HOLES IN THE FABRIC: Bk 1 The Weaver Prophecy

Chapter 12: Preparations for the Underworld

Hutu had been deep below the earth in his home when the earth above him had parted. Through the crack had dropped tears tinged with the blood of a breaking heart, below to where he had caught them in his taloned fingers. He raised them to his nose, and the waves that were his eyes opened wide in surprise. He had felt this pain before. Only once before.

It had been a grey windy day. A day that whipped the world clean of its falseness. Stripped it bare. The woman he saw that day cut a striking figure. She had strode past him in black boots, her long voluminous dress in whirls of purple flew about her, ignoring her face stripped of colour like the  grey skies. Long black hair streamed behind like tails of cats with minds of their own. She carried with her a little gold box, which she hugged and clutched close to her heart.

Hutu had felt her heart, before he saw her. It had wept then too. He saw the weeping had formed a wound upon her heart. A sore she could not see, only feel. Hutu eyes followed her as she had walked through the mud, clutching her precious gold box, a trail of tears upon the wind, flicked outwards by her hair. Snot had dribbled down her wretched face and into the beautiful mouth. She had stopped before the big Pohutukawa tree growing from the base of the cliff, spreading out its branches to the sea and skies above.

A man was beside her - though Hutu did not really notice him- and he bent and dug a hole. A little hole for a little box. A little gold box. A prayer flew out of her mouth, its lines of gold reached around the box as she stood there, then flew up to the heavens where it was anchored. Trembling fingers reluctant in their task, held the gold box before the hole, and filled the place with more tears.

"My darling child, we loved you so much. I felt your beautiful soul within me and I want you to know I will always love you. Always. Please God, please look after him. I don’t know know why you wanted him, why I couldn’t have him, why you let me taste his soul so briefly, without letting him take a breath from this life," her anguished sobs racked her body. "Please take care of him, please."

She placed the small gold box in the ground and the man covered it over, beneath the branches of one of Hutu’s trees. Hutu sent out his awareness, and saw within the small gold box the remains of a tiny foetus, smaller than a thumb. Red, bloodied and dead.

 The tears which opened the earth and fallen upon his branches this very day, belonged to the same woman. Moana. He had found her name in the ethers.

Hutu rose up through his tunnels to the base of the tree and spread his awareness out. He gasped. It was her, his beautiful Moana. Oh why does she cry again? Her arms were wrapped around his trunk. Why her, why did Hutu feel for her, a human. That was how it was. It just was.              

 His fingers danced in the air drawing pictures of gold for her, she did not see or feel them, he tried to send out soothing energy through his trunk, she did not feel it. Hutu sat and waited his waves spilling from his eyes, until darkness fell.

Moana was still there weeping, Hutu could stand it no longer. As soon as the sun disappeared he had come to the surface and spun towards her calling her name. She hadn’t talked much sense and then had fainted clean away, poor love.

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Hutu sat staring at her, still lying on the damp earth in front of him. Thoughts raced through his consciousness. Ezzy was her daughter? The daughter of his lovely Moana. Moana who always came and talked to him. Left him flowers by his tree, sang to him. At last she had met him. Hadn’t gone as well as he hoped- the booger thing was a bit unfortunate. He looked down and saw it had dried upon her cheeks now.  He hadn’t known Ezzy was her daughter. He went back over his meeting with Rehua.