Issue 13
Sage
Allen McGill
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Reverence
"It is called 'race-memory' now," he hears the old man say. The voice is deep, almost inaudible over the fire crackling between them. Wavering light dances across the ancient's face, deepening the creases and folds, brightening the tufts of white hair.
"So it is said, wise one," the young man responds, unwilling. He struggles, heart racing, but is unable to keep his eyes from the flames. "By those who don't believe in the Old Ones' power."
They sit cross-legged and naked in the heart of the sacred Anasazi sweat house. Steam and smoke combine to exhaust the oxygen, intensifying the heat. Soon, the old man withdraws a handful of dust from a leather pouch, tosses it into the air above the fire. Flecks of every hue sparkle and spit, suspended in the rising heat to expand, illuminate.
"Look closely at the lights," the young man hears. "Breath deeply of their scent, for they embody the wisdom of the Old Ones -- the addictive, incurable desire to learn. When you will leave, you will be compelled to absorb knowledge, to the exclusion of all else."
Dreams of youth fade from the young man's mind -- he begins to understand.
~Allen McGill
Originally from NYC, Allen lives, writes, acts and directs theatre in Mexico. His published fiction, non-fiction, poetry, plays, etc., have appeared in print as well as online. Email.
© 2003 by Allen McGill. All Rights Reserved.
© Copyright 2003 by Cayuse Press. All Rights Reserved.