I dropped the knife from my hand and it fell to the ground clattering noisily on the stones of the dry creek bed. The silence needed for the magic to work was broken and the intense blue light that had flooded the valley floor, chasing away the twilight gloom, vanished.
“Hush child.” they shouted.
Somewhere out in the dark of the forest a pair of owls hooted to each other, their calls sounding like laughter as if they were mocking the tribe for attempting to summon the waters back.
The Elders said that water would bring life all I saw was blue silence in the vision, a silence that wanted to swallow me whole.
I didn’t like silence. I didn’t mind the dark as long as I could hear wolves howling or the creaking of the wind through the timbers of the dead tree beneath which we were camped. There was always comfort for me to be found in sounds, even those that spoke of danger. But in the silence, lurked the unknown and it was impossible to know what weapon you needed to take with into the unknown.
© 2016 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.