The Beast and The Stone Shaman

The Shaman watched with wide eyes as leaves were thrown from the branches above. Two beasts were quaking the ground before him with their combat, splattering red across the green and brown of the forest floor. One of them, a wolf, lunged for the Shaman’s body, eager to taste his flesh, foaming at the mouth and snapping his jaws. The other monster he couldn’t see as clearly. It sunk his claws deep into the bowels of the wolf. A deep howl beamed from the conclusion of the battle, abruptly cut off by the snapping of vertebrae. A different sound rang out and upward towards the setting sun. If the Shaman wasn’t willing to believe his eyes then his ears would indeed confirm that it was in fact a man crying out in victory. The mass of hulking muscle and rage tore deeper into the flesh of his kill and rubbed his face over and over until it was crimson. His eyes fell out of their lustful rolling and focused in on the Shaman. The air was thicker than the hide of the deceased.

“Do you happen to speak my language?” The Shaman spoke firmly.

The beast of a man rose from his hunched position over the carcass, looking down his nose to maintain eye contact with the Shaman from his seat at the base of a tree

“Indeed I do. And very well I might add.” The foliage reverberated with the depth of his voice.

“That dialect is quite fashioned for a beast of the wilderness. Where are you from?” The Shaman’s gaze bore into the Beast like a star into the night. He was covered from head to toe with scars and wounds of all sorts. Oddly enough he wore modern shorts, as though he was a lost hiker. Perhaps a loin cloth would’ve been too cliche.

“That is none of your concern. I will be going now, Wise One.”

The Shaman's laugh bounced like a rubber ball about the dirt and the insects around them.

“What has caused you to believe I have enough wisdom for a name like that?”

“During the entirety of my battle you moved not an inch. Even when you were lunged at you did not reek of fear. Either you knew of my victory or you have knowledge which frees you from the fear of death. Wisdom is present in either scenario.”

“Are you wise my friend?”

The question eroded the Beast’s desire to leave. He chuckled, a sound that could’ve been mistaken for a growling tiger.

“No.”

The final bit of sunshine had dissipated into nothingness and the crickets began singing their nightly song. The Shaman tilted his face to the sky, and a vibrant light stirred his soul when he saw the stars looking back. A small grin was painted across his face when he spoke again.

“I have to disagree with you there. I don’t believe wisdom can come from one who is not wise.”

“But surely this is your first time meeting a wise man that paints his face with blood, yes?” The Shaman allowed his eyes to drift slowly from the beauty of the sky back to meet the gaze of the Beast. The shadows of the night had grown up and over the tower of flesh but all the darkness in space couldn’t hide the glimmer of the smile that the Beast wore.

“Your sense of humor is quite comforting. Why is it that you wear blood?”

The Beast briefly glanced towards the balls of fire sprinkled across the black above.

“Why is it that you revel in looking at the stars Wise One?”

A light silence grew between them again as the Shaman pondered the question. The Beast’s curiosity lowered his body to the ground and he sat, although the Shaman felt that his head had come no closer to the ground. His neck still craned upward at the Beast, almost in awe at the way the dried blood seemed to form a ruby haze that his eyes floated amongst.

“Because they remind me of a truth I had once forgotten. And they remind me of the vow I took to never forget that truth again.”

A cricket leapt onto the Beast and chirped while he waited for the Shaman to elaborate. He didn’t. The Beast guided the cricket onto his finger and set him gently onto a blade of grass. Flies had discovered the mutilated wolf and began a low buzzing as they fed.

“Then my answer is the same. Although I am a man of civilization I once forgot the truth that within me are emotions that existed before man was a being. Feelings of raw archaic desire that began with the plant’s desire to live and was cultivated by the animal’s desire to thrive and evolve. To survive. To protect.”

The Shaman’s eyes grew wide in response, so much so that the Beast could have sworn there were two white suns beaming at him.

“It didn’t begin with the plant’s desire to live.”

Confusion furrowed the Beast’s brow. The Shaman continued.

“It began with the stars’ desire to shine. That desire is what allowed the birth of the plant's desire to live, as without the Sun there are no plants. There are no animals. There is no reason to remember.”

The Beast looked over at the carcass being overrun by flies. An owl call floated through the tops of the trees as his thoughts turned.

“Then it could not have begun with the stars Wise One.”

Confusion leapt from the brow of the Beast to the brow of the Shaman.

“Do continue my friend.”

“From what I understand, all desire is but a step into more desire. My desire to cast off society and stay close to the truth of blood led me to stalk this wolf. This wolf’s desire to quench the hunger in his stomach led him to stalk you. In turn, our battle led to these flies having food and to us having this conversation.”

“Why does this mean that it couldn’t have started with the stars?”

The Beast slowly turned his head back to the white hot eyes of the Shaman and flashed a full smile that almost made the crickets stop chirping, for they were nearly tricked into thinking it was daytime again.

“Because Wise One… something must've desired the stars to shine too before they were born, no?”

The Shaman erupted into laughter. He stood up and leaned against the base of the tree with his belly jiggling from the giggling. The Beast laughed with him, like thunder from a lightning storm did his joy blast into the atmosphere. The Shaman almost felt pinned to the tree by the force, and yet it only made him laugh harder. Both wiped tears from their cheeks as their cacophony of humor slowly died down. The crickets’ jealousy waned as silence overtook the forest and their song was again the loudest to be heard. The Shaman was the first to speak.

“I’m going to tell you something my friend. Something I’ve told no one before in my long life.”

His vision dove into the red tint that held the Beast’s eyes once more, before staring back into the sky.

“I am a traveler of time. Not just in the spirit through meditation, but physically. I hail from a time far in the past, from a people much less educated and yet much more in tune with all that is. Or so I used to think.”

The Shaman fixed his gaze into the eyes of the Beast and held it there. He continued.

“You remind me of my people. I was enamored by their wisdom of the natural and cosmic nature, yet I was disgusted by their appetite for war amongst neighboring tribes and for their… desire… to conquer and rule over land that truly belonged to no one. I left them behind for a life in the caves as a hermit. As I fell deeper and deeper into my meditations I began to… desire… to see something different. I desired to see a people that weren’t slaves to the impulse towards war, greed, and archaic things of that nature. I hope you don’t find offense, as I know you said earlier that this is the truth that blood connects you to.”

“I take no offense at all Wise One. Please finish regaling me with your history.”

The Beast was so willed to stillness by his interest in the Shaman that the leaves floating from the trees lie on his shoulders and in his lap undisturbed. More crickets found their way onto his body but he felt no need to move them.

“I stayed in a meditative state for three days without moving, eating, or sleeping. Only pondering my feelings over and over until I felt myself transported, as if pulled through a hole in the universe. I awoke in this time period in a hospital bed, unable to understand the language and technology of the humans that surrounded me. That was twenty years ago. I took my time to learn English. I learned of cars. I learned of plumbing, I learned of television. That was 10 years ago. I’ve also learned that even the cosmos has a sense of humor, because coming here only further taught me that there may never be a time when man is ruled by the archaic. These people are no different than the ones I sought to escape. Violent monsters with human faces. Since I realized this I cast off my created identity and came here.”

For the first time since their meeting, the Beast watched the Shaman’s neck give way. His head drooped toward the ground and the fire in his eyes was snuffed out by the darkness that surrounded them.

Crakooom!

The Shaman was certain that the Beast had spoken but it was lightning striking and sending thunder thrashing about the whole of the jungle. Rain dripped from the inky blot of clouds spilling their way across the sky, swallowing up the sight of the stars and deepening the darkness of the night. A small shower began and both men sat with their lips sealed. The Beast brought his hands to his face and rubbed the smears of blood away. With the drops exploding over everything in sight it was nigh impossible for either of them to be heard. The Shaman motioned for his friend to follow him and the Beast rose once again, trailing behind and shaking the trees and he stomped to keep up with the Shaman’s quick pace. They came upon a cave in the cliffside and the Shaman led the Beast further towards the back so that they could continue their conversation. Glowing torches pulsate a bright orange dance of light across the walls, and the two men each grab one to hold and dry off with as they lower their butts to the ground.

“This is where I do my meditations and lay my head at night.” The Shaman couldn’t help but notice how different the Beast looked by the light of the fire. His face appeared kinder than he could see when it was clouded by the ruby haze. His gaze was sharpened by resoluteness and understanding. Certainly not the eyes of a Beast that bathes in blood.

“Wise One I must tell you the truth. I believe you are a coward and that if your ability still works that it would be best for you to return to your people.”

The Shaman broke eye contact and looked down to watch the shadows flicker across the rocky ground. The Beast continued.

“I hope you are not offended. I say so because meeting you has made me realize my own cowardice. And since you were willing to share your story with me, I’ll share mine in turn. I ended up here because I took the life of a man that tried to murder my son. My desire to protect my family and my fear of loss pushed me to a part of myself I’d never imagined I’d have to face. I’d do it again for the likes of my son. Is that archaic and violent to you, Wise One? Are these the emotions that disgusted you from your people?”

The cackling of the fire and the cracking of the sticks answered in place of the Shaman. He didn’t lift his eyes from the floor, only wrapping his arms around his legs as he folded them against his chest in response.

“All wars aren’t waged in the name of evil. But my family didn’t agree with my actions. The places I applied to work were all too afraid of me and refused me employment. Slowly people wondered if I’d snap again. Even my son became afraid of being alone with me. I realized it’s because they’ve never had to make the choice. And I forgave them for that. But I could not forgive myself for the pain wrought from standing alone in the matter even though it was the right thing to do. So I left to live somewhere I could face that pain. Or so I had convinced myself. Now I see that the truth is more severe. I’m too much of a coward to prove them wrong and become something more. I was too much of a coward.”

The Shaman finally lifted his gaze and peered once again into the windows of the Warrior’s soul. He tried to put himself in the circumstance. He closed his eyes and imagined fighting a man over his child. His soul left his body a tingling mass of flesh as it blasted out through his heart and out of his mind. The Shaman realized that he didn’t have the courage to be patient with a woman and beget a child. A resentment of the world salted the waters of his soul. No matter how he tried, the Warrior’s feelings were as distant and foreign to him as he was from his own time. The Warrior didn’t wait for a response.

“I’m going back to society. I’m going to start somewhere different of course. But I don’t want to run from the man I’ve become. I don’t think you should run from your people. Go back. Give them your wisdom instead of judging them. Be something that changes what you hate instead of becoming it.”

The Warrior rose and placed his torch back into its spot on the wall. Without another word he walked toward the mouth of the cave to leave. The Shaman bounced with each of the Warrior’s steps until only the sound of the flames eating the wooden torches could be heard.

The nearest town that he knew of was a seven day trip counting the time spent camping through the night and stopping to find food. He began his trek down the mountain, and all the while had the urge to return to the Shaman. He continued on, bearing his acquaintance in mind nonetheless.

On the fourth day of his trip, the Warrior awoke with the memory of a dream. Pulling his face from the forest floor and propping his massive back against the trunk of a tree, he leaned side to side stretching his back muscles. Birds chirped, zipping this way and that through the blue sheet of atmosphere above the tops of the trees.

The Shaman was in the memory. It was as if the Warrior were a spirit in the sky, watching the sun complete its cycle over the mass of lush vegetation. It had risen and set three times. His spirit flew down into the trees through the branches, seemingly of its own accord, until he arrived inside of the Shaman’s cave. There was a statue there, one that looked like the Wise One. The Warrior’s vision was forced narrow by the beams of light radiating from the eyes of the statue. He could've sworn they were two white suns. It was carved of stone and sitting cross legged. The Warrior rested his weight on his knee and wrapped his fingers around the shoulder of the Stone Shaman. A voice boomed about him, so mighty that his body was sent cannonballing out the mouth of the cave. He had no trouble recognizing it.

“Thank you, my friend.”