Correspondences

by: Lucy E. Lutzke   

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Down there, under a tall oak, was a beautiful statue made of marble as pale and fine as Jolie’s skin. The grassland by the river had always been my favourite place to play; or to catch mice or fish. I would look at the statue, and feel Jolie’s presence, as if she was actually there. Once in a while I would imagine that I could mesmerise Jolie by staring at her the way the statue was staring at me. It’s though I could turn Jolie into a statue - smooth, white and calm.

Behind the cornfield, not far from the tree, I paused for a while to rest in the still dewy grass and watch the birds fly by. Jolie had never liked these big white birds. I had seen her a few times chasing them off with a broom. The play of light between the tree’s branches and leaves reminded me of the carefree days in her garden. My young mistress had disappeared one night, shortly after sunset. For the first days of her disappearance I had hoped she would come back soon, but then I recognised she would never return. There was no one else in the family to play with, no one who really cared about me. I was left on my own, and that morning I had felt her absence more painfully than ever before. In addition to the feeling of loneliness there was a sudden uneasiness that came over me while I was lying in the grass. It seemed to me as if there was someone observing me, a gaze that felt like a cool breath of air. I had a good look around, and it struck me like an electric shock. There was no statue under the oak tree.

Panic and an indescribable force made me run further along the shore. The river sneaked like a python through the morning mists. It gave off a musty smell of rotten leaves and mouldy moss. There was another smell, like there was something decaying, apart from dead plants and fish washed ashore. It was a smell that penetrated me through and through like an evil poison. As I continued to run, frosty clouds gathered slowly and cast a growing shadow over the tawny shore. Then suddenly, around the next bend, a row of lush pines gave way to the grisly sight of rotting logs and harsh cliffs. The water savagely forced its way through a prehistoric looking landscape towards the edge of a roaring canyon. Trees and bushes seemed to whisper to me, and I could feel the strange energy around me growing stronger. Then I saw her. Her smooth skin shone paler then ever in the dim light. Slowly and carefully I licked the dried tiny trickle on her left temple. A big white bird was circling above us. It was a seagull.