The Trees of the Mind Are Black
You are unconscious. You are dreaming.
You are back on the hill, but now you are watching three children as they chase each other in a circle. Their bodies are made of the night sky and their eyes are stars. They are singing a counting rhyme:
One is Heaven, two is Hell,
Three is for the stars that fell.
Four is the beginning, five is the end,
Six is for the the man who descends.
Seven is nothing, eight is forever,
Nine is for God on his endeavor.
One of the children stops chasing the others and points at you. "Make a wish!" they say.
"On what?" you ask. "There are no more stars."
The child looks upward at the sky. "No more stars," they say, "means no more wishes. Oh well." They go back to chasing the others.
You watch them as they slow down and then stop, their heads reaching up into the sky. Their arms stretch out and become branches and their bodies become trees with bark as black as night. Only their starry eyes stay the same, cold and planetary, looking out at you.
And then they wink out.
You feel pain and someone's hand is cradling your head. Your hair feels wet, probably with blood. You hear a voice: "You didn't have to do that." Nina. "We would have come with you. You didn't have to do that."
"Where am I?" you ask groggily.
"Oh thank god," Nina says. She is cradling you in her arms and you suddenly think that her arms are very, very nice arms. "They kidnapped us."
"Who?" you ask.
"I don't know," Nina says, "but if I have to hazard a guess, I'm thinking either human traffickers or people who want to steal our organs. We're in a van being driven somewhere now."
"Shit." A thought comes to you. "My jacket, where's my jacket?"
"Um, I was using it to absorb the blood," Nina says and lifts up your jacket, now covered in red. "I know head wounds bleed a lot, so I was trying to stop it."
You feel the back of your head. You poke and in return feel a stab of pain.
"I don't think you have a concussion," Nina says, "but I'm not sure. We need to get you to a hospital."
"Did you try telling them that?" you motion to the men in the front seats.
"No," Nina says. She lifts the jacket up. "Do you still want it? I mean, it's not quite ruined."
"Check the right pocket," you say.
Nina has a momentary look of confusion before she puts her hand in the pocket and feels the silver gun. "Oh," she says. "That's why you asked."
You lower your voice. "We have to wait for the right time. We don't want them to hurt us, but if we can get away without hurting any of them..."
"Sure," she says. "Waiting, right. I hate waiting."
"So do I," you say. The air is filled with an uncomfortable silence.
"Do you ever have the feeling," Nina says, "that you were born in the wrong world. I don't mean the wrong time, like I don't mean that I want to live in the '50s or '30s or anything, but in the wrong world? In the wrong Earth? Like, there might be a million billion Earths out there, but somehow we live on this one, the one where the stars vanish from the sky, where things never get any better, they only get worse."
"I worry that there are no other Earths," you say. "I worry that this place, this planet is the only planet and that when it goes, that's it. That's all."
Nina laughs. "We're a happy couple, aren't we?" she says.
"Yeah," you say, "I guess we are."
Silence descends again and you think back to your dream. It was unlike any dream you've had before, so you decide to share it with Nina, to tell it to her before this sudden sharing comes to an end. "Nina," you say, but she interrupts.
"We're slowing down," she says. "I think we're stopping."
You try to sit up and Nina helps you. "Get ready," you say and she nods, her hand inside your jacket pocket, fingers gripping the gun.
The car slowly stops and the people in the front seats have gotten out. You and Nina take one last look at each other, then slowly you slowly stand up and ready yourself before the door opens.
You can't tell who it is at first, since they have a hood over their face. But then they pull the hood down and you see it's an older woman, brown eyes with black hair and olive skin. She is smiling, but not at you.
"Nina," she says.
Nina gapes and says, "Mom?!"
by
You are back on the hill, but now you are watching three children as they chase each other in a circle. Their bodies are made of the night sky and their eyes are stars. They are singing a counting rhyme:
One is Heaven, two is Hell,
Three is for the stars that fell.
Four is the beginning, five is the end,
Six is for the the man who descends.
Seven is nothing, eight is forever,
Nine is for God on his endeavor.
One of the children stops chasing the others and points at you. "Make a wish!" they say.
"On what?" you ask. "There are no more stars."
The child looks upward at the sky. "No more stars," they say, "means no more wishes. Oh well." They go back to chasing the others.
You watch them as they slow down and then stop, their heads reaching up into the sky. Their arms stretch out and become branches and their bodies become trees with bark as black as night. Only their starry eyes stay the same, cold and planetary, looking out at you.
And then they wink out.
You feel pain and someone's hand is cradling your head. Your hair feels wet, probably with blood. You hear a voice: "You didn't have to do that." Nina. "We would have come with you. You didn't have to do that."
"Where am I?" you ask groggily.
"Oh thank god," Nina says. She is cradling you in her arms and you suddenly think that her arms are very, very nice arms. "They kidnapped us."
"Who?" you ask.
"I don't know," Nina says, "but if I have to hazard a guess, I'm thinking either human traffickers or people who want to steal our organs. We're in a van being driven somewhere now."
"Shit." A thought comes to you. "My jacket, where's my jacket?"
"Um, I was using it to absorb the blood," Nina says and lifts up your jacket, now covered in red. "I know head wounds bleed a lot, so I was trying to stop it."
You feel the back of your head. You poke and in return feel a stab of pain.
"I don't think you have a concussion," Nina says, "but I'm not sure. We need to get you to a hospital."
"Did you try telling them that?" you motion to the men in the front seats.
"No," Nina says. She lifts the jacket up. "Do you still want it? I mean, it's not quite ruined."
"Check the right pocket," you say.
Nina has a momentary look of confusion before she puts her hand in the pocket and feels the silver gun. "Oh," she says. "That's why you asked."
You lower your voice. "We have to wait for the right time. We don't want them to hurt us, but if we can get away without hurting any of them..."
"Sure," she says. "Waiting, right. I hate waiting."
"So do I," you say. The air is filled with an uncomfortable silence.
"Do you ever have the feeling," Nina says, "that you were born in the wrong world. I don't mean the wrong time, like I don't mean that I want to live in the '50s or '30s or anything, but in the wrong world? In the wrong Earth? Like, there might be a million billion Earths out there, but somehow we live on this one, the one where the stars vanish from the sky, where things never get any better, they only get worse."
"I worry that there are no other Earths," you say. "I worry that this place, this planet is the only planet and that when it goes, that's it. That's all."
Nina laughs. "We're a happy couple, aren't we?" she says.
"Yeah," you say, "I guess we are."
Silence descends again and you think back to your dream. It was unlike any dream you've had before, so you decide to share it with Nina, to tell it to her before this sudden sharing comes to an end. "Nina," you say, but she interrupts.
"We're slowing down," she says. "I think we're stopping."
You try to sit up and Nina helps you. "Get ready," you say and she nods, her hand inside your jacket pocket, fingers gripping the gun.
The car slowly stops and the people in the front seats have gotten out. You and Nina take one last look at each other, then slowly you slowly stand up and ready yourself before the door opens.
You can't tell who it is at first, since they have a hood over their face. But then they pull the hood down and you see it's an older woman, brown eyes with black hair and olive skin. She is smiling, but not at you.
"Nina," she says.
Nina gapes and says, "Mom?!"
by