FOR A wood so moderate at a glimpse, the routes and trails twisting around trees and brush seemed more extensive than was physically possible. And, in spite of the menacing grey clouds looming outside, the deeper recesses of the forest were radiating an almost unethical life.
Birds twittered, leaves whistled, and he could swear that something was twinkling merrily in a patch of shrubbery an arm’s length away.
Treading carefully, so as not to disrupt the serenity, the boy felt his way further into the emerald depths, hands grazing the airy mosses on the tree trunks and entwining themselves in the leafy tendrils brushing tenderly at his unruly dark hair.
Slightly abashed by the contrast he created with his pale yellow top and tattered blue jeans, Jem could feel his feet slowing and gradually hardening until he was Marble – a statue amongst the quiet trees.
Only his eyes moved then – green as the haze in this magical place, and only ceasing their rapid excavation to linger on a spring gurgling happily to his left. Upon seeing it, the marble melted away and his footfalls began to rustle the deciduous carpet as the pool inched closer.
It was glorious; a soft, pale cerulean hue, and the surface sparkled like diamonds, only broken when the occasional koi would poke its head through and whiff at the woody taste of the forest. Once it had its fill, the fiery orange head would disappear again, to be replaced by the sparkling blue.
A smile broke his statue-face, and a chill dragged down the length of his spine as a distinct giggle shattered the silence. Disrupting the pattern of soft, graceful movement, his head snapped around as he searched accusingly for the source of the disruption.
Unless, of course, he’d imagined it. Mother always said that he needed to pull his head out of the clouds. And so it was hardly reluctant that he let his focus divert back to the spring.
He had grown accustomed to the comments regarding his attention span, and paid them no heed. The second time an echoing cry reverberated through the wood, he was on his feet. The reason being that he knew his mind wouldn’t be so naughty, but also because the sound didn’t stop.
It would crescendo and drop, trill and sing, but never stopped. Not until Jeremy laid eyes on him. Him, standing nobly within arm’s reach, and with a troupe of mice and rabbits following at his hooves. Him, with the smile sculpted from pearls, with the honey eyes so lush he was certain they’d start dripping sumptuous nectar.
As he ogled, he’d hardly noticed the strong, leathery gold hand that had clasped his shoulder. Every inch of his bare arms and torso was radiating a living, pulsating aura of warmth and comfort.
And where his spine tapered off into a glossy coat of muscle and sinew, every crevice and contour became smooth and sculpted to build a body that echoed the strength of the trees, the serenity in the forest, and the untapped power of the scene itself.
So utterly entranced, and so fascinated with the reality of the situation, Jem had also failed to notice that the singing pan pipes had fallen silent, and were now hanging in His hand.
It was hard to believe that a tool so plain in comparison to the beast that wielded it, could have borne a melody so lovely. Breaking the trance, he tore his eyes away from the curving shoulders of the centaur’s equine half and forced himself to focus on His molten gold eyes.
Hardly surprised by how dry his throat had become, he gulped for air and clutched at the hem of his shirt, feeling like much like one of the tiny koi in the presence of a great marlin.
“Jeremy.” It wasn’t a greeting, but a mixture of one and a commanding statement. His knees buckled and a shudder rocked his body as He spoke again.
“Jeremy, it’s time to go home.” Minutes later and he was frozen again – again he was Marble, and very much in awe of the towering creature that had dropped him so effortlessly onto His back.
The same curving shoulders were shifting and leaping beneath his legs, and the bountiful waves of gleaming raven hair tenderly grazing his cheeks.
The ride was silent, despite the fact that the centaur’s footfalls should have thundered through the vast woods. Jeremy spent most of it listening to his own chest rising and falling with raspy gasps, and watching the muscles of the human half tense and twitch with an anxiety he couldn’t place.
“Aurum?” Another tingle touched his spine. The taste of His name on the boy’s tongue felt bewitching, and he let it roll in his mouth before acknowledging the attention he was now receiving.
“Thank you, Aurum.” The centaur dazzled him with another smile, and thereto further ignited the boy’s curiosity. Looking wildly about for another topic of conversation, his gaze rested on a familiar pink bloom.
“Snapdragons…” he gasped, recognising the feathery petals. “They’re just like the ones from Mum’s garden.” Prepared to ask how it was that the flowers were able to grow in such a dense forest, his breath caught as he spotted a break in the trees that created a window of sunlight, each ray catching on powdery particles in the air and making them glitter.
Clutching at his chest, Jem returned to marvelling the intense beauty of the wood as Aurum began to speak.
“Lovely, are they not? The snapdragons are the only dragons around here, though. Dragonflies tend to stick to the outskirts, and” – a toothy dragon snarls fiercely at a brave silver knight, both figures frozen on the page of a book – “the fire-breathing ones keep to the mountain ranges.”
Still awed by the flashback interrupting Aurum’s explanation, Jeremy forced a meek grunt in response as he checked himself over. He was still very solid, like his Marble, and so dismissed the images.
“Can you smell that Jeremy? I think I just caught scent of” – make sure you’re home before dinner – “your mother’s cooking.”
Nodding weakly in response, Jem released the puffs of air that had collected in his chest in a single, defeated huff . His fingers grasping at a velvety frond hanging limply from one of the majestic willows, he strained to hear the hissing of the – a tiny, remote controlled motor boat zipping from bank to bank – river. Aurum was right, they were getting close.
And no matter how hard he wished, no matter how tightly he latched himself onto the centaur, the breaking sunlight grew closer and closer until he could see a veranda in the distance.
Choking back a quiet sob, he turned hastily to take in the marvels one last – everything comes to an end; both the good and bad – time. Ruefully clambering off of the steed, he met his gaze with a heavy heart.
In a moment, he found himself locked in the centaur’s grasp, with Aurum’s hot breath tickling his ears with its sweet perfume.“I’m glad you came, Jeremy. And I’m so glad you could enjoy my home, and enjoy it for the trees and the rocks and the life. I’m so blessed.”
After all of the experiences today, Jem had hardly expected the centaur to be the thankful one. Still mystified by His sudden epiphany, the boy watched timidly as the towering creature reached up to pull a shining silver something from his hair, releasing a thick lock of rich black curls that hung beside his delicate gold cheeks. With both of his quivering hands now clasped in Aurum’s soothing grip, the boy licked at his dry lips as he fumbled over his words.
“You showed me something miraculous today, and my only wish”, he added, running a thumb over the intricate flowers lining the curve of the glistening silver comb, “is that I might be able to share it”.
His cheeks flushed as he finished blurting out the words, and pressed his face further into the strong, warm hand that cradled his chin. The honey-sweet puffs of breath moved from his ear to his hair as – a father’s lips crushing themselves against his head as the little boy awoke to a hearty ‘good morning’ – a pair of warm, soft lips tenderly grazed his forehead.
The hand moved from its supportive stance beside his cheek, one finger lingering to swipe at the impregnated tear that had started its descent down his face. Feeling the centaur’s glittering smile, one of his own finally cracked the statue-face and he turned, without once looking back.
– our little secret, kiddo –
It was hard not to squint at the transition from the glittering green woods to the harsh, unfiltered sunlight.
As he crossed the backyard, clutching the silver comb so tightly that the petals of the dainty flowers and the gleaming prongs dug into his palms, familiar sights began to take shape.
A slender book bound with fake leather sat on the glass table, the ruby-eyed dragon staring grimly from the cover. A remote controlled power boat perched amongst the grass, the shiny white plastic in the late-afternoon sun.
And in the window, he could see his mother setting a table for two; even at a distance her eyes were sullen and sunken, a shadowy paleness touching her cheeks. The screen door easily gave way at his touch, and at its creaking the tired woman offered a hollow, strained smile.
Moving instinctively to stand behind the chair she’d seated herself in, he went to put a comforting arm around her shoulder only to find himself noting how dull and lifeless her dark hair was.
Pulling a thick lock away from her face, he found the silver comb in his hand and ran it through the curtain before entwining it with the handful he’d taken out from her eyes. Stepping back, he watched with a newfound wonder as her hair, her complexion, and the gloomy room itself seemed – snapdragons in the summer – to bloom.
By Caitlyn Lightner
Year 11, Westminster School
MARION – SA
Teacher: Shelda Rathmann
