The Bone Woman

The sun shone from a beautifully blue and clear sky that day, drawing out all of nature's secrets. I pulled to the side of the road, leaving the car running and the door open—it didn't occur to me to do otherwise. For the briefest moment, a part of me wondered, Am I blocking traffic? Cars shifted, barely, the drivers faced forward, not registering me. It was quite a jam.

The grassy bank absorbed my footfalls as I walked across it. Ahead of me, a mirror on the grass glinted in the sun. But just past it, half-engulfed by the earth, was a white PVC pipe—in it lay a girl, covered with patches of dirt. I screamed out, "Call 911! Call 911!"

I must have made the call myself because I heard the operator answer—she responded in a deep, measured voice. I tried to explain about the girl but as the words exited my mouth, the operator began a long mesmerizing celebratory howl that reached beyond my vocal cords, entraining my heart into a unified howl with her.

No words were possible while in the grip of the entrainment. I could no longer speak. How could it be that at this moment of my heart's engagement, the world suddenly became empty, devoid of occupants, dark?

My body couldn't move. I could discern slight flickers of light against dark, ridged walls. And I found myself sometimes shivering from a low continual howl. I heard an occasional snap and crack. Was it a fire? My surroundings smelled charred. Was I dead?

Wait, footsteps. Some exchange occurred—voices, one asking a question. A cackle. A shuffle. A brief clatter increased the warmth and light mildly. Footsteps faded before only the low howl resonated throughout the space again. Afraid and weary, I drifted in and out of sleep, aware of a nearby presence.

When I awoke, I felt heavy, not wishing to move. But I allowed my breath to reach deeply into my ribs, feeling its gentle rhythm. I blinked away the film of dust thrown over my eyes from a gust of wind. How much time had passed? I wondered. Again, I drifted off.

I awoke at the sound of a woody clatter with pain searing through me. What was this? Was I lying over a fire? I panicked, my lips trembling and unable to speak. My fingers tried to move. The dark presence approached—she recognized my fear and helplessness—and I felt as if lifted, with chanted words moving through me, "...in your own time...in your own time..." I felt water rinse over me. I allowed my body to rest in moist warmth and again, drifted off.

Each time I awoke, I tried to move something, a finger, a toe, anything. But only my eyes seemed to move and had become more sensitive to this place, which enveloped me like the rigid dark of a winter night. I caught sight of my hands. I saw only bones and looked at the dark presence, wide-eyed with the realization of the dreadful, gruesome sight that was me. "You'll not want to be looking with those eyes." said the woman, raising an index finger. "See with your inside eyes and learn through the dreams." With nothing else to do but trust her, I closed my eyes and allowed sleep to take over.

Was the crone sitting on me? In between the searing of the fire, the rinsing of the water, and the distant voices skulked a sense of self-loathing and dread—so oppressive, it felt like time had imploded the world into this crone who now sat on my bones.

What were those voices? I strained to hear, increasing the volume in my dreams such that I awoke with a start. The voices were voices of judgment. Old voices. Mumbling voices. None were correct. None were mine. They pressured the old woman, "She must stay in the dark ... she belongs to the earth now, don't you agree?" And the old woman would put her hands on her hips and look them squarely in the eyes. "We'll see," she said. And when they left, she'd cackle.

After a final stoke of the fire and rinse with water, the crone opened the door. The moist sweep of a sweet, grounded scent cleared my senses, removing the muddle of my perceptions. It dawned on me that the dark figure was not sitting on me. I wasn't stuck, but free.

I struggled to move for what felt like days, although I could not be sure. The howling wind had abated, only occasionally becoming prominent. Amidst the minty camphor notes of a pine tree that now wafted about me and lingered in the air, I summoned my will to move my body once again, remove myself completely from the presence of the dark entity—the weight of my limbs transformed into nimble lightness.

I found myself, finally, standing in a perfumed zephyr of grass and clover under the beautiful blue sky looking at the mirror that lay waiting for me on the grass.