r.kv.r.y. fall 2006 fiction by michael milliken
Amaranta of the Sky
If I run faster, the young girl will
live. I understand this like I am her
mother and I chase the girl, chase the
trample of her small, bare feet through
wildflower fields that stretch endlessly,
blossoms that spark with a hundred
colors. But darkness nears. Already, the
sun reddens the western sky, an angle of
rose light cast down from distant
mountains. I’m closer, though, each step
gaining on the girl in a white dress. Then
she turns, and I turn, both of us headed
toward the setting sun.
If I run faster, the young girl will
live. I understand this like I am her
mother and I chase the girl, chase the
trample of her small, bare feet through
wildflower fields that stretch endlessly,
blossoms that spark with a hundred
colors. But darkness nears. Already, the
sun reddens the western sky, an angle of
rose light cast down from distant
mountains. I’m closer, though, each step
gaining on the girl in a white dress. Then
she turns, and I turn, both of us headed
toward the setting sun.
painting by mike foss
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For a moment I take my eyes off the girl’s back, the swishing brown hair, and see before us the end of endless wildflower fields.
The fields narrow, flanked and winnowed by dark forest. And I run faster. The girl, too. Our arms pump, feet pound into the
earth as we run fast, free, the chaser and chased, fast across the strip of wildflower field. Just ahead, I see the end. The strip
thins out to a cliff, then gone.
The girl runs toward the edge, on toward the great red sun. I follow. If I can only run faster, the girl will live. And now, I’m
almost there, just another few feet to grab her. But the girl’s at the end already. She turns around and looks at me with big,
glossy brown eyes, eyes that slow my pace. She’s sick, this girl, sick and fearful and quieted by pain, standing limp with her
hands behind her back. But I can save her. I jump, lunge forward, arms out, but the girl jumps backward, a flare of fright in her
eyes.
No! I’ve scared her. Scared her to jump! I fall down hard against the earth. Tears well as I scrabble over the raspy grass to the
edge of the cliff and look down. And there she is – no! – there is the girl drifting down, arms and legs outstretched, sinking into
endless black in her white dress. I see her through tears – no – smaller and smaller she’s a white spot, a fading star, and now,
with the sun, she is gone.
The fields narrow, flanked and winnowed by dark forest. And I run faster. The girl, too. Our arms pump, feet pound into the
earth as we run fast, free, the chaser and chased, fast across the strip of wildflower field. Just ahead, I see the end. The strip
thins out to a cliff, then gone.
The girl runs toward the edge, on toward the great red sun. I follow. If I can only run faster, the girl will live. And now, I’m
almost there, just another few feet to grab her. But the girl’s at the end already. She turns around and looks at me with big,
glossy brown eyes, eyes that slow my pace. She’s sick, this girl, sick and fearful and quieted by pain, standing limp with her
hands behind her back. But I can save her. I jump, lunge forward, arms out, but the girl jumps backward, a flare of fright in her
eyes.
No! I’ve scared her. Scared her to jump! I fall down hard against the earth. Tears well as I scrabble over the raspy grass to the
edge of the cliff and look down. And there she is – no! – there is the girl drifting down, arms and legs outstretched, sinking into
endless black in her white dress. I see her through tears – no – smaller and smaller she’s a white spot, a fading star, and now,
with the sun, she is gone.
