short story
Play Stupid Games By Josh Clayton
S
othea pointed to the stone naga – the multi headed serpents that were common in the iconography of Cambodia – and began to explain. “When Vasuki, King of the Nagas was being used as a rope, Vishnu told the devas to hold the tail of the giant serpent, not the head, because-” I turned away and snapped another picture of the gates of Angkor Thom, once one of the grandest cities of the ancient world. That’s what I'd been told at least. A row of stone figures flanked each side of the causeway, their arms wrapped around the body of the stone serpentine creatures whose forward end fanned into seven different snake heads. With the cheap camera phone I'd grabbed when we landed, I tried to fit the whole scene inside the field of view. Annoyingly, the picture was spoiled by all the tourists around. Sothea continued explaining mythology to the rest of the group. She was a good enough guide, but I found it hard to think anyone could care about a story that involved giant snakes and an ocean made of milk, let alone carve the entire scene out of stone. I tuned her out and looked up at the giant naga carving. Seven heads fanned out, each one with an open jaw full of teeth. On the beast’s back was a diamond pattern, while on its front every line of its ventral scales had been carefully chiselled from the stone – it was beautiful, and also a little scary. At one point it might have been painted in bright gold, green and red, but now it sat, dull, weathered, and grey. Unnervingly, the empty eyes seemed to follow me as I moved from side-to-side. I stepped closer and was about to touch it when Sothea shouted, “Don't stand so close!” She came running over and pulled me around to
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the side. “The stonework on the nagas is very heavy, and the supports are damaged. Some of them have even cracked and fallen over recently.” I put my hands up and moved to the side, peering closely at the stonework. Aside from a few small mushroom caps sticking out here and there it looked fairly sturdy. Still, while I would have chosen to be somewhere else in the world, I didn't plan on getting killed on this stupid cultural trip. “Where are the broken ones? Will we see them?” one of the other guys in our group asked. “Right now they have only fallen in one temple, which is now closed because people have been hurt going there. But the local authority is concerned that the stonework is deteriorating on all of the nagas and they may close another temple soon. So, please stand back. And no, we will not be going there.” I turned and was about to walk back towards the van when the phone buzzed with a picture message from Heidi – the main reason I had bought the crappy thing. Hey Cody! How’s it going? You shoulda ditched the cultural crap and come down to Cabo with us. The others are sleeping now so I need some company. The picture was her and a few other guys and girls sipping cocktails by the pool. I lingered for a second on her smooth, visible curves and sighed. I would have given anything to skip out on this trip and go down to beach with them, but it was paid for by the school travel assistance program. Not my
