At long last and maybe too late, I have six sentences in response to this week’s Six Sentence Story prompt, “labyrinth”. The prompt word put me in mind of walking labyrinths and also of the art of the Tohono O’odham. While inspired by the Tohono O’odham’s ‘Man in the Maze’ the following is not meant to be a retelling of their I’itoi or U’ki’ut’l stories, but is more of a walking meditation to help straighten out my tangled serpentine thoughts.
Do go to our hostess’ site, GirlieontheEdge, and read others’ labyrinthian tales of six sentences each.
The Path by D. Avery
She appeared then, appeared as a mountain revealed when the mists lift, appeared as a pebble revealed in a palm when a fist opens, and she smiled then, knowingly, knew your unspoken words: I have lost my way.
Her gentle laughter was dappled sunlight and there in her hands was an endless rope, woven with each experience you’ve ever had, braided from your stories, and she held the rope, her hands wide apart, wide as the mountain, wide as the world, that you might see how long is your path.
She laughed again, said A straight path, however long, can never lead to the center, and she snapped the rope, and it fell before you in a labyrinthian coil and you again set upon your way as the mists again descended.
This path is long and winding, with abrupt turns seeming to thwart progress. But you can see where you have been and you gain patience with each step; acceptance replaces expectancy as you journey on.
Then a step takes you to a tree cloaked mountain, to where a tossed pebble leaves ripples in the center of a sun dappled lake, and you know that it is all yours, that it is you, that even the gentle laughter you hear is your own.