The scent of drenched earth, rotting loam. The elegant sweep of a dangling vine, the stencilled, dark veins on a stretching leaf. The dappled light that drips through the gaps between trees. The jungle alive. It surrounds you with fragrance, with colour, with sound. Sounds, oh the sounds! Sounds which stun you, disorientate you, send you stumbling, reeling, dizzy with shock!
One such sound was Kari's voice. A voice deep, rich and velvety as strong coffee. A profound melody which weaves and dodges its way through the woods and pulls you nearer, draws you in with fascination.
Atlana had been so drawn to him. She was wont to skip through the woods.
'Find a husband.' Her parents had admonished her. 'Find one or you will end up alone and aged.'
She had not cared much. She had shrugged her delicate, brown shoulders and drawn her chestnut hair as a curtain between herself and the outside world. And yet, that very day her heart had been pierced by the resonant arrow of sound emanating from, it seemed, Kari's very soul.
Kari too was young. He was well-built, sinewy and tall. The other village girls never dared to come near him, though. There was something lurking and unapproachable in those deep eyes. Something predatorial in that chiselled face. His fingertips were leathery and worn from handling his hunting tools. My, was he a good hunter! Even the village elders stood in awe of his skill and dexterity- and he knew it. He strode the jungle with ease and quiet pride. Yes, a haughty one, was Kari. He liked solitude. Only in the verdant auditorium would he sing out, casting a web of charm, a sonorous trap.
Atlana's heart quickened.
'How can one capable of producing such beauty be left alone?' she breathed.
Her footsteps led her, as in a dream, towards the little clearing where Kari crouched low, humming his insiduous tune. The blood burned in her veins, she was terrified and yet attracted to his strength.
Those arms could crush you in an embrace. Those hands could bruise you. Those heels could kick you. That careless, clumsy mind could destroy you.
The trees gossiped in a gentle zephyr. The white, snowy blossoms shivered. The orchestra of the jungle fell silent and the tanned soloist ended his performance. His call.
Atlana stood before him- entranced. Kari straightened himself to his full height. He would take her. She would be his. Her docile eyes, her easily crushable spirit would entertain him a while. But that earnest gaze would soon kindle his temper. Her continuous, doting affections would irritate his temperamental humour. He encircled her waist in a vice-like embrace. They left the jungle and walked back to the village. The elders were waiting.
Back in the jungle, the green marquee was filled with cries of terror and anguish. A tiger had just pounced on its prey, and the blood trickled down in a rivulet. A butterfly dropped dead overhead.
Copyright © 2008 Rob Richardson. All Rights Reserved.