The Wild Seeker

the dark door of the dark house blinked in the light. it held itself for a moment, enough to bring the light washing into the hallway, a curling finger that hooked onto her belt. she felt it and complied, lifting her pack up to her back, so new and clean and untouched. she rubbed her finger over the ring on her hand, gave her mother an uncertain kiss and turned away, clodding with her feet through the door and out past the roses and the fence to the road. the world yawned for her, waking with the day and her feet played at dancing as the road walked under them, taking the hours and then the days and putting them behind her and between her and the dark house. again she touched the ring on her finger, the gold band given to her, a remnant of someone’s love. her heart ticked and stuttered and then she felt it, the ring becoming tighter on her finger. had she somehow grown beyond it? just a slight thought and then she felt the warmth of it and the constriction seemed to ease. she let it pass, kept on her way, her pack and her feet lightening on the road, barely a ripple as they skimmed across it. later in the day she noticed it again, the constriction, the tightening and then the warming but it began to burn, with every step hotter and tighter until she gave it it’s voice and stopped. she ran her finger over the ring, put it to her face and felt the beating of it, ticking with her heart. it was unbearable. she turned and clodded back along the road, disturbing all the dust, clouding her but showing the way. she came towards the dark house, but now lit through every window, its mouth open in wonder at her return. she came through the door, seeing the most brilliant and colourful light coming from upstairs. she ascended there, her mother’s room brilliant and awash with colour and hue, found her mother there, glowing in the brilliant light. “i knew you would return my love, i felt you out there on the road”. she touched the ring, the gold band of her mother’s that had been given to her and slipped it off her finger, placing it in the glowing hands of her mother. her mother smiled and she smiled, her mothers lips a cup for her own. the light collected around them and she saw the source of it, the sun through the open window casting along the wide fields, newly ploughed and sprinkled with the new growth of the spring. she hugged her mother, a certain hug, and turned to the window. one small step, another much larger, rising into a run, running towards the window as it opened its arms to her. one last touch of her feet on the floor and she gave herself to the light, over the sill and through the open window into the sky, her arms stretched out to catch the air and embrace it. her mother, suddenly displaced from her centre, gathered herself and ran towards the window, towards the light and, stopping at the sill, the edge of her known world, she looked out, looked down. there was no sign of her daughter, no scattered pieces to gather into her heart. far across the fields, the cluster of tall trees, silhouetted guardians of the earth, gave forth to an eruption of birds, disturbed by something in the wind, rising into the sky.