“My God. He’s alive, barely, and he’s cold as ice.” The chief shouted to the patrolman, “Get on the radio to the desk and tell the sergeant to get that ambulance in here. Now.” Piano music filtered from the house. Spanger thought it might be Chopin. He paused and listened for a few seconds before he walked up the front steps onto the porch. Sue-Anne Torgerson gave him her timid little wave through the window and came to the door. “Pete’s not here,” she said. “He went out last night and didn’t come home.” It was a report, not a complaint. “Let’s go inside, Mrs. Torgerson. I have something to tell you. It’s best if we sit down.” She perched at the edge of the sofa with her hands in her lap, her legs angled together and crossed at the ankles. “What’s wrong?” she said. “The mayor’s gone. It looks like it might have been a heart attack.” She closed her eyes. A shudder ran through her shoulders and chest as if she were trying to throw off a sudden chill. After a minute she opened her eyes and sat without expression in silence so deep that Spanger’s breathing and the ticking of a clock upstairs filled the room. Moisture gathered at the corners of her eyes but did not fall. “Oh.” It was not quite a moan. She brought her hands across her chest and clasped her upper arms, rocking. Her gaze went around the room, then back to Spanger. “Oh, it’s been so hard.” MAYOR DEAD IN JEEP INCIDENT Man Badly Hurt By Torgerson Vehicle Beating Connection Disclosed by Edward Pease, Daily Dispatch staff
“Ah, my dear friend. It takes many strong men and much skill to travel up stream, where the waters run faster than a raging buffalo. Our boat would not last on the running waters or over the deep falls. It is impossible to travel this way until the summer has calmed the river spirits to make them safe for men. It would take us many weeks to build a wood boat strong enough to resist the sharp rocks that wait on the river’s belly and hidden turns. We must walk across the land to reach my home. One day, our home river will carry you on his back to visit other peoples. Then you will learn his ways.” That night, Fire Maker spoke about the Great Floods. “In the ancient days, there were two great floods. The first flood was long before men and women came to this land. In that time, the animals spoke to one another as we do today. Bear spoke to fish. Fish spoke to birds. They ate plants and berries and grew fat on the land. They saw themselves reflected in the waters. The animals saw how beautiful they were and became proud and boastful. Each one thought he was more beautiful than the other. So the Creator decided to punish the animals for their conceit and wash the arrogance from their faces.” Ari stirred the embers and watched the end of his branch catch fire. He held it up until the feeble flame died, sending curls of blue smoke toward the stars. Fire Maker knew the young travellers enjoyed his stories as much as anyone, though they grew restless as the evening progressed. He continued with a smile. “The waters came pouring down so hard that some lost all their colour and became very plain. Others, like the blue jay, found shelter in the high trees and kept their colour. Because the animals had been so boastful, the Creator even washed away their speech. Now many animals are unable to understand each other when they speak. Wolf eats deer and bear eats fish. The Creator made us all to be brothers. But some forget or do not know how they should be.” Father Finten wanted to share his own story of the flood from the Book of Genesis. But he knew his stories paled in the telling, compared to the storytelling skill of their host. So the missionary priest continued to lose opportunities to make converts. To him, it seemed as though the chief was already converted. The stories he told made much sense for the people of this land and Finten found the Native creation story very beautiful. Father Finten struggled with what he judged to be a heresy forming in his mind: Perhaps God shines through to all the different people of the world in many different forms. If our Christian God is true, and all other gods are false, must I take their god away to give them mine, when all the gods are one and the same True God? He wished there were some theologian around, with whom he could confide. If he lost the Faith and his missionary purpose, what was left? Finten tried to stop his thoughts as Fire Maker’s words continued hypnotically. “One day, the Creator made man. He gave his newest creature everything to be happy. But man too became proud and wanted to be greater than the gods. So the Creator of all things sent another flood. This time, the waters washed the colour from many men. The most proud became almost white.” At this, the six white men looked at one another and Bjorn burst into a hearty laugh, and his companions joined in. Finten remarked, “Yes, we have indeed been too proud. Much too proud.”
twenty-nine Ugga, ugga, you say something with your first word at the sight of fire and another at the sight of shed blood you birth the first language you declare something you try other sounds too show-ask-answer so, your child can learn; take it to where the water springs two million years ago the first pointing tools the first hurling the first meat you feel your cranium enlarging first thoughts, first powerful thoughts you-can’t-endure-the-thoughts you must share them with the person next to you with the person who births a new crying baby a baby with a head bigger than yours you run and throw yourself over the crevasse the first duly recorded suicide.
Misses Of breaths that are not you miss the forest breeze while rusted nails hold your ravaged window where gap reveals light Of dreams which are not you become a missed song while your subconscious rebels and barnacles camouflage a mound of words imprisoned in salt Of the rhythms that are not you miss one step or two when nebula mocks: Have a nice day – as usual your descent sleeved in pain
Manolis Aligizakis 