Snails Journey

Shells Wrinkles

My face is wet, and my boots, and everything. The clouds are raging onto our tribe. No one woke me. Sitting up I can feel a slight pinch of pain in both my head and shoulder. A small trail of red to be washed away, nothing to worry about. I guess I should home. I want my home to copy my voice, so it can forever be gone.

  My tribe taught me that they were my home and their something I need to leave. At the moment, if anyone saw me, they'd shoot an arrow. I look like a shaggy, boney, old, wet, bear. Shoot me now, shoot this old bear. At least id feed someone, or give'em a fright, in that case feed me to my father. I snort, why are wierd noises the only thing I make. I feels as if nothing can stop me, maybe im getting sick.

  A dried out giggle attempts to replace my silence but fails.

  Standing in front of my hut now I feel my stupid confidence has left right with my giggle's attempts. How can I face them like this. As I turn to run away a hand grabs me on the shoulder, than I feel a pull, im inside, I feel arms, and a pelt wrapping around me. I feel scared, whose hut am I in, mother nor father would treat me with such humanity.
Cold, what happened to the, everything.
   Rock, fire, and an old fat woman. Fear peirces from the old womans face right into me. Of corse Im a frightened, an old woman kidnaps- wait. Thinking it through now, I walked here. Where is here. I can't look at the woman.. I do not know her and she is helping me. I should look her in her sharp old eyes and thank her with both my apologies and gratefulness to her. But I am nothing but a speechless coward who knows nothing but nodding and looking at the boots of my father. I look down, at her bare feet, wrinkled. I can do this. I look into her face, I read each wisdom filled wrinkle that makes her. She is a woman I can trust, or I should say, a woman I have to. The wet dust around us gets pushed back by the womans sigh, "you know" she says shaking "the storms do more that make water". Im very confused. I give the expression to match my thoughts but all I recive is a smile from the lady. "sit" she tells me, pointing to a feathered cushion. I sit down on what feels like the smell of happiness. Hot! I look at my lap to find a scorching hot, dripping, and steaming spoonfull of a concoctions I never could have dreamed of. Smells and aromas surounded my air, moving it away until all I could smell was the food she helt out in front of me. Its stopped dripping on me and it looks like her wrinkles cant hold the wooden spoon much longer, i ate the mixture. I was pleased, and getting dizzy. A woman I could trust? I thought as I saw the last sight before it turned to night under my eyes.