Finding Home

It was dark here, in her glade. The moon hung high above in a sky the color of dark velvet. A tiny sliver of light suspended in a sea of tiny pin pricks, like a thousand candlelight vigils in the night.

She lay on her back, stretched over one of the limbs of her tree. The branch was soft and comfortable, as if molded to her back. It was summer here, the days stretching into forever but for her it was always the nights that brought her comfort, reminded her of her past and her old home far away from here and unreachable. She missed it sometimes, the world she knew, the smells of the engines and the metal. She had no idea that she would miss the smells of leather and of dust. Mostly though it was her family that she missed.

 She loved her family, her parents, and her brothers, but she had always felt different. Math, science, fact, all good solid knowledge was all that was deemed of value in her tight knit family cell, but she was made of other materials. She lived on dreams, fantasies, unrealities. She ate up fiction books the way starving people fell upon food, gorging herself until her eyes nearly shone with them. She would taste them, each kind of story a different flavor.

Science fiction tasted like lemon fizz, while romance tasted of strawberries and sunshine. Horror tasted like coppery tomato juice and high fantasy tasted of mead and honey. She savored them, appreciated them, wished with all her heart that she could live them.

 She had read and re-read every book she could get her hands on, finding hidden nooks and crannies around the house to hide her forbidden treasures. Then at night armed with the words that sustained her in the day, she would sneak out of the living quarters and sit beneath the moon. To dream, and speculate, to think beyond the short little snippets of fantastic lives and imagine that she could live there, instead of here. One night, much like this one, she had gotten her wish.

 When the portal had appeared before her, promising adventure, and a new life, she had run through, barely thinking of the consequence. Not imaging for a moment that it would be a one-way trip.

In all the stories she had ever read, the hero always found their way back home. That was always the goal. You got lost and you found your way back. She was different though. Had always been different. When she found herself in a glade, with singing orange flowers and air that tasted like mint. When she touched the dark blue grass and felt how soft and velvety it felt, she did not panic. She was elated.

It had taken some time to find some one to communicate with, some one to explain this strange new world that she found herself in. It took even longer to work out how to explain who she was and where she came from, since the people did not believe in speech. Only the animals could talk here.

In time she learned that the mint smell was the magic in the air, and she even learned to use it. Clumsily, at first, but with time and practice she gained proficiency. Once she figured out how to speak with out uttering a word life became easier. She found a place to live, and even figured out an occupation. She began ‘inventing’ things. Simple tools that she had used back home that did things that magic could do only in a way no one had ever seen before. Something as simple as creating sparks with out the use of magic was astounding to the people. When they asked what this new, amazing ability was called, she wrote out the word ‘science’ in the marble pink sand.

 In this world her inventions did not take much root. All the tools of her old life had been for reshaping, changing, even destroying and here, there was no need for this. Nothing was waisted or thrown away. When something was no longer of use, they would simply burn it, returning the ashes to the ground to replenish the nutrients. When something was needed, it was simply grown, or formed with magic.  There were no possessions, or art, or crafts, and so it was deemed strange that she should want to make things and give them away.  

When she came of age by the standards of the people, they had grown her a small hut in the clearing where she had appeared. She was amazed to watch as a group of them made a circle in the velvet grass. They began to hum, and a small orange seed began to materialize in the center. One of the women beckoned her to come forward and as she did a hair was plucked from her head. It twined itself around the seed as it lowered to the ground and burrowed down beneath the surface. Within seconds a shoot broke through, and a tree began to grow and an alarming rate. They took steps back, widening the circle as the shoot became a sapling, then a young tree and then beyond. It grew so that the body of the tree became hollow making space inside itself for her. When It was mature, they stepped inside the entrance and introduced her to her new home.

She was made to understand that she must care for this tree, in the same way that it would shelter her. She was not the owner; she was the caregiver and guardian of the tree. Inside, she found that furniture had been carved into the walls. No, she thought, not carved, or cut. It was grown. There was no cutting in this place.

That first night, in her new home, she felt safe and warm. Surrounded by love that she could feel emanating from the walls, the floor, the ceiling above. She put a hand against the smooth wall and sent her love back. She felt content and she felt loved and for the first time in her relatively short life she felt truly accepted.

Now, years later, having become used the strange and wonderful talking creatures, the plants that were animals and the animals that were plants. The birds that could swim and the fish that could fly, the sentient trees and the strange and wonderful mute people. She wondered if the portal ever opened to go back would she step through? Having changed so much since her arrival, having breathed the air, and having loved her tree, could she ever truly return? She smiled and stroked the branch that held her.

“No, my friend, I could not leave you behind.”

The sky began to lighten, and she watched as the sun peaked over the horizon. The flowers that had bloomed over night began their morning song and she sighed wistfully, thinking that, if she ever found her way back, no one would ever believe her. She chuckled at the thought, as the sun began to climb, bathing her and her tree in its warm and golden light.