Honeycomb Moon

Library Dream December 16, 2014

(From a six-word prompt: armadillo, cougar, letter, library, splatter, temple)

Library Dream

I sit on the back of an ancient armadillo, who is carrying me to the library. She deposits me at the bottom of the concrete steps saying “This is as far as I go.” I slide off her back and climb the stairs, which grow steeper with every step I take. When I finally reach the top, I turn and look back. The old armadillo is no more than a tiny speck, moving slowly in the direction from which we just came. Turning, I enter the library.

At the desk is a wrinkled woman with wild grey hair and a splatter of glitter on her cheeks. There is a cougar sitting at her feet with an envelope clenched in its jaws. “The letter is for you,” the old lady says. “We’ve been waiting for you.” I reach for the envelope but the cougar snaps at my hand without letting go the letter. “Oh you can’t get it that way,” the woman says, brushing a wisp of grey wildness from her face and getting glitter on her fingers. “Come with me.”

I follow her through row after row of books stacked high on shelves all the way to the ceiling, creating great caverns. At the end of the last row we enter a room that looks like a temple, with lighted candles dripping beeswax on the floor and spicy incense filling the room with pungent aromatic smoke. The cougar is there waiting for us, sitting quietly, the letter still clamped tight in its mouth.

Ah, so this is how it is, I think. Understanding that which cannot be understood, I place my hands together, fingertips pointing upwards, in prayer position, in front of my heart, and bow low to the cougar, imbuing the move with all the respect and dignity I can muster. The cougar drops the letter at my feet, bows in return, and disappears as I pick up the letter from the floor.

The old woman smiles.