Sky Swimmer

The Harm Arts, Part 6

Eric slams his Crowne Victoria to a stop and it kicks a hail of gravel up onto the front porch of a no nonsense little house that doubles as a junkyard office. A rusted, flickering neon sign reads "One Man's Junk Is Another Man's Treasure". Mountains of scrapped cars, shredded metal and discarded washing machines, refrigerators and kitchen sinks watch in silence as Floe and Eric shoulder a limping Livia into the office.

Eric's dad, Dan Stoble, leaps from the tv couch and rushes to help with Livia. "Holy mother of all dear and true to this blessed Earth! What happened here, son?"

Eric shakes his head, still not sure what happened, how does he explain this? "She was attacked by, ah, these things from the ground."

Dan, being a practical man who accepts a world where evil and good stride side by side, is happy to jump to conclusions. "Apocalyptic days are upon us!"

Dan picks up the phone and Livia goes ballistic. "No! Eric, you promised me! No hospitals!"

"She won't go dad, we have to just patch her up the best we can."

Delirious, Livia continues, "Floe! They are coming after you."

"What are you talking about?"

"You are a threat to them."

"To who?"

Dan interrupts, "What in damnation is that?" He is staring out the window into the backyard.

Floe, Eric and Dan are on the back porch, staring at the strange phenomenon; a dust devil churns and sways its way across the backyard. The column of spinning air rises up into the night.

Sheee reh hem heeee sheee rho dem heeeee sheeee ...

"Do you guys hear that?" says Floe.

"Yeah, sounds like a dust devil that should not last longer than ten seconds and it is makin' camp right here in my backyard!" says Dan.

But Floe can hear something else, something beyond the whoosh of the miniature twister. She can hear sounds that could be, might be, words. But she is uncertain. And then she hears it perfectly clear. "Floe."

A voice is calling out to her, a very familiar voice.

As if in a trance Floe walks toward the meandering funnel of wind.

Eric grabs her arm. "Not a good idea," he says. Floe breaks his hold and walks straight into the center of the twister.

A thunder of rushing air fills her ears, and then, a voice made of the twister's own spiraling wind, like a shredded whisper, reverberates in her head, "It is not too late to stop the Soilers from claiming your world."

It's a woman's voice, she knows this voice, or one very much like it. "Who are you? What is going on?" Floe asks.

"I am Frayel. Your path is before you, exposed and arduous. Continue and you may find that which you seek."

"My mother? Where is she?"

"All will be revealed in time. You must first gleam your true purpose. And to gleam your purpose, you must master your Art."

And the voice dissipates back into the wailing of the twister, until that too, blows itself out into nothing but a light stirring of an evening breeze.

Floe rushes for the gate, finds a bike half rusted to the fence. Tears it free.

Eric shouts after her, "Where are you going? Livia said to keep a low profile, that they'll be looking for you!"

But Floe is already out of earshot.

Dan pipes up, "You got yourself a wild cat there." 

Suddenly Livia calls out from the living room, "What the hell is going on? Eric! Floe!"