Sometimes the tears feel like salt water in the back of your throat, the same way that the sea water feels when you jump off the rocks into the cool aqua ocean, a stark contrast from the warm summer air.
Sometimes it is alright to fool yourself when it is uninfluenced and under free will.
Sometimes you just need to get through.
She awoke with the birds and the sun, how could one not wish to witness the dappled orange and pink, every day in a new pattern, across the blue sky, the otherworldly hours where no one else is awake, stirring, leaving their mark. Her grandmother would warn her to stay indoors during the hours of sunrise and sunset, for all the things we do not fully understand are also inhabiting those magical hours, the sheer veil just thin enough for them to pass through into our world. Patiently, she would look out of the window, watching the spider living in the corner of the frame, continuously re-building her web after it had been swept away by a broom the afternoon before, and she paused for a moment and thought, maybe she should cease to sweep away those silver threads at the end of every day, what harm could that little spider do? that little spider who catches the moths that eat her clothes, with never a thankyou or acknowledgement, that works so hard to build her destroyed home, always in the same place, always spinning, always weaving.
While she stared out the window, waiting for the sun to touch the first blades of brass, the dew from the night air, reflecting a beautiful spectrum of colour through the tiny drops, she saw an unfamiliar shape, moving over the tiny dirt trail, appearing from behind the tall spinifex, a black horse cantered along the stones, it’s hooves like thundering bells, breaking the early morning silence. Controlling this commanding animal of strength, which left heavy hoof prints in the dirt, tearing up the tiny flowers in its wake, was a man, someone she has not seen before. Going against her grandmother’s words, and the knowledge of all the women before her, she opened the old wooden door, the sun not yet over the hill, even the little spider stopped spinning for a moment, and watched her step outside.
She approached this stranger, without a second thought, in fact, it was without even a first thought, the curiosity just took her over. She studied the man’s face as he lowered himself from the black horse, he had dark hair and dark eyes, that almost glowed like drops of amber. His hands, strong but fine, were adorned with rings that glistened in the rising sun. there was a strength and stoicism about him, or maybe a slight touch of arrogance, she could not quite put her finger on it. He looked like someone she had known before, and like the way a murder of ravens will remember the face of humans who have wronged them, she felt a sense of familiarity.
She asked this man and his companion, what had brought them to her land, why had they come to her home, hidden in the trees and tall grass. They replied that they were part of a hunting party close by, in the neighbouring forest, chasing foxes. The darker man, with eyes of amber, on the black horse, did not actually want to be there, but had felt obligated to ride along with the others, he had pretended to lose his way so that he may rest, but had then stumbled on the little house.
It took some time for her to even ask his name, they were too busy studying one another, and doing a dance of faking disinterest. “The king” his riding companion exclaimed, “that is who you are talking to, and you being an obviously unspoken for woman, could be his companion, he is auditioning for a new queen.” She paused for a moment, and refused this suggestion with a laugh, the king, mocked her cheekily as they left, fading back into the spinifex they had appeared from. She thought about the King in the coming days, for some reason she could not shift him from her mind. But he looked like too much trouble for her, which would prove to be true.
Before long she invited him into her little house, again, without a second thought, or even a first. There was a pull that drew them together, an energy that matched without tiring. Like re-united friends, from another time long before. She loved his eyes of amber and fine hands, she loved how he felt like home and the way he laughed, and she loved how he never asked her where she were going, when she would be back or who she were with, a freedom she had not known with a man before, men who always wanted to own her.
For the woman’s trust, the king had to work harder than he had ever worked before, usually his charisma would pull him through interactions such as this, but the woman needed more, scorned so many times before, she were happy in her little house, with her animals and her simple life, with spinning thread and talking to the stars, so much so, the king wondered if there would ever be enough room for him, and if he would ever win her trust. He began to grow weary, tired of reassuring her that he would not betray her, repeating the same words over and over as if she had forgotten them all together, something that did not come naturally to the king, he struggled deeply to empathise with the angst of others, a stark contrast to the woman, who felt everything, who could sense the energy in any room, as if she was reading the minds of its inhabitants. Just when he thought he may have to give up, something shifted, his patience had paid off and for a time they lived in a blissful world together.
But soon things began to change, the King stared at the spiderweb in the corner of the window as he walked over the threshold, a spiderweb that never bothered him before, and ordered the woman to sweep it away, as she met with his request, the little spider ran across the wall and onto the floor, before he stomped on it with his boot. The woman was saddened by the loss of her little friend, and sadder still that she cleared away the web in the first place, why could she not just say no.
But it was just a small little thing, there are a lot people do not like spiders, next time she will speak up.
This would be the first of many occasions in which she would sacrifice things that she held dear, just to please him. He would request that she clear the herbs growing in her kitchen because he did not like their fragrance, and even to slaughter her ducks in the little river flowing by the house, because the sound they made, reminded him of the ducks his mother used to own when he was a child. The woman starts to feel like a shadow in her own home, and it no longer feels like hers. But still, she says nothing, maybe he was too commanding, but maybe she was also too reluctant to ever speak up with great force, so easily worn down by his authority and also so desperate to please him.
But they were just small things, some herbs can be offensive to the senses, and ducks are so dirty after all. Maybe next time she can gently express that she does not agree.
The next time the king made a request, he asked that she banish her wolf from the little house, the same wolf that had been her loyal companion and protector, could he be jealous of their bond? Or did he just need to be the alpha of every space he entered? this time she spoke back to the king, surely, he will understand if she could find the right way, time, and place to try and plead her case. The king rose off his chair, stamping his feet like a young child and throwing his hands up in the air, yelling at her with a booming voice, so much so, that she could not even finish one sentence … before she just gave up. As she sat in silence wondering what she has done wrong, the king abruptly stopped his tantrum, turned to her, and spoke, with a smirk and a half smile. She thought to herself, how could he go from such anger to laughing? In a split second.
“I am going to make you the queen, but first I have a task for you to complete, and if you fail, I am going to leave, because you have made me so angry, and tired with your constant whining.”
She tried to reply to him, tried to say that all she wanted was for him to fill her cup, like she fills his. But his only response was “yes! My cup is full, I am sick of it, it is full right up to here!” as he waved his arms frantically around his head. Obviously, he did not understand the meaning of her statement, and by now, all his circles around the conversation, but never answering her one question, just felt like an eagle circling a mouse, only to dive for the wheat in the field.
So, what could this first task be?
“Through the valley and across the river, there is a cave, and in that cave an ancient scripture. I want you to go and retrieve it” he told her. “But in that cave, there is also a beast with sharp talons and a taste for revenge, it will see you in the dark and even smell you as you swim through the river to its lair. Surely you can make it back alive, anyone can make that journey, if you cannot, then surely there is something wrong with you.”
The woman without hesitation agreed to this task, she needed to prove to the king that she was worthy, that she was brave and strong enough to succeed in the task that he has set out for her, so she packed a small linen bag, a bag she made herself from flax, slowly and lovingly, she spun the thread, with patience and songs of protection, she wove the thread on a loom, with tiny hands she sewed the little bag together, but only in the daylight sun, as no one should ever wield a sewing needle during the hours of dusk and dawn, when the veil is thin … never let anyone inside, when the veil is thin.
Inside the little bag, she packed a dagger, it’s handle encrusted with amethysts, a scarf to wrap the scriptures in, some fruit to offer to the spirits of the river, and finally she packed a mirror, it’s delicate frame inlaid with shell and thinly pounded gold, so that she may fix her hair, and wipe the dirt from her face, before she presented the king with what he had asked of her.
The woman left her little house, the spider in the window no longer there to watch her as she walked out of the front door, down the stoney path to disappear into the tall grass. She wandered through the familiar forest, the smell of damp leaves and moss, a comfort she has not felt in a long time, the comfort of being alone. This was a place that she knew herself, she knew the trees and the rocks, she knew the sounds of the animals and every poison and its cure. This was a place where in the absence of expectation, the absence of influence, that she could see clearly.
Once she reached the valley, a place she had never dared venture, she felt not fear, but a sense of power, a sense of empowerment, maybe she could abandon her journey for the king, and stay in this wild place, to see where it may take her. She entertained this idea for a while, sitting under a big tree and creating a circle of stones while she thought, and thought … and thought. Just like the stones, she bent her mind around in a loop, like the serpent forever eating its own tail. Coming back to the start, coming back to the reason to even be in this valley, she picked herself up, brushed the bark from her cloak, and again, began to walk, deeper still into the abyss of trees.
Just when the woman was beginning to grow tired, she heard the roar of water, and looked to the sky to see the birds who hunt for fish, and who build nests in the reeds, flying above her. This must be the river, she thought to herself, now feeling fear for the first time, knowing she must enter the dark forceful water, knowing it may swallow her up, never to find her way to the surface again.
As she approached its banks, she kneeled down, and opened her little linen bag, pulling out the food she had brought to give to the spirits of the river. She carefully placed the little glowing gems of fruit on leaves and laid them down on the river’s edge. A vibration through her body, startled her during this moment of peace, she looked around her, but could see nothing, until a giant frog emerged from the brackish water, with pond weed still atop its emerald green head. They stared at one another for a moment, and she began to study the giant frog’s eyes, she saw familiar drops of amber, encased by ebony globes, just as she found herself becoming mesmerized by this mystical beast, it broke their gaze and hopped over to the fruit that she had only just laid down, and gobbled it up in one foul swoop, before disappearing again into the depths of the river from where it came.
The women felt tears flow down her cheek, she wiped them away but could not control more from taking their place, and before she could compose herself, she became a sobbing mess laying in the mud, until this moment, she felt so strong and so sure of herself, maybe this sadness was there all along, maybe she has pushed it down so far in her belly that it became enraged by being denied, and now was refusing to lay in the depths of which it had been banished.
How much longer could she lay here? On this river bank where she may not even be welcome, with no gifts for the spirits, so ashamed of her now muddy cloak, why could she not just hold back those tears, how could she let it take her over so … she tried to wash away the earth, so bonded with the cloth, but it would not budge; somehow everything now just felt marred, like it would never be clean again.
What did she have to lose? It seems she had already lost some of herself. There was not much else to do but to finish her journey, now so driven by a lack of care for what may come, at least that dulled down her fear. She followed the riverbank looking for a shallow place to cross, and once again, the giant emerald green frog appeared, just its familiar amber flecked eyes protruding above the water, watching her. The woman stopped, stared at the frog, and began to scream “Why did you eat the fruit!? Why!? I needed it for the river spirits, so they may let me cross, now what will I do?” She was so angry that she felt tingling in her feet, rushing all the way up to her face, and even into her wild hair, as if it would become electric at any moment.
As she stared at the giant frog, it arose from the river once again, and just waited like a stone … like a beautiful glistening treasure in the water. Was it now trying to help her? After all the trouble it has caused. She edged closer, and closer, still the frog did not move. She lifted her leg over the edge of the bank, feeling the sting of the reeds pierce her skin, and stepped onto the back of the frog, before taking a courageous leap to the other side of the river. She looked back at the giant frog, but it was gone, nothing but little bubbles on the surface of the water remained, to show it was ever there.
The forest looked different on this side, it felt different, the air was colder, and the trees did not speak. From here the woman did not know in which direction she should begin to walk, the wall of trees and thick forest had no obvious trail, the sun had started its decent into the underworld, and dusk was fast approaching. All she could do was collect branches and bracken ferns, laying them in a pile as she wove together morning glory vines into rope, singing songs of protection, and putting all her newfound clarity aside, just so she could survive the night. She tied together the branches from the trees, who refused to speak to her, with the protective rope, laid the bracken fern over the top, and curled up inside her new little house, on the earthy forest floor.
She felt so alone, and the night felt like it would never end, she felt so lonely that she would of even welcomed the giant emerald frog to lay beside her new little house, that frog that had caused her so much trouble, that made her cry and muddy her cloak … that frog who she is sure also helped her, a gesture that she still could not make sense of in her mind.
The sun began to rise, the beams of light filtering through the trees, and through her fingers, as she held her hands over her tired face, wondering if it has all been a dream. Ignoring the rule of dawn, she unwound the cloak from her body, picked up her little bag, and emerging from the fern house she built, stood still in front of the wall of trees, once again.
The woman heard the sound a bird, for the first time on this side of the river, and followed It into the forest. It led her right to the cave that she was seeking, the noise started to sound less like a bird and now more like a woman crying, surely, she was beginning to lose her mind from the sleepless night before. She pulled out the dagger from her little bag and entered the cave, knowing that at any moment the beast that inhabited it would emerge, to protect its treasure. Stepping as softly as she could on the sandy floor, looking around for what she had come for, then in a flash of feathers and claws, she was knocked to the ground, a mighty beast pinning her down by the chest, one sharp talon resting above her heart, ready to destroy her in an instant. Slowly, she pulled the amethyst encrusted dagger from where it fell beside her, and swiftly held it to the beast’s neck, then to her surprise the beast of feathers and claws bowed its head and pulled away, not moving, not making a sound. The woman took the scarf from her bag, and tied up the beast, and also covered it’s terrifying face, so that she may look for the ancient scriptures that had led her to the cave. She looked everywhere, behind every rock, in every wooden chest and even dug in desperation into the very sand floor she was standing on, it was no-where to be found. How could she have come all this way, endured to much, to come back empty handed, to come back a failure … to prove the king right.
Still, she retrieved the mirror from her bag, and held it up to her face, she looked like someone she no longer knew, her eyes lifeless and defeated, her face covered in dirt. She tried to wipe it clean with the hem of her cloak, and straighten her wild hair, maybe the king could just be happy that she had returned alive, even if she came back empty handed, maybe he would still think her beautiful and still desire her.
As she tried to imagine what might befall her, when she returned home, something in the background caught her eye, the scarf had fallen from the beasts head and there, reflected in the mirror she saw the face of a woman, behind her own. She turned around and dropped the mirror to the cave floor, so confused by what was in front of her, and it broke in two, the inlaid shell, breaking free and disappearing into the sand. The beast, now in half human form did not speak, it reached with one clawed foot, into its feathers, and pulled out the coveted scripture, handing it to the woman, it’s eyes downturned and sombre, not unlike her own. As she took the scripture, she could not help but notice a ring on its toe, such a familiar ring, with such a familiar insignia, then it dawned on her … this was not a beast at all, this was the previous queen.
The woman hurried out of the cave, with so many unanswered questions, why would the king send her here? Why was the previous queen now a beast in a hidden cave? The towns people said the previous queen had gone mad, and that she had to be banished from the kingdom, had she been enchanted? And if so, by who?
The woman ran through the silent forest and back to the river, again the giant emerald frog was waiting in the water, where the river was most narrow. She stopped on the rivers edge, hoping that the frog would again allow her to jump on its back like before, so that she can make it across to the other side. The giant frog remained still, just gazing at her. She took this as a sign that it would help her, and she jumped onto it’s back, only for it to throw her into the freezing cold water, all she could think about was the scripture, how it would be destroyed. She held her bag up above her head and tried to swim out of the strong river current, barely keeping her face above the water, clawing at the clay and mud, still one arm above her head, she pulled herself up the riverbank, this time the sharp reeds piercing her entire body as she did. She caught her breath and sat up, frantically pulling open her bag to make sure the scripture had survived, she thrust her hands inside to feel the dry paper, and cried with relief, before glaring back at that awful frog as it turned and sank beneath the surface of the river. How could it help her one minute and hinder her the next.
The woman, bloodied, exhausted, and soaking wet, with no mirror to see her face and fix her hair, made the long journey home, talking to the trees that know her so well, and collecting herbs to heal her wounds as she went. The closer she got to the kingdom the more nervous she became; she had succeeded in her task, but she was now so confused by what she had seen. She felt differently about everything.
As she approached the kingdom gate, the king emerged, and emerging like it was any other normal day, as if he had not sent the woman on the journey from which she had just returned. He did not ask her whether she had found the scriptures or defeated the beast, he did not ask her to come and sit by the fire and get out of her soaking wet clothing, but he did ask her … “why is your hair so unkept and wild?, why are you so covered in dirt?” before turning his back on her and walking toward the castle. She followed behind him, not upset with his response but ashamed of herself.
Just as she had almost given up on being shown any kindness, the king handed her some dry clothes and pulled her towards the fire. He asked her if she had succeeded in her task, but when she went to answer, no words came out, she could not speak at all, she was silent, just like the half beast half woman back in the cave. The king did not even question her lack of words, as if her silence were almost expected; She handed him the scripture and waited for his response eagerly.
The king unrolled the ancient scripture and scanned over it with that signature smirk of his. The woman watched in anticipation, hoping for some kind of praise, hoping for anything from him. He laid it down on the fragrant oak table beside the fire, and said “I cannot read this scripture, for I do not understand it, you must now learn the ancient language with which it is written, and then tell me what it means.” The woman felt the deepest defeat and exhaustion she has ever felt, all this, and now she must fulfil another near impossible task. She wanted to ask the king about the half beast half woman in the cave, but because she lost her voice on her journey, she had to write it down, she pulled a feather quill and some paper off the same oak table that held the scripture, and quickly wrote down her question, gently pulling the king’s arm to get his attention, before handing him, what felt like the most important thing she has ever held in her hands.
He barely looked at her and threw the paper into the fire, the woman froze in disbelief, as he said to her “I am too tired for your games right now, and actually … is that a feather growing from your arm?” He turned away from her and got into the bed, falling asleep immediately, as the woman sobbed next to the roaring flames that had eaten her burning question, looking down at her arm, to indeed, see a feather growing out of her skin.
The woman awoke to smoking coals, crackling, and hissing as the orange glow faded. She was freezing, her body so tired, her mind a fragmented mess, just like her broken mirror. She had already put so much into finding this scripture for the king, she did not feel she had the energy to continue, to decipher it, but she also could not walk away now, not after all this. Besides, was he not kind to her when he handed her the dry clothes and led her to the fire that kept her warm through the night, had he not made the effort to meet her at the kingdom gates when she returned from her quest. She had to be understanding that he was exhausted too, that the head that wears the crown is heavy. Yes, she had wandered the forest, swam rivers and met beasts, but she did not have the weight of being king, this is something she told herself many times over the coming weeks.
Slowly the woman began to regain her voice, but it was softer and quieter than before, she dared not ask the king again about the beast in the cave, that beast with the face of a woman, and she dare not ever speak about to anyone else, besides who would believe her? The only words the king ever spoke about the previous queen, were words of anger and spite. That the previous queen had an illness of the mind, that she tried to change him, and that she herself had changed into a monster from jealousy and rage.
The woman searched through every book she could find, every library, asked every priest, wise woman, and man, but still she could not discover what this ancient language was, or even begin to learn it. How would she ever please the king, how long would he remain patient while she searched and how much longer could she endure being thrown out into the cold by him, rarely basking in the sun of his affection. He rarely even glanced her way, and if he did it was only because he craved the never-ending love and adoration that he would receive from her, even with all that she bestowed upon him, all she would get in return would be the same question, “Do I see more feathers growing, not only from your arms, but now from your back?, are your legs starting to grow rough and long, with black claws on the ends of your toes?, is your face growing a large beak?, the kind that scoops up fish from the ocean waves, in one gulp”
The woman became so enraged with her situation that she began to speak out, the words would just leave her mouth without a second thought or even a first, she was becoming someone she did not like, someone quick to anger and the people of the kingdom were starting to talk, they did not see her fit to be queen and more fitting of a sorceress. They gossiped about her knowledge of plants, and how she spoke to the trees and the animals, they spread rumours about how she met the king in her corner of the forest, how she must have bewitched him, tricked him, and used a spell, to have some kind of hold over him, to make him show interest in her.
The woman became so caught up in defending her name that she forgot about her question for the king, why would he refuse to give her what she desired, what she needed? The woman did not want gold, gemstones, or power, all she wanted was to be heard, to be loved and to be respected, why did he send her on these seemingly pointless quests? … and why was the previous queen now a beast?
Then one night she just could not hold it inside any longer, she and the king, sat in the banquet hall of the castle, with all of the kings loyal friends, the woman felt her rage build, with every word the king spoke to undermine her, and make her feel the size of an ant, the size of a grain of sand .. the rage built even more, until … she … spoke … back.
Once the words slipped from her dry lips, they just kept flowing, she was even shocked with herself, her eyes must have looked terrified in comparison to her mouth, as she spoke those revelations, she was sick of being the centre of every insulting joke, she was sick of remaining silent to survive. The king’s loyal friends attacked like a pack of hell hounds, standing over the seated woman and pointing at her as they yelled, even the women at the table forgot the bond of sisters, sisters who should know the secret pains and struggles of the other, and they stood behind the men, as they yelled and stamped their feet like children, so enraged that the woman should try and stand up to the king, it was that moment she saw clearly, as clear as a diamond, that there were one set of rules for the king, and one very rigid set for herself. Through all this, the king said nothing, never coming to her defence.
The woman, so ashamed of herself for losing her composure, stood up, and walked away, leaving the yelling behind her. As she ran to her room, she saw a glimpse of herself in the hall mirror, and she stopped dead in her tracks … there they were, all those feathers the king had asked her about, covering her arms, covering her head, her legs, and where her face should be, there was a monstrous beak, the beak of a pelican. She studied her new form, and sighed, no longer fighting it … this must be who she really is, and she has just been the last to see it.
Before she knew where her clawed feet were taking her, she moved toward the castle balcony, if she were to be a bird, why not use these wings that she has grown, use them to fly to the ocean and live alone on an island, where she would build a nest of spun gold and Rubies, where she would not inflict her “too much” on anyone else. She climbed the grey stones, and stood on the ledge, the air opening her lungs with the promise of something new. The palace guards, ran to grab her, pulling her away from the ledge that lead to certain death, asking what she was doing?, why would she risk her life like this?, “but I am a bird!” she exclaimed, the guards shocked, replied, but you look nothing like a bird, You are a woman! She looked at her arms and saw pale skin, no silky white and grey feathers, no claws … she thought she must be going mad, just like the king’s consort before her.
The woman slowly made her way to her room, closed the heavy wooden door, feeling an un-explained guilt as it creaked shut, hoping the noise did not disturb anyone, and sat on her bed. She stared at the wall not for 10 minutes, not for an hour, but until the next morning, just thinking, just trying to make sense of how she came to this point, In this room, on this bed. She then realized that in this time, the king never made his way to her room, even just to make sure she never took flight from that ledge.
The women stayed in her room until the sun rose, she did not start her day at dawn, she did not hurry herself to continue in her task of deciphering the scripture. She lit the fireplace, patiently waited for the wood to burn to coals, and slowly boiled water to make tea. She carefully poured the tea into two little cups, placing them on two plates, with what little food she could find in her room, some simple cake and an apple cut in half to show the star inside, and placed one on the floor, and one on the table under the window, offering something to all the spirits she had neglected, to the spirits who granted her wishes and kept her safe, and the spirits who dwell on the ground, who bite at your ankles if you do not feed them, who deserve equal respect even though they give nothing in return but the promise of not hurting you.
When the sun shone through the window, and she had completed the rituals that she had always done, she took a deep breath and opened the door to her room. She now had two choices, either leave, without a word, back to her little house, or she could start looking for answers, now knowing that she was not a bird with feathers and a beak, but a woman who had come from the other side of madness, as though she were no longer in her body but looking down on herself, on the whole tale that is unfolding, and she felt some power to come back to her.
As she opened the door, the king was already standing right there, wishing to finally speak to her. She bid him good morning and continued on her way, with no questions and no attention given to him, the attention that he craved so deeply, whether it be good or bad, he tried to tell her that he wanted see her, wanted to know if she were alright, wanted to apologise to her for the events from the night before, but he did not know how, the words could not freely flow, as if he had lost his voice … in his mind he thought she needed to be alone, in his mind he had done no wrong, and now she really did want to be alone, and it was the king who would now know what it means to be invisible.
Over the coming days the woman continued her search for knowledge, she had already exhausted her options outside the kingdom, and the last place she had not looked was the family vault, could there be some forgotten book hidden away in there, that could contain the answers? After all, how did the king even know about this scripture, and why did the previous queen have it tucked under her wing? Surely there is a link to the castle. She made her way down the dark stone steps, all the way down to the family vault, it seemed so strange to her that the family should keep their most treasured possessions in the lowest point of the castle, why not keep them in the highest room, the room closest to the sky? She was about to find out.
As she entered the room, carrying a candle to chase away the darkness, she felt a feeling she could not explain, a feeling of frantic energy combined with hopelessness. The candle flame illuminated rows and rows of shelves, filled with books, and rolled up dusty paper, the skins of animals hanging on the walls, their glass eyes following her around the room as she walked, and then something stood out to her, at first she thought her mind was playing tricks on her, the shadows moving and dancing with the candlelight. There, hanging on the wall amongst the portraits of the king and his family, was a large painting of them all together, but two members had their human faces replaced with those of a dog … and a parrot. The woman pulled back, the green and red feathers of the parrot’s head burnt into her psyche … birds she thought … all these birds.
That was enough searching for one day, all she ever found was more questions than answers. As she moved up the cold staircase, she heard footsteps … the king emerged from the corner of the stone wall, not even surprised to see her there, and asked “ did you find what you were looking for?” the woman felt no shame in breaching his privacy, looked him dead in the eyes and asked “Who are those people in your family portrait, that have their faces painted over with animals? Were they told they were growing feathers and fur before they transformed altogether?” the king folded without a fight, they were his siblings, who no longer spoke to his parents, no longer wished to be a part of the kingdom. Their father so enraged by the rejection and loss of control, that he turned them into animals, a power the king has now inherited himself.
“Who is the beast in the cave?” the woman asked in a way she had never asked before, she backed the king into the cold stone wall, so he was unable to escape her intent questioning, he tried to use his charm, his charisma to direct the questioning anywhere else, but the woman would not have it, and asked him over, and over again, he fumbled on his words before pausing …“I know you think that it is the previous queen, but it is not, yes, the previous queen was unwell, and the experience with her and all the queens before her, broke me, and I never wish to be broken again, that is why I am the way I am … that beast in the cave, with the head of a woman, that is my mother, my father was a cruel man to her, and to us, she spoke too loudly, challenged him too much, and so he banished her to the cave. She is free to leave that cave, to pull out her feathers and to again become human, but she cannot, she refuses to leave them behind, it is now her only story. Our mother also turned her back on us, she never thought of her children, while she hid in that cave, we were alone with no-one to turn to. That is why I sent you there, I needed to find answers, I need that scripture, I need you to learn the language and read it to me and I needed to know if you would abandon me too. Did you ever think that I am like this because I am not happy? I am not a happy person.”
The woman did not know what to reply, there it was, everything she had so desperately needed to know, for once her mind stopped, she stopped wondering, stopped fighting herself. Looking into his now calm eyes, no longer filled with mocking or that cheeky glint, she saw sadness, like he had pulled off a mask, holding it by his side. Those eyes started to look so familiar to her, big ebony globes with flecks of amber, and as he swept back his hair, she saw his emerald and gold ring atop his head … that damn frog! The frog from the river! He had used magic against her, fooled her!
The woman did not break their gaze, and started to remove her clothing, bit by bit until she stood naked before him and said to him in an unwavering voice “I am not a bird, for look at my pale skin, I have no feathers, I have no claws, nor beak, I do not squawk, but may sing like a bird that bothers you so … but I do it out of care, I do it out of love, because believe it or not my king, you are not even a prince, but more like a little lost frog, circling a copper pot, unable to find the way out of the water, even if that water is your home, I know who you are … I see you!”
The woman left the king there in shock, he was left more naked than she, without a shred of clothing on her body. She stormed all the way back to her room, bare naked, the people of the palace absolutely shocked by what they were witnessing. Now she was certainly not fit to be queen, but also demoted from sorceress to run of the mill witch. The woman slammed the door, not caring at all if she bothered anyone, and again sat on the edge of her bed, but she did not feel that ball in her stomach anymore, that pain of feeling unheard and ignored, she felt sorry for the king, even if he treated her badly, even if he sabotaged her journey across the river, and in turn was just sabotaging himself. She saw someone broken by the earliest experiences of their life, someone who had not experienced unconditional love, and the care every child should be given without question.
The king came to her room every morning, over the coming days, edging his way in like a terrified animal. Desperate just to sit on the end of her bed. Now it was she giving the one worded answers, the mocking glares and seldom letting the king bask in the sun of her affection, affection he had enjoyed so freely before, that she never, ever made him beg for, even when he didn’t deserve it … she wondered if she should of rewarded so much disrespect towards her, not just from the king, but from many people in her life … maybe, she had taught those around her, how to treat her, she knew that she was forever changed, not into a beast but into a woman who could be both kind like the pelican that pricks it’s own chest with it’s beak, to feed it’s very own blood to it’s young, but also defend the nest when needed and kill just the amount of fish required.
The woman’s anger began to fade after a time, but she still could not bring herself to forgive the king, every day he begged her, proclaimed his love for her, he even made her queen. It was not until he started to look as though he were losing a part of himself from this neglect that she started to soften, because if anyone knew what it was to lose yourself, she did. The woman could also not help but to look back at where it all began, at how hard the king had worked to gain her trust, even if he did eventually misplace it.
The new queen, like every morning, sat in front of the fire and boiled water for the tea she offered the spirits above and the spirits below, she refused to leave her room until dawn had past, and then one day she broke this rule, again … like she did all those years ago when a black horse arrived at her little house, from behind the spinifex, carrying a man that had dark eyes tinted with drops of amber, a man with strong but fine hands, covered in rings, that glistened in the sun. She heard a gentle knock at the door, and opened it to reveal the king, sombre and subdued.
He paused for a long while and asked … “Do you see that? Do I have feathers growing from my arms, am I turning into a bird?”
This was her time, she said to herself, her time to tell him he was growing a dusty orange beak, and webbed red feet, that his honking is the most annoying sound to her ears. Finally, she could have the upper hand. She thought long and hard, and she replied to him this.
“No” …
“You look nothing like a bird, for you are a man.”
And what about the scripture? the one that the new queen had fought so hard to find, and so hard to understand?
She and the king did find out what that ancient language was, and every day they translate a little bit more of that scripture together.
Footnotes:
The protagonist has been given no name, because she represents all women, who know what it is to be turning into that bird, with imaginary feathers sprouting from their arms. This piece explores the nuances of narcissism, gaslighting, stonewalling, neglect, spite, fawning, childhood trauma, but also breaking those patterns, and the role they play in relationships. In a time when words are loosing their meaning through use in sarcasm, joking around, diagnosing everyone who shows poor behaviour, or too freely being thrown around without fully understanding the weight behind them, maybe it is time to step back and really explore our interactions with others on a deeper level. We also need to acknowledge that relationships, no matter who they are with, will have many highs and lows, people are not disposable, and if we have the emotional tools that others do not, some understanding can take place, to bring about healing. I am in no way suggesting that anyone should endure any form of abuse, I am only suggesting that people are complicated beings, and I am only speaking from my own lived experiences and level of understanding.
Symbolism of animals in this story:
The spider is a symbol of perseverance and feminine wisdom, always working on the web of life, always re-building the broken strands.
Dark coloured animals are a warning of treachery and deceit.
Ravens will remember the faces of many humans, if they have been kind to them or if they have hurt them.
The ducks, pelican and frog are significant symbolism to myself and my story.
Meaning behind the traditions and magical tools:
The thundering bells described as the sound made by the horse, reference the use of bells to both summon, and to banish away spirits.
Flax is an ancient plant that is spun into linen, and supposedly heals the body.
Amethyst gemstones, have been used in medieval times to prevent drunkenness and poisoning and to clear the mind, this stone is also linked to the element of air, and therefore swords, a symbol in the tarot and occultism that signifies the intellect, connection, conversation and cutting through conflict.
The hours of dusk and dawn, are seen as the time when the veil between this world, and the next is very thin. When I would bring my children to Bali, especially when my son was still a baby, his father would never allow us to be outside during those hours. For that is when the malevolent spirits are lurking. The same is said for using sharp tools such as needles after dark.
Morning glory vine, this plant is used in binding magic and contains mind altering alkaloids.
The spinning of magic into the bag, in ancient times and in many cultures, wishes for protection, health and prosperity are woven into the clothing of family members.
Yes, the part about the parrot’s head and the dog’s head over the family portrait … it is true.
