Screeching at the Stars

Dedicated to Dad

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The wretched screeches of the anthropoids filled my ears. I tried to block the noise- my ears were to the point of bleeding- but I was determined to get this picture. I wouldn’t give up because of a few monkeys.

I could imagine it. The way the full moon played on the light of the water, making the black, flowing waterfall glisten like a thousand stars.

The perfect shot.

The only problem was getting there.

To reach the waterfall, I had to hike for two days before I would be able to see it. I am already on my second day of hiking, and according to the map, I should be there by sunset.

Assuming everything goes as planned.

I know as soon as I think that, everything is going to go immediately wrong, right?

Hopefully not.

I swat at yet another bug.

I might not make it before these insects eat me alive.

My legs are riddled with mosquito bites, despite the repellant I used earlier, and reapplied eight times after that, and my hiking boots are caked in mud. I frown, because when I bought them, they were really cute, and I was hoping to keep them that way.

Oh well.

I continue on, ignoring the mud on my boots and letting the stinging nettle brush at my ankles until I’ve had enough. I pause to pull my socks up farther for a bit more protection, wincing as my thumb brushes a tender cut.

Note to self; next time, wear pants, not shorts.

With the back of my hand I wipe sweat from my brow and sigh.

As I whip my head away violently, to try and escape the bugs, I notice most of the monkey calls have faded into the distance, save for one. I can hear it up ahead, ear bleeding as ever. But something feels wrong.

I speed up a bit, and push past the plants and roots of banyan trees so I can see what's causing this monkey to scream so loudly, and why it's scream is the only one I hear.

And then I see it. A hollowed out gourd with a small hole drilled, just big enough for the monkey's hand, sitting on top of a low laying rock.

A little ball of fur sits next to the gourd, its little wrist swallowed in the tiny hole.

"Hey, little guy," I whisper. "Want some help with that?"

He gives out a deafening cry and shakes his head as if he can understand me. I close my eyes and wait for my ears to stop ringing.

In the wilderness safety class I took before coming out here, our teacher told us about the monkey traps and how the animals were ever persistent and the locals used that against them. 

Poor things.

I know I’m not supposed to (we were told to leave the traps be.) but I can’t help it, I have to release the animal. 

Despite being unnecessarily loud, the monkeys are also darling. Ignoring my training, I inch closer and reach out. I wrap my fingers around the tail end of the gourd, hoping to pull it off the monkey's wrist. But he won't let go of the fruit inside the gourd.

I'm probably releasing one of the natives' dinner, or some child's cruel trick, but it’s glimmering eyes shine up at me. I can see the persistence in its large amber irises.

But despite all my efforts, this ornery - if adorable- monkey won't let go of the fruit.

So I look at it one last time, debating. 

The Monkey clearly wants that fruit at whatever cost, and if it refuses help, so be it.

"Fine," I say, sticking out my tongue. I know it's childish, but there is no one to see me right now. "I tried to help you. All you need to do is let go,” I urge once more. “And you will be free."

The monkey makes a face back, ever tenacious, and I kick the rock on which he and the gourd sit.

I immediately regret it.

My foot throbs as I walk onwards, forgetting about the nasty, stubborn animal. 

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I set up camp first, and then - around sunset as promised - I find the waterfall. But since I am taking a midnight shot, I have to wait for the moon to be in the perfect position. 

To evade the relentless assaults of the bugs, I decide that it is better to wait in my tent instead of out in the open. But once the silvery moon was up, I would use its light to guide me to the waterfall.

I stare out of the sheer fabric at the top of the tent, waiting for my moment. 

As soon as I see it peek through the brambles of the large banyan nearby, I hurry to grab my camera and equipment. Once I was at the waterfall, I walked as close to it as I dared. Above, the stars were shining.

Nature is a beautiful thing. Despite the moon being bright, I can still see more stars than I can in the city, and it’s magical.

I aim the camera lense at the flowing water, and among the roaring of the fall, I hear a lone monkey shrill.

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A/N

I don't know if I can dedicate a story on here but... I just did. ;)

My dad gave me the inspiration for this story, bringing to light the concept of monkey traps.

The monkey sees the gourd, and wants what's in it. It then sticks it's hand inside, but cannot pull the food out, because it is to large to come out of the hole. Rather than let go, the monkey persists and holds on.

Stubborn as a Bull, or Stubborn as a Mule? I think we can add Stubborn as a Monkey, wouldn't you agree?

You know what the most annoying thing on the planet is?

Not being able to submit your story because the word count isn't big enough. I don't want to go in and add more detail because... ugh... work. (And also because I don't want to push it; if you know what I mean) But I suppose I must. I didn't just waste an hour of my day writing this whole thing out, only to not submit it. So here I go to edit, yet again. Yippee.

And yes, I am hoping that this extremely long Author's note will count as words.