HUNTER Part II Cosmos

HUNTER
By Yelena Tylkina

Part II: Cosmos

The young hunter pinched off one, solitary flower from a blooming tree, hided it inside his jacket and followed the trail of scarlet lips. He did not have to wonder for long to get to the magical cave. He prayed for a few minutes to get the courage to face whatever that would come to him and entered a crevice of the maze.

Near the fire the little, dark eye girl was alone, reading a book. The young hunter was spying on the girl for a while, thinking how to approach her. What to say to look evidently smart, dominating, manly and with an immediate explanation about his disappearance. The time was passing and the young hunter could not start a conversation, fumbling tails of his jacket.

“Well, well my special pet is back from playing around in the wild woods,” the girl sad without taking her head of the book. “I am reading a book on your heart desires. I would say an amazing and amusing literature. Please, come closer to the fire. You mast be cold, tired and hungry. We still have some leftovers from a last party which you miss. Would you like a snack? And what should it be? What is your favorite part of yourself?” She looked strait at the young hunter.

Now, the girl seemed to the young hunter about sixteen with boyish appearances: spiky short hair, thick eyebrows, a strong jaw line, dark, deep, hungry eyes; wiry, long body. It was confusing even at the close distance to figure out the gender of this teenager.

The untamed beauty of the teenager girl was captivating and agitating at the same time; even so, she was well groomed, and dressed in superbly tailored, funky clothes: burgundy lather jacket with an embroidered, tattoo inspired design of skull, flowers and dragons, and black, animal print jeans staffed in the red snake skin boots. But her eyes seemed to be not human.

Somehow, the all atmosphere in the cave was changed to a modern look of a city loft: brick walls, high ceilings, huge windows. The cave had been converted into the cosmopolitan living quarters with oversized canvases of Modern Art and wide, heavy furniture placed over antic rugs mixed with skins of wild animals. The young hunter immediately felt more relax and approached the girl flirtatiously: “My favorite part of myself is my butt. It is tasty on anything.” He collapsed on a red lather sofa near the girl, crowding her with his massive presence. The teenager girl still was holding her book. The hunter glanced inside girl’s book but pages were empty.

“What us up with your book, sweetie?” The young hunter asked and broad his face very close to girl’s neck and inhale deeply. The girl frayed her brows, her eyes glowing with amber as she moved her lips slowly:” Only I can see the script. This special gift not for common people, my pet, and only I could see and imagine what will happen in the future. Do not forget this book is about your fate.”

“I am going to tell you what to write.” The young hunter rolled his eye to the ceiling to gather his thoughts, mumbling something to him-self and folding his fingers in calculations of his desirers, wishes and dreams.

The girl rose slowly, closed her book, and annoyingly replied: ” I see you do not learn your life lessons and insisting to be primitive and a bully. Already, you was devoured by your own demons ones, kicked your “good on anything butt” from the paradise to the wilderness of your stupidity, come back and still, not a drop of wisdom in your eyes. I do not understand why you had to be chosen for this magical experiment? We all have to obey cosmic orders but I refuse to participate to help you with your fate. Go to Hell! I am going to burn this boring book of your life right now!”

The girl rushed to the fireplace. The young hunter grabbed her arm and pulled her back toward him. The girl kicked him fast and hard in the crouch, stomach and face. The young hunter stroked back and in the fury of there straggle he stabbed the girl with something he grabbed from a table. When the girl collapsed on the floor, he pulled the book of fate from her hands with laughter. His dance of glory and hysterical laughter stopped when the young hunter was up to his ankles in the girl’s blood. He froze in a shock. A black long line of a calligraphy pen rising from the girl’s shiny from her own blood limp body was the last thing he remembered. The young hunter fainted into a scarlet, abstract space, but of very tiny, suffocating dimensions.

With his book of fate still clanged to his chest, the young hunter regained his conscious on the cold floor of a small, dark room without a door. The ragged structure was a hut made from thick branches and the spaces between branches were staffed with small stones and mud, and layers of dried grass were substitute for a roof. Dim light was lazily descending down from a narrow, horizontal slat of the window on the top of a wall. The young hunter feasted his eyes on the blossoming flower from the deep woods, bathing in the ray of dim light.

“Ha-ha! It is easy to break this childish stricture. This is, maybe, a tree house.”- The young hunter communicated his plan to the flower and rose from the floor. He tried everything in the hope to destroy this tree house: scratching and kicking walls, jumping maniacally, assuming he could brake floor or shack this fragile structure down. Finally, clamming walls and digging holes in the grass roof. But dry grass was sharper than scissors, cutting his hands to shreds. He was creaming for help for hours in to a slut of the window, just to get slaps of bird’s shit on this face. After a few days without water and food, broken by an effortless straggle to free himself from his cell, the young hunter gave up and was ready to meet his end. He collapsed in to oblivion.

The aroma of fried chicken and French fries woke him up. The young hunter lost any sense of reality. He was starving and dying from the thirst. The food on the tray was a large bucket of Kentucky chicken, fries; pickles, fresh bread, soda, and one slice of pizza with pineapple.

“Is it Haven? Did I already die? “-The young hunter was wandering in his thoughts, while staffing himself with food and weeping like a lost child. He finished eating than fell asleep again.

The caravan of long days passed the same, except the fast food variations and a miracle of a never withering, aromatic flower from the deep woods. A basin with water appeared for him to wash and other things of personal toilet. He tried to break out again and again, but the same story repeated itself, till he realized that he could manipulate his surroundings by drawing the image of his needs in the empty pages of his book of fate, with his tears and blood. The small wishes would came true, but still he could not leave his cell, yet the place itself got bigger and bigger and a structure change from a hut to an abandoned factory, than into a space station of a colossal magnitude.

A space station had robots to maintain it and an intercom to talk to the source of the leadership. The young hunter got deeply involved with his place of incarceration and left behind his emotional longings, even forgot his earth life. But felt in his book of fate with drawing and letters of his life story. He reared his book at the remains of his day, staying in the observation room and than looked for hours at the cosmic view full of indescribable, fantastic wonder. He did not know the exact location of this space station. This specific knowledge was not given to him. He was safely drifting among endless cosmic beauty. He surrendered to his destiny to be a time and space traveler.

Than one day, the Amazon walked in to the observation room. The young hunter was not surprise to see her. He was dreaming about this moment for years. They set together in silence, listening music of peace. The Amazon’s elegant silhouettes was a miniature depiction of the cosmic view: the gold streams of the Amazon hair were in a beautiful contrast with a shimmering indigo suit she was wearing and enigmatic glow was emanating from her face. She looked younger then the young hunter remembered, or perhaps, he edged a bit. He took from an inner packet of his jacket the forever blossoming flower from the deep woods of his earth life and decorated the Amazon’s hair with it. The perfume of a timid flower felt the air.

“Life is an unpredictable and mysterious voyage!”- He sad.
“Our life is exactly as we picture it and what an incredible view!”- The Amazon replayed.

Fantasy Fiction
18 November 2010
The editor Charis Warchal