Mail Me


About Me
Previous Next


Light, friendly, green light beams!

She cautiously opened her eyes. This was not the glaring light of the desert. Certainly not! This was not the desert at all. Looking around she realized that the light forced its way through dark brown wooden planks. She sat up. Just then she became aware that she was lying on a green bed. A bed made of leaves and flowers. Confused the woman wondered how she got here. She only could remember the sun, the heat and the thirst. The DESERT!

Somehow she had found a way out of this trap and must have reached this little hut. But she could not even begin to imagine how. Her mind was a blank. There had been nothing but the sun, the heat, more heat and dust.

Anyway now she was here, safe from all that. Somewhere during the long trek throuhg the desert she had lost the ability to question. The merciless sun had been a good teacher, to make her understand what really mattered. It was not very much as she had found out. Dreams were important, because they kept you going, even if you think, you cannot possibly go any further. Facts were important, too, because they were like walls too high to climb - you just had to accept their existence. There was not very much else. Not anymore.

With both her hands she grabbed the green leaves and pressed them hard. They were humid, and lush and juicy. They felt so good! She buried her face in them, and this felt even better. Her skin was still sore, although it did not hurt as much anymore.

Again a little voice, deep in her mind began to wonder how she had found her way out of the desert. But there was no memory she could draw into the soft green light. She fell asleep again. Hours or days, she could not tell when she woke up again, it was later, that was all she knew.

Thirsty she got up looking around more closely than the first time. There was a door to one side and on the other there was a kind of window. It was just a square cut out of the wooden planks and reused as a kind of shutter, attached with some leather strings. She opened it and looked outside. All she could see were trees, trees and even more trees. Moss covered the ground like a carpet, some mushrooms shimmered in the fading light. A few flowers, yellow, white and blue for variety dotted the green.

Everything looked so lush, so fertile, so immensely alive. She did not notice the tears running down her cheeks, making their way around her smiling lips.

Drinking in the sight of the lush vegetation she forgot about the drink, she had been going to get. When it got dark she felt the humid, slightly cool touch of a night breeze. Suddenly a little giggle dropped out of her still smiling mouth.

For the time being she felt content just standing there and felt almost happy though there still was an ache she could not deny nor explain. It was there, familiar like a scar you got as a child.

When the moon arose, a full moon even, her features changed from happy face to melancholy. The moon... Tears once more ran down her face. She closed the window. No moon, not tonight. She remembered the moon in the desert. It had dragged her farther and farther into the desert and further and further away from herself. She had found a place now. For the moment she wanted nothing else but a rest. A few breaths between screams.

There was no light in the hut but the silvery moon beams squeezing through the slits in the planks. It still was enough for her to find a mug filled with water. She did not wonder where it had come from, but drank greedily and spilled some of the water. It ran in little streams down her breasts, to her tummy and further down. A shudder made her putting the mug down again. She became aware that she was stark naked. She looked around to see if her clothes were lying somewhere, but there was nothing apart from the bed and the table where the mug had been standing on. It did not matter, she found her way and went back to bed, falling asleep immediately.

She was walking over soft moss slightly wet with dew. The ache she still felt in her once shredded feet slowly vanished, soothed by the soft and humid moss. The sounds of the forest at night did not frighten her. Branches stroked her head. Sometimes she had to bend to avoid them. Little twigs snapped under her bare feet.

Suddenly, a pale shape approached from behind a tree to her right. Startled she stood still. Then she remembered. Happily, she went down her knees and embraced the big grey wolf. For a few moments she just enjoyed the feeling of the soft fur stroking her naked arms, her face and breasts. Then, the wolf disappeared under her hands, just dissolving, soon there was nothing left of him. Tears ran down her cheeks and she felt lonelier than ever.

Jus then she heard a rustle. Anxious she looked around, hugging herself. There was something. She could not tell what. Leaves and moss together with little twigs and the blossoms from the flowers growing everywhere formed to create a shape. She went a step back, another one, prepared to run away. Her left side was already pointing the way she had come. Fascinated she still could not draw away, not before finding out what the shape was to become.

Slowly the shape’s form became more precise. It looked like,... like a woman, a huge woman, like one of these idols they made in some villages along the coast. An idol representing a goddess. The air smelled of flowers and fresh cut wood. There was another smell... A dark one... Not frightening, but... Then she recognized it, the smell of humid, dark brown soil. The green woman made of leaves and flowers was just standing there, not trying to move closer. There was something expectantly in this, as if she was supposed to say or do something. She just could not think what! Something touched her. No, touched this was not quite right. It felt as if someone was stroking her mind cautiously so not to frighten her. But still she was scared and confused. What was she supposed to do? She considered the appearance and thought that if it was a kind of ghost or even a kind of supernatural being, it might not be able to speak to her with words. She could feel the touch again. Trying hard to relax she made an attempt to reply to the question she thought she felt behind the touch. Now it felt like two hands drawing closer, stroking her... She formed a thought: Who are you? Hesitantly the appearance came closer - in every context, in her mind as well as in body. Then, there was an answer: I am me. Just me, poor thing!

She fainted. On the other side of conscience she felt little sprouts growing into her flesh. She could hear the rustle of the young leaves when they found their way out through bones and skin on the other side . Her awareness went deeper into the shades, hiding from what happened to her. [...]


Copyright, Sybille Sterk 2002, 2003
All material on this site is copyrighted. For more information, e-mail me or check the Licensing Page.