Stranger Ideas

A figure has just appeared on the town green. The green that is sometimes called the town square or maybe something else. Not very many towns have something like that. Amherst, Massachusetts, perhaps, but not very many more. Parking lots have taken over most towns, or there are stores with no justification for being there.

The figure makes no attempt to hide, but it also walks among the stands at the outdoor farmers' market on the green, apparently unnoticed. People are busy buying local produce and discussing a variety of topics. They don't mind if there is a newcomer in their midst, but in this case they don't seem to even notice.

The figure is wearing boots of some shade. The boots are not black, gray, or brown, but some other color. They might be tall, nearly reaching the knee, but that is not readily obvious. They also might be fairly short. They are the suggestion of boots rather than a clear image. It is the time of year when footwear in the town could be anything, because it is not hot summer nor is it really cold. Besides, the market-goers and the vendors are the type who mind their own business. Boots are not part of that business.

Lavinia was wandering among the vendors, considering which stand had the most appealing carrots and which offered the best tomatoes for what she was planning to make for supper. She knew nothing would taste quite the same as what she had eaten while in Europe, but she wasn't trying to be overly critical and knew she would eventually find something she liked. That didn't mean she didn't miss Europe, its food, and more than anything, its people.

When Lavinia looked across the expanse of green grass, past the people there, she wondered if she was the only person who could see the person. If so, that would mean it was not anybody real and she was just missing what she had left behind. She had never expected that to happen. It worried her.

Why couldn't anybody else see the stranger? That thought made her stop and stare, even though she tried not to be obvious about it. She wondered:

What did the stranger want? It didn't seem to be looking for anything or anybody in particular.

Who was it? And was it a man or a woman? There was no characteristic that defined its gender. It was neither tall nor short. It did not have a specific shape. Its clothing revealed nothing. It did seem to be human, but that was about everything Lavinia could see.

She let the figure come closer, very slowly, as if working against time. It seemed to have focused on her, although she realized it could still be her imagination. Its steps were slow, deliberate, but not threatening. There was nothing heavy in its movement, and she was not afraid. Why should she be? There was only that worried feeling.

Finally the figure drew near and began to speak. None of the other people in the outdoor market noticed, and why should they? The figure spoke softly, and it still seemed as if nobody had noticed its presence. It introduced itself as Ith, or Cav, and still nothing revealed its gender. The voice was undefined as male or female, and the face, while attractive in some way, could have been that of a man or a woman. There was really nothing upsetting about that, Lavinia thought.

Ith, or Cav, wore a garment that resembled a cape but was really a loose-fitting coat, quite elegant, and let it swirl in the light breeze that was beginning to flow. Lavinia thought that movement of the cloth was very attractive, but nobody else seemed to notice. It was like a form on a stage or in a painting, and really did not have to define itself. The rhythm was enough to justify its presence.

Nevertheless, Lavinia wondered if she should in fact be afraid - afraid of the stranger or afraid she was losing her mind. It would have been different if others had noticed, but she still seemed to be the only one. At least she had refrained from speaking to the stranger, so nobody would think she was crazy.

Ith then came very, very close and shifted its outer garment by raising its arms so the fabric caught the breeze and encircled Lavinia, who had not moved. She said and did nothing, allowing herself to be cocooned by Ith (Cav) and almost comforted. She had already decided that the stranger might be unusual, but was not dangerous.

That did not mean she knew what to do.

What happened then was unexpected: she extended her hands slightly, not consciously, and the tips of her fingers disappeared. That did not stop her. She let her hands continue to move forward and continue to disappear, as if sinking into Ith or Cav, sensing nothing - not pain nor heat nor cold. 

It is obvious what happened at that point. Lavinia moved forward as if Ith were a magnet and was taken in by the lovely stranger with the appearance of non-existence. No description was possible (as far as she was concerned) and none was requested or necessary. Lavinia had been at the farmers' market and then for some unknown reason she wasn't. Like a poem that is read beautifully and then ends, she was no longer. Well, she was, but she had become something different, a silence that could be remembered but not mourned. Yes, like a poem.

At that point Cav moved on, apparently knowing that there was something to be done, something that needed thinking, and speaking. Something that needed to happen, and to change. Lavinia, who was all-absorbed, would be part of all that. Lavinia no longer belonged - not really - to the town with the pleasant green and the people buying vegetables, fruits, bread, and cheeses. 

She had become a mysterious stranger who was invisible to the people who moved around her tending to their daily affairs. People didn't see her anymore, didn't know who she was. She needed to move to another place, one where people understood the language she spoke, could read her thoughts, walk with her. To where people would be able to see her boots, their true color, and would know the meaning of her name without her having to tell them.

If you, dear reader, are saddened by this short story, please think otherwise. This is only the beginning. There is much more to come.