The Tao of Loud Sue

Submitted into Contest #181 in response to: Write about someone who realizes they're on the wrong path. ... view prompt

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Fiction Inspirational Contemporary

The spiritual seeker named Victor climbed the rocky path up the mountain. He stopped several times, doubting the directions he’d been given. He thought he’d lost his way and doubled back more than once on the ill-marked path.

‘Is it too much to expect a sign? Or an arrow? Work with me…

Thirst nagged at him. Hours passed, without results.

Entering a clearing, a thatch roofed hut came into view. A strand of smoke rose from the chimney.

This must be it,’ he thought. ‘Who could live so remotely? Who else would?

Victor sought the legendary wise woman, Loud Sue. Until he saw the little cabin, he’d only heard rumors of her existence. Some stories put her at over a hundred years old. People described Loud Sue as a female magus, wise woman, guru, or seer. Legends told of spiritual seekers searching the mountains for her over a century. They hoped to serve and to learn.

Her students jealously guarded knowledge of her location. Respecting her privacy, they hoped to protect her from unwelcome spiritual tourists. The uninitiated scoffed at the absurd idea of a wise old crone living in the wilderness.

Over three years, Victor explored several states, without results. Until today.

He’d learned of her almost in passing. Once, in a meditation group. And again, from two patrons conversing in an esoteric bookstore. Victor had learned patience and discretion. Questions, too obvious or penetrating would shut them up.

With the hut before him, he caught his breath, stood and watched for several minutes. Except for the smoke from the chimney, he would have thought the site abandoned. Though tidy, it looked like a relic of a previous century. There was no road, electricity or signs of modern technology. The hut rested on a foundation of loose river rock. The frame was of rough-hewn wood. It sagged in places.

An old woman, wearing a tattered shawl, stepped onto the porch and pointed at him.

No turning back now. He pulled a pineapple from his pack and approached her, holding the fruit in offering.

“Hi. Sorry to disturb you… Loud Sue? I’m told you like these.”

She stared without emotion, giving no sign he got her name right.

“What do you want?”

Victor spoke humbly. “I want to find the correct path.”

“Where are you going?”

“Here.”

“Then, you found the correct path.”

She turned toward her door.

Victor said, “Wait!” She stopped but did not turn. “I came to learn… And to serve you.”

Victor held his breath. She didn’t move. Suddenly desperate for oxygen, he gasped.

Did she chuckle?

Without looking at him, she pointed through the clearing and re-entered the shack.

He placed the pineapple on her porch railing and strolled in the direction she’d indicated. He discovered a stump with the blade of a long-handled ax firmly embedded in it. Beyond it lay a felled tree, cut in sections, awaiting someone to chop it into firewood.

He said, “Oh. Of course.”

Victor wrenched the ax from the stump, grabbed a chunk of wood and set to work. After an hour, he was about spent. But he’d generated a respectable stack of wood for his efforts. He’d earned his blisters.

He spent a few minutes sipping from his canteen while resting against a log. Hearing footsteps, Victor looked up to see Loud Sue approaching with an empty pail.

He stood and walked to meet her.

She held out the pail. “I need water. Stream’s down there.”

Taking the pail, he made his way several hundred yards down the slope. He found the stream, filled the pail and started back. Careful not to spill, Victor wondered, ‘why build your home so far from the stream?

He returned to the shack with the pail almost full. He set it on the porch.

“Water’s here!”

The pineapple no longer sat on the railing.

Loud Sue called out. “Bring it in, please.”

He did so. She pointed to the corner. “Put it there. Sit.”

Victor did as told. She surprised him with a cup of fragrant hot tea. They drank without speaking. He breathed in the perfumed vapors rising from his cup.

For the first time, he noticed the deep silence extending beyond the walls and forest. It seemed nothing moved anywhere. Not even air. Everything listened. A bird called. Maybe from miles away.

He felt speaking would be disrespectful, like playing a podcast in church.

Sharing tea, just the two of them, was the stuff of legend. He watched her go about her tasks, utterly lacking in self-consciousness. Unaccustomed to guests, she made no attempt at entertaining.

How can I describe her?’ he wondered. Faces, when you think of them, are elusive. Most descriptions are comparative, doe-eyed, stone-faced, or doughy. Emotions are easy. But a face? All different. And hard to pin down.

Loud Sue looked like no one. Wearing no make-up, her wise eyes shone brightly from luminous skin. Moment to moment in the firelight, she could be sixteen, six hundred, or both. Once and still a beauty, Victor decided hers was the ‘original’ face.

How she got the name, Loud Sue, puzzled him. Hardly loud, she’d barely said a word.

A dusty guitar leaned in the corner. Besides the many dings in its finish, two frets appeared to be missing.

Loud Sue said, “Sly left it.”

Victor raised his eyebrow in question.

“Sly Drule. The singer. You know his music?”

Victor smiled at the name. Sly Drule had led a one-hit-wonder band, Drool, when Victor was still in high school. He’d seen them in concert and once had a souvenir t-shirt.

Loud Sue said, “He spent some time here.”

She gave him a mischievous look and they spontaneously broke into the refrain from Drool’s hit. “My tensile strength’s severely strained. Hairline fractures have drained my brain. Meta, meta, metal fatigue…” They clapped and laughed together.

“Great harmonies there, Sue.”

She smiled while pouring another cup. Victor sipped.

He said, “Sly was great. What happened to him?”

Sue didn’t speak for a long time. She seemed to weigh each word.

“He pursued another’s dream. Finally awoke. Found his way.”

Questions teemed but Victor gave her sway.

“He trained as an engineer… mechanical, structural… whatever. But wanted to sing. Started a band. Got traction, and some notoriety. But stumbled over himself.”

Victor smiled in self-recognition.

Sue continued. “He obsessed over every theater’s acoustics. Pocket protectors became a required piece of the uniform. Problems arose when people heard he selected groupies for their ‘structural integrity.’”

“Wow!” Victor shook his head.

“After the contentious divorce from co-singer, Donna Desi-Bella, things spun out of control.”

“I never heard this…”

“But the pivotal moment… I think it was Cincinnati… Or Chicago. First show in a new building. He stopped the concert, mid-set, and told everyone in the balcony to come down front.”

“What?”

“The crowd went nuts. Fire marshal shut down the near riot. Sly claimed the balcony’s support struts were unstable. That it would collapse. The press savaged him. Lawsuits followed.”

“Not always up on the latest… but I heard.”

“So, they discovered he was right. Sly’s potentially saving lives became national news. Apologies were made. But his musical career was not blessed.”

“He dropped out of sight…”

“His obsession with precision alienated the band. Les, the drummer, sued for his saying ‘close enough for rock-n-roll doesn’t cut it.’ The band fired Sly, reformed, and came out with, ‘Close Enough.’”

“Another one-hit-wonder…”

“He returned to engineering and now lives in obscurity. Sometimes comes to visit.”

Victor wondered, ‘Why did she tell me this?’

She watched him and poured more tea.

He said, “Some follow their path. And for others, the path follows them.”

Loud Sue nodded, stood and took the kettle and cups to the basin.

Victor stayed through the winter, doing needed tasks, like shoring up a sagging wall. He mainly fetched water and chopped endless piles of wood.

He also played Sly’s old guitar, and well. Most nights, his soft chords drifted through the night air. Sometimes Loud Sue would sing.

When the snow melted, Victor returned to the city.

A talented musician, he gained a following in musical and spiritual circles. Taking the stage name, Guru Vee, he also spoke to and led meditation groups before concerts.

His fans found their way to Loud Sue’s cabin. They too had paths to discover.

And Loud Sue found she now had help to spare.                   

January 19, 2023 17:42

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7 comments

Ela Mikh
13:36 Jan 26, 2023

Interesting story. I could see the location if her cabin, almost wish I could go there. I think I would have loved to know more about the inside of her house. Living remote like that and doing what she did, it must have been fascinating Thank you for sharing

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John K Adams
15:40 Jan 26, 2023

Ela, thanks for commenting. I'm glad you enjoyed the read. Good point about the interior. I'll update that.

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Bonnie Clarkson
21:46 Jan 25, 2023

When you said from the last century, I thought more like two centuries ago. I guess I'm showing my age because I was born in the last century.

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John K Adams
22:52 Jan 25, 2023

I meant that legends had persisted, supposedly, for over 100 years, as happens sometimes. Most of us were born in the last century. Nothing to be ashamed of. Just that much more accumulated wisdom to share with the whippersnappers. Thanks for reading and commenting.

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Russell Mickler
18:26 Jan 24, 2023

The spiritual seeker doubts the directions he was given? Oh come on, that's too funny, in and of itself. Loud Sue, awesome play on words; spiritual tourist, really great; a pineapple offering, and the whole exchange with Loud Sue, stellar! The conversation about music I wasn't expecting, but a fun ending. A real fun read, thank you! R

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John K Adams
20:31 Jan 24, 2023

Thanks, Russell, It was a fun one to write.

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John K Adams
20:31 Jan 24, 2023

Thanks, Russell, It was a fun one to write.

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