by Zara Starr
I could not understand why, as I loved the saltwater better than the sweet—but the sweet attracted more monsters which made it much more difficult to obtain.
And since the females preferred its taste, we often competed to gather as much of it as possible. For this reason, I did not possess much of the resource myself.
I shook my head; would it really matter? Upon waking, she would need something to drink along with the food I had set aside for her.
I moved to my water jugs and pulled out a wooden cup, placing it near the Guayana leaf which was close to where the female slept. Everything would be ready for her when she finally awoke.
This meant that I could step outside and continue the preparations for the rest of the monlas I needed to smoke for the rest of my clan.
I was the only one who knew which herbs and plants would still work for preservation. It was a lengthy method, and yet it produced something most of the females seemed to enjoy. I was the only one who could both procure the meat and season it to perfection.
I lifted yet another fur from near the bed skins and tossed it over the female. I could still see her visibly tremble from time to time, but she was still breathing.
As soon as I finished preparing the monlas, I would remove her wet clothing, but setting a fire in the home cave seemed critical by the way her body quivered.
I tossed a few logs upon the center stones and moved to flint a spark across the wood—it instantly ignited. Within a few moments, I was satisfied that she would be warm enough to rest until I completed my tasks.
I nodded at my work and folded my arms over my chest. She finally appeared to be somewhat peaceful and I knew she would be safe in the home cave.
My only worry was whether her scent would alert others before I had time to learn more about her—where she had come from and what exactly she was.
I turned to walk away, lowering my head as I disappeared from the home cave. I may not have understood where she came from, but I had no doubt that she was similar to me in many ways.
Maybe she could be a part of my triad—something I desperately desired, wanted, and needed.
Three
Ella
The brisk sensation of cool air blowing over my skin was the last thing I recalled as my eyes cracked open.
An eerie orange glow seemed to emanate all around me and I felt bristling hair brushing against my flesh as I sat up.
How long had I been out? And where was I?
My eyes spread out as I took in my surroundings and I immediately felt my clothes clinging against my body—still heavily damp but it smelled odd, almost like seawater.
Had I been in a lake? Was it an ocean? Where the hell was I?
I could tell as I looked around me that the walls were made of stone and I wondered if the smell was from the earthy scent of soil that came from being within the heart of the earth.
It had to be a cave of some sort and it reminded me of a Neanderthal home as I looked past the bed skins that made up whatever nest of a mattress I had somehow wound up on.
My car had broken down and I had walked to the bus stop during one hell of a crazy-ass rainstorm. Hadn’t I? And yet the last thing I recalled was the glint of gigantic teeth.
Obviously, I had been in water—the scent of it permeated my soaking clothes. I noticed that there was a warm fire—which had been where the orange glow must have come from—and I realized that someone must have brought me to the cave.
That worried me a lot. What would this person do when they returned? Was I actually safe where I was?
As I looked around more, I noticed a huge fan-shaped green leaf that had what looked like a meat and cheese organized on top of it. I perked an eyebrow as I looked to the side of it and noted a small wooden cup with fluid inside.
Had someone prepared food for me? Where the hell was I?
The thoughts in my head just continued to whirl further and further out of my control until I wasn’t sure what had been real and what was just in my mind. Had the teeth I’d seen even been real or was that the manifestation of my brain losing it from all the stressors of my day?
I had heard that it was entirely possible for a person to snap—to completely block out everything bad that had ever happened to them. I had often wondered what actually caused those types of incidences though.
What was the real catalyst for losing your mind? I remembered something my therapist and I had discussed previously and realized that this situation was perfect for reciting her mantra.
“You must ask yourself—is this because of me or is this because of this other person? You must ask yourself what you should be accountable for and what you are not responsible for.”
“If a person places you in a situation of discomfort it is your choice to stand up for yourself and walk away, leaving their bad energy with them. You are not obligated to carry it with you. Your obligation is to carry only what serves you going forward.”
“I understand. I think, anyway,” I said.
“Let’s go one further with this. You need to understand that not all the bad things that happen to you are your fault. When something bad happens to you because life has chosen to take a shit on your head, you have two choices—you can allow the shit to stay with you and permeate the rest of your life, or you can shed it and return to center. You must find ways to return to center, Ella,” Tasha said.
It was funny, I realized, as my mind shifted back to the dark and dank smelling cave that I was temporarily calling a safe space.
What would you think of this place, Tasha? Is this my fault? How do I return to the center when I don’t even know where the hell I am? Hell, you would probably think I am a certifiable nutcase at this point. It was true—how was any of this shit explainable on a logical level?
I stood up suddenly and deposited the bed skin that was covering me atop the others. I immediately realized that my boots were still latched to my feet—surprisingly.
My tights were noticeably shredded in certain places—mostly near the knees. I immediately began looking around the cave. Was there anything I could even wear anywhere in this place?
I noticed what appeared to be a thin-skinned robe jutting out from a rocky ledge just to the right of the bed skin mattress. I decided this would work well enough for clothing because my own clothes were sending a chill straight to the center of my bones.
The last thing I needed was to get hypothermia while sleeping in a cave, of all places. I slid the jacket to the ground and started unbuttoning my blouse.
Now in my white lacy bra, I felt the air nip at my skin with a violent chill. Gosh, it was so cold here. I could hear the roar of the storm outside and wondered where whoever had brought me here had disappeared to.
I couldn’t eat the food that had been presented to me because the only thing that my diet would allow was the fruit—what appeared to be some sort of berry. I wasn’t sure if it was poisonous or not.
I pondered upon whether I should eat it or not as I continued to remove the rest of my clothing—unzipping my skirt and slipping it off as I tore the tights from my legs.
There was no sense in worrying about the fine fabric the department store had recommended now. They were a tattered mess that I was positive wouldn’t be worth a damn cent as anything except maybe a makeshift fishing net, if ever that need arose.
Seeing that my accommodations were most certainly primitive, I wasn’t so sure I should trash them because of the probability of necessity. I had watched enough survival shows to know that much.
Once the majority of my wet clothes were off I decided that staying in the bra and panties seemed a bit ridiculous. After all, there was nobody there and I might need them again in a few days—which meant I needed to let them dry along with the rest of my clothes.
First, I pulled my bra free and then placed it atop the heaping pile I had started with my jacket. Shimmying out of my panties, I stepped forward and pulled the robe free.
It seemed to be a very nice and velv
ety material. I wondered if it were actual animal skin as it reminded me of some of the Native American tribal gowns I had seen while visiting the reservation in Arizona.
It had been one of the most spiritual moments of my life as I traveled by car from the East Coast on my move to California.
I sighed, closing my eyes as I walked over to the strangely shaped leaf and the food spread out on top of it. It only made sense that it must have been for me, but I couldn’t eat the fish.
The last thing I wanted was to be out in the middle of—well, wherever the hell I was— having a bout of serious abdominal pain. I knew my IBS well enough to know that having diarrhea in a cave was probably not something I wanted to experience.
I scoffed and bent down to lift up the water and the odd berries instead. They resembled strawberries in a way but had a strange bluish tint to the flesh as opposed to red. The seed pods, instead of being whitish or golden, appeared to be a shade of soft, almost baby pink.
I lifted them to my nostrils and sniffed them casually. I perked my brow upon the realization that they also smelled similar to strawberries and I wondered if they were sweet and tart like them, as well.
My stomach suddenly rumbled, likely from the smell of the berries, and I finally popped the smallest one into my mouth. I bit into it and I found it juicy…and downright delectable.
What hybrid sort of berry was this and where could I buy more of them? Did they have them at the local farm store? They were incredible! If fruits and veggies were going to be a strict dietary need for me, then I could put up with these berries for sure!
I finished eating the berry and picked up a larger one, biting into it with fervor as I rinsed it all down with the cup of water that tasted oddly reminiscent of seltzer water, with a strange and salty after taste.
“Blech,” I muttered aloud. “What the hell is this?” I spat it out. “How could anyone drink that crap?”
I hurriedly forced a few more berries between my lips and chomped at them mercilessly, in an effort to get rid of the terrible medicinal taste of the fluid.
I tilted my head as I glanced down at the bleu cheese that had large, nearly purple, spots growing all over with greyish blue hairs popping out of them.
“Ugh, that is disgusting,” I said.
There was no way in hell I would put something that was growing hairs in my mouth. But I supposed there were those people who enjoyed Rocky Mountain oysters and hog brains in milk. Who was I to judge this person’s attempt at hospitality? I was suddenly really grateful for being a vegan.
The fish actually looked pretty wholesome. It reminded me of salmon but I had no way of knowing for sure and would not be eating meat in any form, whatsoever. That made it really unimportant.
I glanced down at the fluid in the cup again and stuck out my tongue. God, I hope that wasn’t the only water I would have to drink. It tasted worse than the electrolyte pediatric pops my mother insisted would ‘make me feel better.’
They never did. In fact, I sometimes hypothesized that they were to blame for my constant stomach ailments. Then again, it could have been from anxiety too—I could never be too sure.
I pursed my lips and lifted the rest of the few berries from the leaf, consuming them quickly. The awful saltiness of the water had finally fled from my palate, and yet I was still overwhelmed with a thirst I knew required more liquid.
“Here it goes, I guess,” I muttered as if giving myself the pep talk was going to somehow change the taste of it.
I wished I possessed that sort of magic, I thought as I chuckled and quickly shotgunned the cup as quickly as I possibly could. I polished off the fluid quickly and scowled.
“Ugh—that is just terrible,” I said.
I glanced over at the dull fire as the flames danced. I recalled my mother reminding me of the biblical passage about fire mesmerizing men from the moment they had discovered it and realized it was true.
There was a relieving hypnotic quality to watching the burning tango of each flicker. I realized how dangerous, and yet necessary, the fire actually was and began considering what the alternative would be like.
If there were no fire it would be colder than it was and I was positive that the cave would have been completely obscure—to the point of being pitch black.
I walked over to the fire’s edge and lowered myself, lifting my legs as I crossed them over my lap in what my kindergarten teacher had called ‘the Indian-style.’
I sucked in a breath as I attempted to rehash the events that had led up to this point. I bit into my lower lip and recalled the last thing I had said to Carlisle Hubert and instantly regretted it.
I furrowed my brows and sighed. Nothing made sense. Looking around the cave, it appeared like the setup for a caveman commercial. I was just waiting for someone to hit the lights and shout ‘cut!’
Had I somehow found myself in the midst of some sort of live-action filming sequence?
Considering the staging, it sure seemed that way. I stood up suddenly and walked toward what I presumed to be the entrance of the cave—clinching my eyes slightly as I approached it.
The light from the moon seemed more pronounced as I assessed my surroundings.
It was clear that the cave wasn’t the only intricate scene. I was standing in the middle of a jungle in the moonlight and the fear that arose in my chest was so overpowering that I turned to run back inside.
Oomph!
I ran straight into something solid and warm, my eyes lifting upward as I recognized the outline of a man’s chest in the pale light. My breath flew out of my chest as I lowered my hand over my heart.
“Gosh, you scared the piss out of me!” I murmured as I stepped back.
My eyes widened upon realizing that this dude was ginormous—an overly tall male with long dreadlocks that had some sort of feathered beads laced throughout them.
Upon closer inspection, though, I noticed that he wore a large wooden mask that covered the entirety of his face and I wondered if maybe the feathering was a part of his headdress.
It had to be a movie. Nothing else made sense. I lifted my hand and sucked in a breath as I waved at him.
“Hi, um, it’s really nice to see someone else,” I said.
The man tilted his head and sniffed slightly. I stepped back and glanced around the clearing, noticing that there were several carcasses of some sort of large fish—and all the muck that went with cleaning them—strewn about as if he had been working on preparing the meat.
“Ichtis fitocka,” the male mumbled in a strange manner. I quirked a brow.
“Say what? I’m sorry, but…uh…I only took a little bit of French and English is my first language,” I said, suddenly regretting having not learned other languages.
The male shook his head and pointed in front of me. As I whirled around, I realized he was pointing at the fish meat that he had already prepared. I shook my head.
“No, I cannot eat anything like that,” I said. He stepped forward and pointed again, lifting a piece as he held it out to me.
“Ichtis fitocka.” Once again, he repeated the same strange phrase.
I pursed my lips, considering that whatever ichtis fitocka meant was relevant to my eating the food offered. This had to be a movie and this guy had to be an actor. I shook my head and sighed.
“Look, I don’t know exactly what is going on here but I honestly feel like something is a little off,” I said as the lightning flashed over my head. I visibly winced and clutched my eyes closed for a moment. “Gosh! What is it with these storms lately?” I asked.
The male shook his head and walked back toward the cave’s entrance, pointing at it.
“Yeah, it does seem like the best idea right now with this crap going on, but being in there in the musty dark alone is kind of maddening,” I said.
The man grunted and pointed at the cave once more.
“Alright. Okay. I got it. You must really take your job seriously—are you A list or B list?” I asked with a chuckle as I
walked back toward the cave’s entrance.
I wasn’t sure if he was trying to keep me dry and out of the elements or if I had offended him by refusing to eat the food he’d offered me.
Whatever this movie was, I sure hoped that my being here didn’t disrupt things too much. But having lived in Los Angeles for so long, I knew that on occasion things did get a little whacky where filmmaking was concerned.
It was part of the glitz and glory of being in the City of Angels, even if my mother considered it the City of the Lost.
“Opo litan.” The male nodded at me, grunting again with a strange insistence.
“Opo litan? What are you talking about? Is that Samoan?” I asked, perking a brow as I tried to place the odd sound of his language. “Are you Hawaiian or Polynesian?”
The male pointed at the cave entrance and nodded.
“Opo litan!” His eyes widened as he repeated the statement for a third time—this time his tone sounded more like an order, or command, than a suggestion.
I pursed my lips and gave another nod.
“Okay, okay, I’m going,” I muttered as the thunder boomed behind me yet again.
The trembling of the earth beneath my feet after the thunder rolled came as much more of a surprise. I fell to the ground and covered my head.
“Earthquake! Hurry, cover your head!” I muttered, pulling my legs up toward my chest as I balled myself up on the ground.
The man tilted his masked face slightly and shook his head, bending down as he pulled me from the ground and into his arms and began walking back toward the cave.
“Wait, what are you doing?” I asked, as the ground once again trembled.
The man, however, did not seem to move an inch as he made a direct line for the safety of the cave. As we walked within the stone walls, he lowered me to my feet and walked to the fire, lifting a log and tossing it atop it as he looked back at me.
“Okay, this is getting really strange but I have to admit that I am glad I’m somewhere safe—and not alone, as weird as that sounds.” I sighed as I looked back at him.
