Ariel

ARIEL

Like a dry, open range suddenly cast ablaze, Ariel streaked toward safety. It's rider gripped tightly, and prayed that death would not come in this manner, at this time. Ironically, the ending had to be her choice, at her wish. Sylvia had too little control of too many things, only she should choose the time to die!

Nostrils flared, the horse galloped unimpeded through wooded groves and open field. Sylvia's grip weakened, but she clung to Ariel...and prayed. Soon the horse arrived at the Hughes' home. Sylvia released her grip and fell awkwardly to the ground, frightened, but unharmed.

Nerves heightened, she ran into the house. Eyes wide and penetrating, she shouted for her husband. Ted, looked out of his office door, where he was typing a manuscript. Though familiar with Sylvia's mood swings, he didn't understand them.

"It was frightening Ted, Ariel got spooked and I began to slip off, he nearly threw me. I thought I was going to fall, that i would die, but I managed to hold on until he brought me home!"

Ted rose from his desk and came to the hallway and stood before Sylvia,

"My God, Sylvia, are you okay? Were you hurt? Should I call a doctor? You really must be careful dear, you're always so careless."

There was no answer; Sylvia turned and quickly walked to her study, and in a moment, Ted heard the clicking keys of a typewriter.

Stasis in darkness.
Then the substanceless blue
Pour of tor and distances. +

Fire and Air

That night, Sylvia had a dream:

Sylvia walked alone along a dimly lit street. She suddenly saw a homeless man in an alley; just an ordinary bum who'd been rolled and left to die. She instinctively grabbed for Ted's hand, but of course he wasn't there. She looked around but did not call out his name. She wished he was with her, and yet....

She walked up to the man and looked down; unconscious, he breathed slowly. She looked closely, he had a serious face of mature years with long, matted, silver hair. He wore a dirty, shabby cloak of rainbow colors that seemed to flash and glow under the street lamp.

She tentatively bent down and shook the man, he slowly gained consciousness and opened his eyelids. His violet eyes, now wide open, seemed to bear a sorrow that engulfed Sylvia in its gaze.

"Sir, are you okay....can I help you?'

He didn't speak, but nodded to her first question and shook his head to the second.

Not knowing what to do next, all she could think to say was,

"What's your name?"

"Ariel" he spoke in a frail but soothing voice.

Sylvia bent down and put her right hand out. Ariel clasped her hand with both hands and tried to rise, but was unable. The cloak fell from his shoulders and he slumped to the pavement, his fragile, naked, upper back exposed. Sylvia's attention was drawn to two palm sized extrusions projecting from each side of his shoulder blades. Dried blood covered these apparently amputated appendages, and she instinctively reached to toward them, but stopped, afraid.

Seeing her concern Ariel slowly lift an arm and she took his and into hers. I sudden jolt of energy coursed through her. Flashes of images at a rate too fast to completely crasp. Pictures of pain and suffering, of victims and defeat. She pulled her hand away and looked into the eyes of this fallen creature. None of the violence that had flashed before her could be seen; just sorrow and heartache.

She then looked toward heaven, and wanted to cry out, but knew that her words would not be heard¦not now.

She looked toward Ariel and asked, "Why?"
He looked up; struggled with his words and replied,

"He did not fall¦.He walks¦among us."

And then he slumped back to the pavement and said no more.

Jerusalem

Sylvia awoke, her heart beat furiously. Emotions heightened, she shook from the frightfulness of the dream. She remained still, trying to make sense of the nightmare. She then quietly rose, so as not to wake Ted and went into the study. She began to type furiously, adding to the lines from her dream:

White
Godiva, I unpeel ---
Dead hands, dead stringencies. +

As she typed, the wind whipped against the shutters creating a ghostly murmur that set the mood for her progress. Everyone said it was going to be a harsh winter and the Hughes's were not rich; the next few months would not be an easy time. She rose from her sitting position and went to the hall closet for a robe. It was just an old, worn, beige thing that Ted had given her on their first wedding anniversary. For a fleeting moment however, she thought it had sparkled under the dim lighting of the hallway. She put on the robe and walked back into the study. She slowly paced about the room and thought about her ride, the dream and the portent of the howling wind. She was glad that Ted still slept, he just never understood these moments¦she preferred being alone.

+The poetry segments quoted (in italics) in this story are from, Ariel by Sylvia Plath from her collection of the same name.