By Pat Barnett
I remember some of the way but not the whole journey.
I recall the veils of dismal light and how they distorted the terrain so that what appeared to be distant hills turned out to be inaccessible rocks.
Nevertheless, the path led me on to a place I thought I knew—perhaps in a myth, perhaps for real. I cannot say, but the vague memory warned me to tread with utmost care.
Without any prompting from me, my ears pierced through the silence until they found that barely detectable sound of something slithering over dry leaves.
Now I knew I was close to the lair of the Oracle.
She knows I am on my way; I sense her excitement, her cruel anticipation of my mounting fear.
The slither was not slimy, nor was it wet in any sense, and the leaves were impossibly crisp for the time of year.
Ah, what was I thinking? This place was somewhere else—where the impossible was the norm.
It was then, through the dense, greyish haze, that I saw him—the Guardian of the Oracle’s entrance.
He beckoned me. And like before, he promised to, “keep a close watch on everything.”
Enter, hissed the voice inside my head.
“What do you want this time?”
“What future do I have?”
“Before the future is spoke of, what kind of past did you have?”
“Not good. That is why my journey was needed—I beg your help.”
“In what way was it not good?”
“Everything has been taken from me.”
“Everything? Have you not brought me a gift?”
“Oh yes, I brought you three gifts.”
“Good, then not everything has been lost.”
“Everything I owned has gone. My gifts to you, I searched for.”
“Ahh… and what are these gifts?”
“I bring the root of a rare orchid, the scut of a rabbit, and the tears of a baby.”
I knew then that something was wrong; I tried to change the subject.
“I… er, I see that the Guardian of your gate is looking into the past—is it not time he looked to the oncoming year?”
“Janus watches everything—did he not tell you?”
“Yes, but…”
“There is no but… Janus sees what only concerns you.”
“That’s what I mean—I need to know where my future lies.”
“Then you need to pay attention to the present.”
“But…”
“I told you, there is no but…”
The silence between us could have filled an ocean.
What had I done wrong?
Was it the gifts?
Did they not please her?
They were of no use to the subjects, or were they?
An orchid on the verge of extinction has no need for roots.
A rabbit’s tail is meant to bring good luck—but does the Oracle need luck? Probably not.
And a baby without tears—is that a blessing? Perhaps not.
“You like not my gifts?”
“I like not.”
“I have failed then. You will not tell me what the New Year will bring for me.”
“It will bring nothing for you.”
“Then what was the point in making this trek?”
“You want your future mapped out—well, it doesn’t work like that. You were advised to mend your ways. You didn’t, and now you cry for help.”
“But…”
“I told you, there is no but…”
© 2024 Pat Barnett.
