goddess commanded, “You have understood me. Go home to your mother and dream of me tonight.”
Adrina’s feet set her flying, running hard and fast. She hardly felt the hard ground and the pain of her bare feet breaking twigs with each step.
The next day at the market the reality of the previous day’s events seemed to bend. Adrina found it harder than usual to make small talk with those in the market. Her eyes would glass over with her brain consumed in thought.
“Are you okay Adrina? You look like you are concentrating awful hard.” Nathanial’s voice snapped her back into reality.
“Oh, hey, yeah. I’m sorry I just had the strangest dream last night. I think it was a dream.”
“Was it about me?” He asked in a playful tone that Adrina had always thought was too forward but which made his green eyes sparkle.
“No. It was about…about… Well I’m not sure what it was about. I remember water. I wish I could remember”
“Well, I don’t know about your dream but the bowls you have brought this week look fantastic.”
“You always say that.”
“Well, they are always fantastic, so I always have to say that. I think I might just have to have one.” His boney hand ran over the yellow glazed works and picked up the one she considered her best on the cart. He always seemed to know which ones she had put the most work into.
“I’ll take this one for our usual price.” From the fold of his cloak pocket he retrieved the familiar small burlap bag. It was tied with a course string and a hard knot that would take her hours to pick at if she did not cut it. This had been their arrangement for the past couple of seasons. Nathanial had an herbal garden and sold his plants to the local medicine men and grandmas that believed in their potency. Adrina had discovered years back that his smoking weed cured whatever ailed her. He would give her a bag each week and she would give him a pot. By now he must have enough of her pieces to feed everyone in the village at one time.
Picking up the bag and feeling this week’s weight, she turned to him and exclaimed, “Nathanial! This is way too much for that simple bowl. I insist you take some of this back. I could never smoke this much anyway.”
“No, no, keep it you look like you have had a hard week. I wish you would let me help you lug your cart to and from your house. You look tired.”
“Well thanks,” she said. “I’m glad I look tired to you!”
“I didn’t mean it that way! I just meant.. I mean…” His voice changed from the high defensive to low and meaningful, “I just wish you would let me help you.”
At this his eyes shot down, she smiled knowing his intentions. He looked at her tentatively as she smiled enough to show her appreciation of the gesture, but still not enough to give him hope. She watched his tall body walk away from her, his jet black hair shining in the sun; Adrina wondered why she feared him. Something behind his eyes was strange; something behind his face was dark.
Adrina always savored the breakfast after market day. All the goods she got the day before were fresh and tasted how they should. The end of the week never tasted as good. This morning her fruit was too soft and her milk about to sour. Across the table she stared at her mother as she quietly ate her eggs with one hand on the fork and the other pleasantly in her lap. The morning bird outside the window beckoned her to work. She gulped the last bit of her drink from her mug and kissed her mother as she trotted outside to her satisfying solitary work.
With the power of her foot the wheel started turning and gathered up speed. She gracefully cupped her hands around the clay and begged it to move. She poured water and the clay shined and obeyed. Gradually she saw the sphere, which is the start of each creation, appear between her fingers. Releasing the clay she watched the ball spin off tilt and become un-centered. The wheel made an off beat thumping noise as she gritted her teeth in frustration. She angrily ripped the clay from the moving wheel and threw it at the nearest tree with a cry of frustration. She blocked out the world with her hands and screamed inside her head. Why have I not been able to throw all week? This frustration was new to her. Her craft had always come so natural and easy. Looking up at the yard, she saw the few off center pieces laying in the yard begging to be broken, to be put out of their off tilt misery. On the other side of the fire sat only three unsatisfying bowls from her week’s work. She sighed and sprang to the woods.
As she let the smoke from the pipe expel from her lips she became conscious that today was the traditional day for her bath. Her own body smell would not be covered up by the smoke and the clay on her dress was caked and dry. Her back was stiff against an oak and felt no motivation to move. She could not bring herself to her friend the river all week. The trees and Nathanial’s herb had become her new friends. The smoke asked nothing of her, and the trees did not spring to life demanding impossible gifts. She thought about the rapidly emptying cupboard at home and what she would put on her cart tomorrow as she filled her father’s pipe again with the last of Nathanial’s herbs.
Adrina knew that if she went to Nathanial for help, he would expect more for the favor than she was willing to give up. She could make it on her own, stuck between the village and the river. The stingy serving of solitary bread that Adrina had been feeding her mother for the past couple of weeks did not seem to faze her. She ate in the same manner and asked nothing of her daughter who now ate nothing. The wheel had become so off center that it had become a useless piece of wood and Adrina had stopped trying. She now spent most of her days in the forest sitting and smelling the taunting peach trees by the river. Her afternoons where spent in useless rest and strange dreams of hunger. She longed for water but would not bring herself to walk the path to food. She even flinched at the cups of water she silently drew from the river for her mother. Each time she woke up, startling herself with the terrifying possibility that the dream, she now remembered, was real. Why did every thing around her ask her for submission? “Must I be obedient to a river I don’t understand?” Her father’s voice was on a distant wind, but she could not comprehend its content.
Nathanial finally traveled to her house. The shape of his body was outlined in the very last light of dusk as he walked towards her. She could feel how sunken in her face was when he looked at her. She felt frail and vapid. His hand reached for her face. She looked at him for a moment and then fainted away.
Her eyes fluttered to see a room she did not know, yet the familiar sounds of the village. Nathanial would come and go with bowls of food, and she would wake to smells of herbs being burned in small heap on the table next to what she assumed was his bed.
On the second day that she woke at Nathanial’s house, she had every intention and strength to leave. She tipped through the kitchen with a soft bag she filled with food that she could hardly see in the dim light of morning. As she tied the bag she was startled to see his body in the door way.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to wake you up. I hope you don’t mind, I am taking a few things back to my mother.”
He said nothing as he drank her in.
“I’m thankful for all you’ve done but I must go home now my mother.”
“Stay.” His voice was raspy and desperate.
“I can’t. Mother must be scared, confused, and hungry. She depends on me I have to go home.” She could not get the words out fast enough.
“Fine,” he slowly approached her. “We’ll go to your house together and get your mother and your things and bring them back here. There is room enough for all of us.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?” His outburst shocked even himself and disturbed the stillness of the morning.
“You know I can’t. I won’t.”
Controlling the words on the tip of his tongue he approached her like his farming ox. In soft words and slow movements he drew closer. “You will die without me. How are you going to feed your mother and yourself? You have lost your talent. Move to my house. You can try to make pots again if you wish. But in the mean time I could take care of you.”
She refused to listen, turning her back to his.
He coaxed her, “I will take care of you and your mother. You can be mine.” At these words he wrapped his arms around her. She pushed at his arms, which only made him hold tighter. She wiggled for freedom, but he forced her to face him. His eyes had almost changed color in the soft light and he intently looked upon the thing he desired and would wait for no longer. She pressed away, and he held her firm.
“Let go,” she groaned. He only held her tighter, but she refused to give in. “Let go!” Tiredness and weakness broke within her throat. “I refuse to be owned! Not by you or any force!”
He freed one of her hand so that he could touch her lower; but she used the free hand to slap him. His cheeks twitched and then turned into a broad smile. He forced his lips on hers and would not release. He did not respond as she shoved with her hands but pulled away when she bit his lip. Blood trickled lightly from the corner of his lips. Adrina smirked in satisfaction. Nathanial brought his hands to his face to inspect what damage she had done. As soon as he let go of her hands, she was gone.
She ran. The river had disowned her, friends had turned to foe, and her independent strength was failing her. Her feet brought her towards her mother and the river. Tears stayed but for a moment on her cheek as they were swept away by the wind. Without stopping, she dropped the bag of food at her door and ran for the river. She galloped into the spraying water and caused a loud disturbance in the water.
Reaching the middle, she screamed. At first, it was an incomprehensible babble of anger and fear. It slowly turned to words, “Show yourself great goddess of my dreams! I demand you show yourself!”
Turning franticly in each direction she looked for an answer. When nothing happened her knees bent in defeat. Kneeling in the river, she sobbed and then screamed upwards in the pain of brokenness.
“I just can’t do this on my own.” The words were unintelligible as she reasoned, “How can you expect me to make you a great gift and continue to live if you ruin my wheel? I need you. I will work for your purpose.” She breathed out all the toxins she had created in the last weeks and breathed in fresh air.
With her head down she heard the rushing sound of water from a distance. She looked up to the river bend as the sound grew louder. A flood wall of water and goddess was barreling towards her. Her eyes became wide as water flooded over her and Kshpira engulfed her. She surfaced to see the waters had reached the foot of her door and stopped; her wheel could not be seen under the water.
Adrina stood knee deep and watched the waters recede and her wheel emerge slowly from the water. In her soaked through clothes she sat down with a small lump of clay. The wheel turned, her hands formed; the emptiness emerged from the whole. She pushed and created nothingness that defined the walls of purpose. The bowl formed easily and stretched further than the small amount of clay should. The goddess was moving from within her, using her. Before her sat a humongous perfectly balanced bowl that she was sure her whole body could fit in. The wind blew with an almighty force and dried her new creation. With unbelievable ease, she lifted the creation and brought it to the rivers edge. Gently she allowed the current to carry away the vessel. It turned and glided like a leaf upon the water. The wave pushed it up gradually to the wind. She watched it float until it ascended completely out of sight.
Adrina sat with her feet in the river for the rest of the day. Her life was back in balance. She watched her feet blend with the blues of the now soft current. Through the light, her feet looked like the same blue of the water. You could not tell where one began or the other ended; they became a part of each other.
In her old age, Adrina’s mother had become an evaporating image that was sad yet somehow natural to watch. They lived in the dwelling of cool wood that their supporter had built, and Adrina kept them fed with the skills he had left her. Behind the house, under an awning sat the perfectly balanced potter’s wheel. The wood on the base was smooth from years of polish, and the kick was strong with the indentation of the foot resting easily with it. This old wheel had always been perfectly balanced and never needed calibration. Her father had told her that each night after he cleaned up the river goddess would flow from her comfort and make sure his wheel was perfect for the next days work. He explained that the goddess and himself needed each other. “How else would the villagers carry her water to their homes? Without my vessels the water and this river would not be part of their lives, and the goddess of the river would lose her purpose and power.” She enjoyed the stories as a child but understood them only as folk lore as an adult. Her own children would hear the stories, if she could remember them. His voice and stories were harder for her to remember as each day added itself to the whole of time.
Adrina sat long hours with her legs wrapped around the wheel watching shadows growing longer as her back would grow tight. Every house in the village filled their kitchens and fires with her work. The elders could not tell her bowls apart from her father’s, yet her cups had what some called a woman’s flair.
“This one is perfect,” she thought, as she laid a newly made cup out in the sun to dry. She looked out into the yard stretching her arms high in the sun and feeling satisfied about her morning’s work. She viewed the line of bowls like vegetable children ready for harvest. Bringing her hands down she investigated how much clay had splattered not on her gray apron but escaped onto her blue dress. Dots were scattered within each fold of fabric that lay on her thigh.
“Mother?” There was no answer from within. She moved into the house from the door frame and called out again. Giving up on her voice, she made sticky foot prints as she climbed the stairs in search of her mother. Adrina found her in her yellow room, which she hardly ever left.
“Mother?” She did not flinch from her gaze out the window that faced the river. Adrina kneeled at her feet with a hand on her knee, praying somewhere deep inside of her that human contact would keep her in this life a day longer. “I’m going to walk along the river and then have a bath. Will you be all right while I am gone?” Her mother turned, and smiled at her daughter realizing she was there. As soon as her smile was finished, with no words, returned her glazed eyes to the window. Adrina kissed her mother’s forehead and cheek and left the house.
The familiar path paralleled the river and curled through the tree., Adrina considered it her own. Over the past ten years, she had known of no other feet to have touched it. The path served only her purpose, and it had always greeted her as a friend.
Today the path seemed swifter than ever before, and her feet carried her head in a playful pace. Trees were in bloom and bearing their fruits and ahead she expected the smell of wild peaches. The waters flowed slower and the sounds grew calmer the further she traveled into the woods. She lifted up her dress and crossed the shallow rocks that signaled her favorite deep waters to bath in. She laid her hand on the tree she had known through all seasons. She loved its yellow leaves in the fall, but always anticipated spring and the peaches a little more. She plucked a peach that was right in her eye line and after a quick inspection proceeded to chomp on its sweet flesh.
Scooping the fresh water into her hand, she cleaned away the juice on her chin. Grabbing for her recently discarded clothes she ran them under the water, releasing the dried clay back to water. As she dipped her own body into the water, she looked back to her lifeless clothes hanging off the tree. Her movement hardly caused a ripple. Her father had always told her she was like the river when he stared into her deep blue eyes. She floated there naked thinking about tomorrow’s market day in the village. Though selling her pots was the only way she raised funds to keep herself and her mother fed, she detested lugging her cart to the square. With the cups fitting inside of each other they would rub coarsely, causing a painful sound to her ears. Adrina felt like the agonizing sounds were the little pleas of her children not to be sold, promising they would behave if she did not sell them. Putting this out of her mind she plunged once again into the water.
The taste of air was sweet when she lifted her head from the waters. She could feel every muscle in her body let go and be held by the blue. She stared at the trees, the sound of the birds and wind could no longer be heard. Her toes brushed against the smooth rocks that she could not see at the bottom. Walking aimlessly, she felt the surface change under her toes. It was no longer hard stone, nor the soft mud of the banks. Puzzled by this new sensation she was suddenly thrown backwards as the river floor raised. Gasping for air and understanding, she pushed her mangled hair out her face just in time to see the skin of a large crocodile rise to the surface of the river.
The guttural sound of the beast sent adrenaline to her heart and caused her feet to move. Franticly turning, she used all of her limbs to move the water to give her speed. Behind her she could see flashes of disturbed water, green scales, and yellow eyes chasing her with fervid diligence. Just as the harsh sounds of the beast were surely about to overtake her came the sound of a mighty water and a wave that threw Adrina onto the mucky shore.
“I am the goddess of this river.”
Adrina raised her body with her arms but lacked the strength to face the powerful voice.
“My name is Kshipra, I am the goddess of this river. You are the potter Adrina. I have watched you since birth, and I have saved you now from one of the beasts that lives within me. Can you not look upon your savior?”
Trembling, and still naked, Adrina turned to face the river. Her eyes met the shining faces of the goddess Kshpira. Her body was made of sparkling water in the form of a flowing full dress, with its hem dangling just above the water. Gazing up she saw six distinctively different heads with the same apple red hair. Each face smiled with its own set of lips and eyes concerned for the girl shaking with fear on the land.
Behind the clear water of the dress Adrina could see the crocodile thrashing on the other side. He would throw his body against the water force that would not budge; she could still see the anger in his yellow eyes. She looked wide-eyed again at the six heads and found her words.
“Please dear god don’t hurt me!” She wailed and covered her head.
“Now dear child, what would be the point of saving you if I wanted to hurt you. And I know it is a small point, but dear, I am a goddess, not a god.” All words were said in a comforting tone but the sound enveloped her from the multiple heads. As she spoke the dress formed a tentacle that whipped the groaning creature away like it was a fly. The crocodile lay on the land lifeless, either dead or unconscious. Adrina gawked at Kshpira as the goddess reclined on top of the water.
Adrina became aware of her own nakedness and tried to cover herself. Noticing this, Kshpira handed her clothes to her from the tree. Adrina’s eyes didn’t leave the goddess’s as she pulled her dress over her head and stood before her. The falling sunlight looked miraculous shining through the watery dress. Her beauty captivated Adrina for what seemed like hours. She spent time making eye contact with each set of eyes. Though similar each face was a different race, displayed upon her shoulders like a bouquet of humanity.
“Thank you.” Adrina managed to say while still entranced by the light and water.
“You’re welcome.” Kshpira leaned forward. “I saved you for a reason. Would you like to know what it is?”
“Yes.” Adrina could hardly breathe and did not know from where she got the strength to speak.
“I saved you because I need you to make me something. My power is confined to the banks on which you stand. My source is needed in so many places, they cry out to me. Places of drought cry out to me in need. Now I need you to make me a vessel as large as your peach tree over there. I will use your crafted vessel of clay to gather myself up and fly among the clouds to a place of famine and be opened to them as a gift from heaven. The plenty will be for all.” At this, the goddess lifted her hands to the sky and all the heads looked up.
“Me? I don’t understand.” Her eyebrows furrowed. “You’re a goddess and- well, I am human. You could make whatever you wanted.”
“Yes, but I want to see you do it.”
The puzzled look did not move from Adrina’s face. When she was about to voice further objections the goddess commanded, “You have understood me. Go home to your mother and dream of me tonight.”
Adrina’s feet set her flying, running hard and fast. She hardly felt the hard ground and the pain of her bare feet breaking twigs with each step.
The next day at the market the reality of the previous day’s events seemed to bend. Adrina found it harder than usual to make small talk with those in the market. Her eyes would glass over with her brain consumed in thought.
“Are you okay Adrina? You look like you are concentrating awful hard.” Nathanial’s voice snapped her back into reality.
“Oh, hey, yeah. I’m sorry I just had the strangest dream last night. I think it was a dream.”
“Was it about me?” He asked in a playful tone that Adrina had always thought was too forward but which made his green eyes sparkle.
“No. It was about…about… Well I’m not sure what it was about. I remember water. I wish I could remember”
“Well, I don’t know about your dream but the bowls you have brought this week look fantastic.”
“You always say that.”
“Well, they are always fantastic, so I always have to say that. I think I might just have to have one.” His boney hand ran over the yellow glazed works and picked up the one she considered her best on the cart. He always seemed to know which ones she had put the most work into.
“I’ll take this one for our usual price.” From the fold of his cloak pocket he retrieved the familiar small burlap bag. It was tied with a course string and a hard knot that would take her hours to pick at if she did not cut it. This had been their arrangement for the past couple of seasons. Nathanial had an herbal garden and sold his plants to the local medicine men and grandmas that believed in their potency. Adrina had discovered years back that his smoking weed cured whatever ailed her. He would give her a bag each week and she would give him a pot. By now he must have enough of her pieces to feed everyone in the village at one time.
Picking up the bag and feeling this week’s weight, she turned to him and exclaimed, “Nathanial! This is way too much for that simple bowl. I insist you take some of this back. I could never smoke this much anyway.”
“No, no, keep it you look like you have had a hard week. I wish you would let me help you lug your cart to and from your house. You look tired.”
“Well thanks,” she said. “I’m glad I look tired to you!”
“I didn’t mean it that way! I just meant.. I mean…” His voice changed from the high defensive to low and meaningful, “I just wish you would let me help you.”
At this his eyes shot down, she smiled knowing his intentions. He looked at her tentatively as she smiled enough to show her appreciation of the gesture, but still not enough to give him hope. She watched his tall body walk away from her, his jet black hair shining in the sun; Adrina wondered why she feared him. Something behind his eyes was strange; something behind his face was dark.
Adrina always savored the breakfast after market day. All the goods she got the day before were fresh and tasted how they should. The end of the week never tasted as good. This morning her fruit was too soft and her milk about to sour. Across the table she stared at her mother as she quietly ate her eggs with one hand on the fork and the other pleasantly in her lap. The morning bird outside the window beckoned her to work. She gulped the last bit of her drink from her mug and kissed her mother as she trotted outside to her satisfying solitary work.
With the power of her foot the wheel started turning and gathered up speed. She gracefully cupped her hands around the clay and begged it to move. She poured water and the clay shined and obeyed. Gradually she saw the sphere, which is the start of each creation, appear between her fingers. Releasing the clay she watched the ball spin off tilt and become un-centered. The wheel made an off beat thumping noise as she gritted her teeth in frustration. She angrily ripped the clay from the moving wheel and threw it at the nearest tree with a cry of frustration. She blocked out the world with her hands and screamed inside her head. Why have I not been able to throw all week? This frustration was new to her. Her craft had always come so natural and easy. Looking up at the yard, she saw the few off center pieces laying in the yard begging to be broken, to be put out of their off tilt misery. On the other side of the fire sat only three unsatisfying bowls from her week’s work. She sighed and sprang to the woods.
As she let the smoke from the pipe expel from her lips she became conscious that today was the traditional day for her bath. Her own body smell would not be covered up by the smoke and the clay on her dress was caked and dry. Her back was stiff against an oak and felt no motivation to move. She could not bring herself to her friend the river all week. The trees and Nathanial’s herb had become her new friends. The smoke asked nothing of her, and the trees did not spring to life demanding impossible gifts. She thought about the rapidly emptying cupboard at home and what she would put on her cart tomorrow as she filled her father’s pipe again with the last of Nathanial’s herbs.
Adrina knew that if she went to Nathanial for help, he would expect more for the favor than she was willing to give up. She could make it on her own, stuck between the village and the river. The stingy serving of solitary bread that Adrina had been feeding her mother for the past couple of weeks did not seem to faze her. She ate in the same manner and asked nothing of her daughter who now ate nothing. The wheel had become so off center that it had become a useless piece of wood and Adrina had stopped trying. She now spent most of her days in the forest sitting and smelling the taunting peach trees by the river. Her afternoons where spent in useless rest and strange dreams of hunger. She longed for water but would not bring herself to walk the path to food. She even flinched at the cups of water she silently drew from the river for her mother. Each time she woke up, startling herself with the terrifying possibility that the dream, she now remembered, was real. Why did every thing around her ask her for submission? “Must I be obedient to a river I don’t understand?” Her father’s voice was on a distant wind, but she could not comprehend its content.
Nathanial finally traveled to her house. The shape of his body was outlined in the very last light of dusk as he walked towards her. She could feel how sunken in her face was when he looked at her. She felt frail and vapid. His hand reached for her face. She looked at him for a moment and then fainted away.
Her eyes fluttered to see a room she did not know, yet the familiar sounds of the village. Nathanial would come and go with bowls of food, and she would wake to smells of herbs being burned in small heap on the table next to what she assumed was his bed.
On the second day that she woke at Nathanial’s house, she had every intention and strength to leave. She tipped through the kitchen with a soft bag she filled with food that she could hardly see in the dim light of morning. As she tied the bag she was startled to see his body in the door way.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to wake you up. I hope you don’t mind, I am taking a few things back to my mother.”
He said nothing as he drank her in.
“I’m thankful for all you’ve done but I must go home now my mother.”
“Stay.” His voice was raspy and desperate.
“I can’t. Mother must be scared, confused, and hungry. She depends on me I have to go home.” She could not get the words out fast enough.
“Fine,” he slowly approached her. “We’ll go to your house together and get your mother and your things and bring them back here. There is room enough for all of us.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?” His outburst shocked even himself and disturbed the stillness of the morning.
“You know I can’t. I won’t.”
Controlling the words on the tip of his tongue he approached her like his farming ox. In soft words and slow movements he drew closer. “You will die without me. How are you going to feed your mother and yourself? You have lost your talent. Move to my house. You can try to make pots again if you wish. But in the mean time I could take care of you.”
She refused to listen, turning her back to his.
He coaxed her, “I will take care of you and your mother. You can be mine.” At these words he wrapped his arms around her. She pushed at his arms, which only made him hold tighter. She wiggled for freedom, but he forced her to face him. His eyes had almost changed color in the soft light and he intently looked upon the thing he desired and would wait for no longer. She pressed away, and he held her firm.
“Let go,” she groaned. He only held her tighter, but she refused to give in. “Let go!” Tiredness and weakness broke within her throat. “I refuse to be owned! Not by you or any force!”
He freed one of her hand so that he could touch her lower; but she used the free hand to slap him. His cheeks twitched and then turned into a broad smile. He forced his lips on hers and would not release. He did not respond as she shoved with her hands but pulled away when she bit his lip. Blood trickled lightly from the corner of his lips. Adrina smirked in satisfaction. Nathanial brought his hands to his face to inspect what damage she had done. As soon as he let go of her hands, she was gone.
She ran. The river had disowned her, friends had turned to foe, and her independent strength was failing her. Her feet brought her towards her mother and the river. Tears stayed but for a moment on her cheek as they were swept away by the wind. Without stopping, she dropped the bag of food at her door and ran for the river. She galloped into the spraying water and caused a loud disturbance in the water.
Reaching the middle, she screamed. At first, it was an incomprehensible babble of anger and fear. It slowly turned to words, “Show yourself great goddess of my dreams! I demand you show yourself!”
Turning franticly in each direction she looked for an answer. When nothing happened her knees bent in defeat. Kneeling in the river, she sobbed and then screamed upwards in the pain of brokenness.
“I just can’t do this on my own.” The words were unintelligible as she reasoned, “How can you expect me to make you a great gift and continue to live if you ruin my wheel? I need you. I will work for your purpose.” She breathed out all the toxins she had created in the last weeks and breathed in fresh air.
With her head down she heard the rushing sound of water from a distance. She looked up to the river bend as the sound grew louder. A flood wall of water and goddess was barreling towards her. Her eyes became wide as water flooded over her and Kshpira engulfed her. She surfaced to see the waters had reached the foot of her door and stopped; her wheel could not be seen under the water.
Adrina stood knee deep and watched the waters recede and her wheel emerge slowly from the water. In her soaked through clothes she sat down with a small lump of clay. The wheel turned, her hands formed; the emptiness emerged from the whole. She pushed and created nothingness that defined the walls of purpose. The bowl formed easily and stretched further than the small amount of clay should. The goddess was moving from within her, using her. Before her sat a humongous perfectly balanced bowl that she was sure her whole body could fit in. The wind blew with an almighty force and dried her new creation. With unbelievable ease, she lifted the creation and brought it to the rivers edge. Gently she allowed the current to carry away the vessel. It turned and glided like a leaf upon the water. The wave pushed it up gradually to the wind. She watched it float until it ascended completely out of sight.
Adrina sat with her feet in the river for the rest of the day. Her life was back in balance. She watched her feet blend with the blues of the now soft current. Through the light, her feet looked like the same blue of the water. You could not tell where one began or the other ended; they became a part of each other.