Myth Land (unedited)

XVIII

The sound of people chattering—but more like grumbling—and the sound of ten thousand elephants walking in every one second difference woke me up. I had the urge to punch someone in the face, but realizing that I was the most pathetic fragile creature lived in the center gave me a second thought. With my body as light as a plastic, I almost fell from the tree and killed myself. And with my will-never-be-perfect vision, I looked at the ground and found animals—lots of them (guess it wasn't the sound of elephants' footsteps after all)—wandering here and there. They bumped on each other, stepped on each other feet, or even pushed one another. Guess the phrase "lots of animals" didn't apply. "A sea of animal" did. I saw some of them collapsed because they couldn't get enough air. Some died because of being stepped by larger animals. Not a surprise anymore. But the sun had not even risen yet. What were they doing?

I took a moment to collect my nine lives as if I were Sphynx before I took the second look to the ground. I swear. I swear I thought my eye had gone blind, for I saw something that was strange. How strange? It was as strange as all of the animals down there suddenly looked almost the same from where I stood. Not talking about the size, of course. I'm talking about their shapes—and gestures—and how extremely, all of the sudden (or maybe I was just not paying attention as usual), slow they walked.

They bent their heads so low that I could only see their napes.

My furs were ready to leave me naked.

The sun was not hiding anymore, yet it was the darkest morning of my life.

They walked in groups, lined up like an army, to certain places to get some water, and then they went separate ways. Went to whom they called helpers.

These animals did not only serve them water. They helped their helpers to drink. While the helpers were sitting like a jelly, these animals gently poured the water that they carried in a bowl-shaped leaf into their mouths. Well they didn't even open their mouths widely. But if there was one drop—one drop of wetting the corner of their lips, I don't want to tell you what happened.

But that didn't stop there.

My acquaintances left for the second time. This time they took some fruits. Some killed smaller or weaker animals for the helpers to eat. I crawled lower to catch the look in their eyes. It was so hard to see small animals' eyes—their bends made them look even smaller. I caught the eyes of an elephant, a giraffe, and a tiger.

I thought they were soulless bodies walking down there.

They didn't frown. They didn't smile. They didn't cringe. They didn't look to their left or right. They only stared straight to wherever they wanted to go. They didn't talk. They didn't whisper. And for a moment I thought they didn't even breathe.

These animals did not kill random animals to be served to their helpers. They chose. Guess these targets of victims were what they stared at.

You wandered for a while with that empty stare and face. No one would know whether or not you were dangerous. But then you attacked. And there was no fighting back. Lost focus and you died.

The helpers, at the same time, were half lying like mochi on couches made of pile of freshly plucked leaves. I saw no sweat or wounded paws from picking the leaves. Only baggy eyes from having too much sleep and loose muscle from barely moving from their seats. I tilted my head a bit to see the faces of those breathing Japanese desert. Most of them were monkeys. No surprise. Oh—all of them were monkeys! Only that they had different types of species and size and types and colors.