And the world rests silent.

Once there was a world of machines, of bright lights that shone and of towers that were tall and scraped the blue sky. Then the world changed. It happened overnight; many, many, seasons ago. The story told to us is that Shi-ai the great sky God became angry at the world of man, and she wanted to silence the world of tall towers, shining lights and metal machines. So She blew a silent wind from her lips, that are as black as a raven’s wing; and in that breath split the world into three. A world of darkness where shades, or half people flow in great numbers. They come into this world to roam in the shadows of the tall forests, or the crumbling places of stone and glass where the vines grow tall. Sometimes they come, when the tribe is on the move, during the changes of the seasons, to battle and to feed upon our young or our feeble. But we are strong and keep the faith. allowing the Angels into our homes, and protect us when we are at our hunting grounds. Then there is the world of light. In this world the Angels live, And in the light of day rise the Angels; who seem like us, but shine with a golden glare that those who’ve guilt in their spirit find hard to face. They come to give comfort and guidance but at a price, that some say the tribe can no longer afford. But I know they see things differently. Time for the Angels is different, they know the future. I am sure of it. Though it is hard to prove.
I am Asshia, the eldest daughter of Shi’Hani and the Grand-daughter of the tibes great elder Shooni Ha’ Wai we are off to see her now. Soon I will have to go through the change, where body blood flows and pain comes. In this time the man-slaves, seem more attractive to us, and once or twice, those of the high tribe find ourselves being won by them; but my inner family is strong, known in law and held in high esteem. My mother fears that I might go the way of my ill-educated cousin Kha’li, who was deemed, cursed for her feelings, so she took her man-slave and ran to the high plains never to be seen again. But I am no Man-lover. I know contact is only for religious purposes. For the birth of the infant, beyond that, they have no purpose than to serve the tribe. Hunting is for the brave woman. The man builds the home. My mother and I now ride north, through the valleys towards the resting place of my grand-mother -the tribe elder- whose been on a sacred ancient quest. We ride at night, and have no fear, for an Angel flies silently with us. We are climbing upon the great mountains that rise higher to the east. Our horses click and clack, upon the white stone ground; the moon curled like a finger nail rests low in the heaven; rising above the distant western mountains beyond the plain. Sometimes small clumps of silver cloud bring the full dark of night. I smell sharp, fresh chill air and look up at the silver points in the sky. I see the pattern of Chi’ene and, knowing my great God mother is smiling upon me, making me feel safe. I look in front, and see my mother wrapped in the white twig thin skin fur of the wolf; it covers her shoulders. Her braided hair is as black as mine. Her two ankle bells chime, a bird, a hawk I think, silently curls overhead. I hope to get to the round-house soon; for I am getting tired and feeling hungry and something else is bothering me. I look to the west and down at the plain. An ancient place of tall towers rest’s there. From its thick green covering I can hear the terrifying murmuring of the shades… I shudder at their sound.

*

I am I making my way from the Village of my birth to meet my mother. I know her time is close… the elders had told me… So I had, to by way of initiation, to take my eldest child Asshia, with me to make my way by land of steel and weeds, the place of shades; to the high ground and the land of our lost mothers.
When I enter the round house, a large circular building made of cloth and covered with the ancient words of our forefathers, I am surprised to see how bright she looks. Her hair long, white and braided, was parted down the middle, and bound into long plats. Her bright face is a plump mask of wrinkles. That look more like mountain canyons In front of her, glows a huge fire, that she tends as she lays there, wrapped in the skins of the animals she has killed.
‘You made it?’ She begins. ‘Good, come here by the fire… I ‘have something to tell you…bout your Grandmother… my mother… I ‘ave a story about her and the last man…My mother met ‘im… she ‘ad to… At the time, she was young an ‘ad to grow up fast; cause she knew of the world of many people, big machines and bright lights that made the night as bright as day…’
I feel uncertain. The man has no right or role, what did she mean. Asshia sat next to me, upon the plump rich red cushions; I could see the uncertainty on her face. However, my mother continued as if nothing had taken place at all.
‘…She tol’ me she met ‘im because the one of Angel’s came an’ tol ‘er to seek ‘im out. But Oh, ‘ow she ‘ated the Angels! She ‘ated them as much as she feared the Shades. When the Angel came to her an’ tol;’ her to go and find ‘im, She she tol’ it she ‘ad no time for followin’ orders… but, then in the end she ‘ad no choice, cause she knew that the Angel’s are clever bastards… they plant dreams in peoples ‘eads if no one listens to ‘em… and with these dreams… they drives people mad… ‘
‘There, that’s it… stoke the fire and let’s get warm… we need the heat… an the light. ‘
‘My mother… your great grandmother… ahh, now she was a “lookun” like me in my time… all the village thought that of her. With her hair as dark an as silky as the great raven’s wing… it’s where we all get our hair from… that, and our long noses together with our round bright eyes. When she tol’ me the story, she was as old as I am now… an’ when I heard it I was as old as you are now… that’s how it goes… by initiation and word of mouth between mother and daughter… till the end of all things…’
‘The story goes, that he was old sick… death’s hand was ready for ‘im, but he fought off the shades, an made them pay; livin’ in a house with bright light shining out from the very walls themselves. In this place he lived a life as best as he could; She told me that he was once a clever man, a man who knew the ways of science and old magic; and that he had the power of the sun in his hands.’
‘So, she rode east from the settlement, with the magic power upon her horses back. Here she crossed the large black dusted plain and followed the old road, filled with the rusting machines with the dead bones insides them. By day she followed the dream, by night she protected herself, with the magic light until she reached the town where he lived.’
‘That morning, he had to feed the machines that gave ‘im the light he needed, afore making ‘is way to town and get some supplies. An’ that is where they met… In the dark, where the shades live. ‘
‘The shades… you know ‘bout those… they come by night, made of dark mist and dark, dark air, they spin and twist upon the livin’ and get their feed, by breathing their dark breath from their huge open mouths upon us… Though the light burns them, an keeps them away… Some say they are the lost of this world, trapped, never to leave their place… some say that of the Angels too… though… they have no need to feed... ‘
‘He was in the store when she arrived; and bein’ alone an afraid of the night for so long he was scared of what he saw, so he hid, near the rear of the shop in the dark. But a shade lived there. When it saw him, it wanted to feed upon ‘im. But your Grandmother, she was strong, and she came into the shop and with the magic power she brought with her, she sent it screamin’ and howlin’ burning off into the night. So, she brought ‘im out from the shop, and helped ‘im back to ‘is home. And there, in the front room, he gave her this message.’
“I’m dying.” He said. “But I have something that will one day make the world right once more…. Look up stairs…. There is a box… a heavy metal box… bring it to me.”
‘So she brings it down, an’ opens it. Inside there was a large piece of cloth, that was wrapped around somethin’ she could’nt identify. “take it out.” He said. So she did. It was long and heavy, and made of a strange metal.’
“This…” he begins “…needs to be taken to a place called Flat Rock…Nevada… There is a lift, you must take the lift down and enter a room called the portal. You must insert the key into the lock and press the red button…” He grappled her. “Do you understand?” and at that he passed…’
‘…So… now…my time is close… and it’s time to let go… bring me that box by the fire.’
So I picked up the box by the fire and placed it by her feet.
‘Open it.’ She said with a dark trepidation in her voice. I opened it, and found the same piece of sackcloth. I took off the sackcloth and saw a large metal pole which shone with a strange white light.
‘It has taken me most of my life to reach this place. But now I am too old and too sick to continue. You must finish the journey that my mother started… you must take the key to flat rock and make the world right again.’
‘Grandmother I don’t…’ I sound scared.
‘Understand?’ and at that she laughed.
‘Do any of us? We live in a world splintered into three; where Angels come and fill us with child, where Shades come and steal our young or our lives… I know I am close to Flat Rock… I have seen the place in my dreams… now you must finish what was started. And with that her spirit left her, like smoke on the wind.
That night I had the dream… the dream of the flat rock… I know that I am close… soon the world will be made right once more… soon the shades will be gone; and all our fears will finally be laid to rest. I arose and looked outside to the west, to see the fire of my grandmother’s bones… the time to end this is close… close… close… Asshia looks at me, and I can see her thoughts painted like glowing crystal clouds in the night. She is scared. I smile and hold her close, as the crescent moon is made pale by the glowing light of the golden dawn. I feel her hand in mine. I look down at her face, she still has the innocence about her, soon this will be gone… I wonder… is she ready? With love I take her hand and head towards the high hills and our destiny.

The end