Hidden Embers By Jason C. Merriam ’04
At dawn, on the fifth day, I found it. A river of black stone, stretching as Far as my eyes could see. Lifeless, cold, Perhaps a sign to mark the land of death.
What is it to be the last? Just present, no future, no past. Last of a tribe, a people, a belief. A feeling once fraught with anxiety
I crept across it, hard, unyielding, The dew slick on its smooth ebon surface. Whispering my gratitude to the Spirit, I shamble my way into the scrub brush,
Yet now accepted with numbing relief. A living relic steeped in antiquity, Reminder of a forgotten age, Brimming with lost knowledge and skills.
My clothing caught on the thorns and brambles. As I climb a large hill, my ears notice Noises that are unfamiliar to me. It drowns out the sounds of nature I know.
I was raised far from civilization, The wilderness was my classroom and home. My grandfather the teacher, I, his pupil. I learned to hunt, to heal, to hone myself
I decide to gain the summit, then wait for night. When the sun sets, the dissonant noise grows. I see the light of the Gods below, More numerous than the stars of the sky.
Into a master of my surroundings. I immerse into ancient culture, The stories, art, dance, languages became mine. For over two decades we trained, waiting.
This land is not for my kind. I know this. Behind me, the serpents of the earth ride, Their eyes aglow along the dark river. There is no escape tonight. I must wait.
My mother died in childbirth. Father left To search for a bride among her people. He never returned. Grandfather was alone. Only a small babe, meager company
When dawn comes, I am tired, my sleep fitful. The buzzing and noises are silent now. I retreat down from the Gods, legs pounding, My footsteps barely under control.
For a once legendary warrior. He made mistakes, but I grew strong and thrived Under his tutelage. He had one rule, Obedience. I lived by boundaries.
I sprint across the river into cover, My breath rattling, my heart hammering. I remember Grandfather’s training. I find the center and compose myself.
Grandfather knew the dangers of the world, So, he shut the door that we might be safe. Years went by, most days the same, then he died. I mourned him, in the old ways, as he wished.
I decide to return to my homeland, Knowing that I cannot live among those Gods who could destroy me without effort. I move in silence, when I hear screaming.
I stayed in our camp for a few more months, Gathering supplies to explore the unknown. I leave in the light of my mother Moon, Trusting in her to keep me safe.
Instinctively, I rush toward the sound, Blood pumping, muscles tearing at the thought Of seeing another person again. I scramble through forest into a clearing.
Through the world of my youth, I travel, Over the old hills, across cool streams, Through meadows teeming with wildflowers, I hear the chatter of the small animals.
Directly ahead is a temple to the Gods. It is tall like a tree and gleams white, Rising from the ground like a mountain. Walls surround it on all sides, barrier
I press beyond, past everywhere I know. The forests are thinning, the game sparse. I hear strange noises in the distance, Ominous lights encroach the moon and stars.
For the gods to keep out the unworthy. Through the slits in the wall I see him.
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