issue twenty

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(400 words)
David Woodward
Within a Bigger Sun
Trust is freedom. The earth might swallow me but the wind across my face feels like a new day. Don't look back. I know he's there. I can sense his shadow on my back. Hide the light. It shoots through me now. I'm hollow and black. I am the sirocco wind that moves the sand, that lifts the dust, that dances the finer particles that made the earthen form. I am the ether's dream. This is not real, she thought.

Freedom is everything. The sun might follow me forever. If I focus hard enough, if I swallow hard enough, I might be able to face what lies ahead; I might push the pain down and out of sight. Look back. I know we're there. I can sense the way she was; the way we moved, together. Subtle and slight, we made the light. There is a bigger sun; it surrounds the sun -- our sun. We are bigger than we appear. Appearance is merely the thought we were made to believe when sleep was stronger than truth. Dream, he thought.

The nucleus was shattered. The fall-out was radiation. It was radiant. One could not face the sight; the other could not trust their sight. New particles formed between them. It awoke the dawn. She spread her light like ancient words across the distant memories, stretching and fading into unfamiliar colours and melancholic smiles. Fate followed. She dangled her gossamer between the sexes; the opposites we've been made to believe.

- Eve?

- Yes, Adam?

- It was I who wronged you. I can see that now.

- But will you know when wrong has had its day and rights the coming way? Is it in the light you seek?

- I seek only you.

- And I am the wind. What are you?

- Nothing without your breath in me.

The great mandala spoke through the wind into the smaller sun, dreaming. Again, they entered a new dimension. They were still blind, still nebulous -- still -- they ached. They stood the same distance apart the day they had met. The bigger sun grew bigger. The little sun anchored time and space and spat out the next dimension.

- Adam?

- Yes, Eve?

- We are shattered suns. We have fallen here, together. We are pieces, nothing more than pieces, you and I. We have no thing left to follow. We are adrift, blowing into darker and darker corners we might never see. Again.

- Yes. Together. You and I.


M  C  R

This work is copyrighted by the author, David Woodward. All rights reserved.
Photo by
Felicia Simion