What I saw was a face as pitiful as my own, as ugly as black lava, cooled, dull, cracked, and void of life. As soon as I looked into the eyes, white, colorless, and as blind as mine, I knew we had found another survivor.
We were few and most of us were now dead. Whatever the plague that spread upon the winds, it acted with surety, killing off almost all mammals, and those of us who lived, well, we weren’t sure we were the lucky ones.
Our skin became swollen, and thick, like elephant hide. Then stiff and black, and cracked whenever we moved. The cracks bled, raw nerves exposed to the air, the dust, the dirt, and, I suppose, more plague. Were we now immune? We didn’t care.
We no longer distinguished gender among ourselves. We walked south, a band of hideous nightmares. We ate seeds and berries, and whatever roots and leaves we could pull with our swollen, cracked hands.
Our eyes changed. I did not study the right courses in school, but I think we saw in infrared, though I’m not sure. We saw heat. I found a book, but could not see the words, I could barely turn the pages with my swollen and dead fingers. I have no idea how long I cried, for I had loved reading.
Speech became too difficult. We communicated by grunts and groans. We had slipped further back than the earliest hominids.
There were twenty-three in our band. Twenty-three out of how many thousands, millions, who had lived here? There were no small animals, at least not that I saw. Had the whole world been infected? How many billions had died?
Only mammals seemed affected. We heard birds, and reptiles, and insects. The reptiles became hard to see due to their cold-bloodedness. But we heard them swishing over the rocks and through the leaves.
We hobbled south on our stiffening legs and feet. Winter would come, and if we were to have a chance to survive, we needed to be someplace warmer. We could no longer build shelters, nor fires. And we didn’t want to go into the homes of the old ones. It was too hard to see the bodies, and then the skeletons. So we agreed to stay outside, and to walk, or stumble, to the south, where we hoped to find… what? Warmth? Life? Death?
What I saw was a face as pitiful as my own, as ugly as what the Preacher Man used to call sin. The face was on a small body, a child, perhaps? How had a child survived? She could no longer talk, either. She, I called her a she, named her, in my mind, Jewel, but she could easily be a he. She came to us, held out her hands, or what passed for hands, and touched each of us in turn. I felt a tingle at the touch. Not pain. That was the first touch since the plague that did not bring pain.
So Jewel joined us as we continued south; toward the warmth, toward the Gulf of Mexico. The warmth brought relief, but the rains brought pain. We used what we could for shelter, but it wasn’t much. Water got into the raw cracks in our lava skin. We moaned, a few screamed. Two of us died. Jewel did not seem too bothered by either the rains or the deaths.
We found no more survivors. Twenty-two of us reached the shore of the Gulf. It must have been winter, as the weather was warm, but not hot. It had not rained in days, or maybe weeks. Ever since the Plague, nothing was the same. I had no idea of time. If it was light, I walked. If it was dark, I tried to sleep. And now we were at the shore of the Gulf. Birds flew and screamed overhead. Hot spots that sounded like gulls, but I don’t know.
We stood on the sand, and Jewel made a funny sound, almost a laugh. She ran, at least I think it was a run, and again came up and touched each of us. She put her hands up, and bent our heads to hers. We touched foreheads and this time, there was no tingle. This time, only pain, as I had to bend. Then, as quickly as she touched her head to mine, she moved on to the next. As the last of us moaned at the pain of bending to placate a child, a child who still found and brought joy, she turned and ran into the water. She screamed once, as she dove under the warm water.
And we all followed. We had no choice. We walked into the water, and as we dove under it, we too screamed. Never had I felt such a burning. I would die, but knew this death would be better than living as a lava man.
My skin felt funny. It burned, but in a good way, like scrubbing years of filth off with a new loufa sponge. I opened my eyes, and could see perfectly underwater. I saw my friends, and the black, swollen skin we had suffered so long, floated off us in the gentle currents. There was a sting as pieces floated away, and then we saw our new skin, not the human flesh to which we were used, but scales–brightly colored–mine were blue and green, Jewel was yellow and orange. We were living rainbows.
What I saw was a face as surprised as my own, as full of wonder as mine. What I saw were my twenty-one friends, free and beautiful as we cavorted in the slanting rays of the dying sun as they pierced the blue green sea.
Lenora Rain-Lee Good lives in Southeast Washington State. She writes memoir, fiction, and radio plays. She also quilts, is an avid photographer, tells bad jokes, and is a connoisseur of fine naps. Her work has appeared in Origami Condom, Periphery Online (with her sister, Marjorie Rommel), The Writer’s Eye, Beyond Centauri (upcoming), and Grit Magazine. She has had two radio dramas produced and aired.
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17 Responses to “A PITIFUL FACE • by Lenora Rain-Lee Good”
Comments
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September 24th, 2008 at 4:00 am
Just beautiful. Puts me in mind of a lot of stuff that came out of the New Wave in the early 70s.
September 24th, 2008 at 5:40 am
Beautiful, no other word for this story! Also very post apocalyptic.
September 24th, 2008 at 6:13 am
A rare jewel. The imagery, emotions and reactions were gorgeously written. Thanks for sharing (and forgive the pun.)
September 24th, 2008 at 6:26 am
Very descriptive… Honestly, I almost stopped reading because it was so well-described that it was grossing me out, but I’m glad I hung in there because the ending was worth it.
September 24th, 2008 at 6:44 am
A reminder in new zone to explore our basic instincts to live, to care for ourselves and others, to explore, to listen to our basic instincts and recognize wisdom in a child.
Lenora’s imagination and story telling ability is compelling as she gripes our curiosity, holds our interest and never disappoints her reader. Congratulations and thanks you Lenora. Muriel
September 24th, 2008 at 7:57 am
Fantastic. Who would vote this less than a five?
September 24th, 2008 at 8:11 am
A lovely piece! I tried writing something like this years ago and wasn’t half as good as this.
September 24th, 2008 at 9:31 am
Gorgeous and compelling. I didn’t know where the people were going to end up, but I knew they had something in store for them. Good that they could shed their skin. I love this story.
September 24th, 2008 at 11:37 am
Excellent mood piece, a prose poem. Exemplary in how each word contributes to the whole.
More!
September 24th, 2008 at 11:50 am
Great story, Lenora. I love how the careful phrasing adds to the sad tone and the narrator’s character. Great shift at the end from suffering to a beautiful, new life. Thanks for sharing!
September 24th, 2008 at 12:09 pm
Excellent! The plot was in now way sacrificed to the vivid imagery and the beautiful language.
I wanted to cry along with the protagonist when he realized reading was no longer possible…
September 24th, 2008 at 12:20 pm
I greatly appreciate your supportive comments about A Pitiful Face. It is gratifying to learn my imagery can evoke emotion, but please, if you are brought to tears, move back from your keyboard;-)
September 24th, 2008 at 12:48 pm
Wonderful story, very imaginative. If any fisherman are reading this, throw back those rainbow fish. Do it now!
September 24th, 2008 at 1:44 pm
Tense. A struggling protagonist. A refreshing ending provides the reader with relief. Love it.
September 24th, 2008 at 4:17 pm
As difficult for me to read as was C.MacCarthy’s THE ROAD. Post-apocalyptic settings are haunting, and Ms.Good’s piece evokes such a situation. I am always relieved when I stay with one of her stories because she never fails to leave me with the possibility of….a rainbow.
September 24th, 2008 at 4:37 pm
I didn’t see what was coming until the very end. Kind of a Bradbury Haiku. Nice!
September 27th, 2008 at 11:32 pm
Excellent.