Chapter Four

Greyish White Magic Stone

“Whew.” There in the distance, her hut. Looking back, I glimpsed at the forest I was leaving behind. These are the days that I wished for rain. Some kind of relief, something to keep my sanity. I don’t know how these people don’t burn up under this sun. It is a vicious enemy of mine.

My backpack was wearing me down. It had very little in it, but what was once unnoticeable has become a burden. I know it’s the hike and the heaviness of my legs that have taken over me, making everything feel heavier than they really are. I saw just what I needed on my way to her hut, a nice smooth rock. It was quite peculiar though. A funny looking face on it, pudgy cheeks and a huge indentation that made a smile as if it was laughing at me. Here I go again. I need to stop doing it, but it’s what these natives instilled in me. Showing me life in everything around me. The rock is just a rock, something to sit on and I desperately needed to rest. It’s been quite a hike and I’m still not there yet.

“Oh, crap! Ants.” These damn ants were in the crevices of the mouth. They weren’t like the ants back home and I didn’t know what kind they were. Mr. Pudgy was definitely feeding on them, because they went deep into the crevice of his smile without coming back up. They were marching in, one by one as if they were turning themselves in from a crime. At least that’s what I thought with their peculiar black and white striped outfits, something that was worn back home by criminals. White for freedom and black for punishment. Our judge made the call; once determined guilty they wore all black. Into the jail they went. That’s where they were heading, into the mouth of Mr. Pudgy to determine their fate of being eaten alive.

“I’m sitting anyway. Maybe at the back of the head.” I’m getting used to talking to myself. It’s something I need to remember to shut down when I get around my fiancé. He’ll think I’ve lost my mind. Mr. Pudgy was a wonderful relief and unbelievably comfortable to sit on.

“Smooth and rough at the same time.” I ran my hands around, trying to brush off the excess dirt. Mr. Pudgy was a very light, white grey with some discoloration. But was most interesting is the rough parts. Was I feeling words? I know the natives, the few that knew how to write, loved writing on things; so it must be words. I haven’t yet mastered their writing, but I’m sure I know the words I love you. Someone carved into Mr. Pudgy their love for another. How romantic. Or was it Mr. Pudgy in love? I laughed. Intrigued, I slid off to read it. Some words I couldn’t fully translate.the-stones-263661_640

Yah hew, e love me matter
E love me sense
E take ye sense
E take ye ting
Yah hew, me now do that
E have ye ting with me ting.
Do that down, no up
Yah hew, e love me

They were indeed simple people. They loved incantations and magic; always thinking everything has life in it. Those poor souls, with their poor love. They can’t even write how much they love each other correctly. My translation of their poorly written language read.

Hey you, you love me body
You love my mind
You take my mind
You take my … (you know what)
Hey you, I want to do that now
(They are having sex)
Moving up and down
Hey you , you love me

It’s always sex with them. Playful words of love. They were incantations to them, possibly to draw attraction. That’s how they think and that’s how they lived. It was just sex and food for them. Nothing more. I scribbled the words they wrote on a piece of paper I had in my backpack, before beginning my hike again. It was to add to my collection for my presentation, once I return back home. Our committee will understand my confirmation of their primitive thoughts and behavior.

And they left stones with the drawing of what they called the wind. It was definitely incantations of magic spells that they practiced to engage in love. How silly these people were, using magical stones to demand sex and love. What happened to romance? To courting? To someone naturally loving you? They had no place in their culture for true love, just hop on it and ride with the help of a little magic. They were like animals in the wild. What can we possibly do with such creatures? They were just mere animals, the simplest form.

The stones would be a good depiction of proof of their belief in magic. Maybe four of them from this scattered mess on the ground would do. I held one and put the rest in my backpack as I continued to walk to the hut, trying to memorize the incantation.

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