ANNA MARIE
Anna Marie lay in the hospital bed. Stiff, starched white sheets covered her frail legs, and the beeping of machines became the soundtrack in which she lived her final moments. Mint green walls were the constant tapestry which her eyes fell to. Her curled hair was a white cloud that rest atop a face weathered and lined with memories. A million smiles had creased her cheeks, thousands of tears had welled in her eyes. At eighty-two years old, Anna Marie had lived a long life. A good life, if the people surrounding her were any indication.
Her three children, sat in uncomfortable plastic chairs next to her raised bed, each with a hand clasped over hers. There was Celine, with her fine boned face and sharp angles. Dark hair resting on her shoulders, looking exactly the way Anna’s used to when she was young. Julia was her artist. The free spirit who never quite fit into one box or another and felt everything so deeply it was like an ocean churned inside of her. The youngest was Abel. Not young anymore by society’s standards, but still her baby. His dark eyes stared soulfully at her, mourning the loss before it came. Their children and spouses were there too. A clutter of people saying their final goodbye.
Yes, Anna Marie had lived a good life. And now she was ready to go.
The setting sun peeked through the slats of the Venetian blinds covering the windows along the western facing wall. It would be her last sunset. She marveled at the knowledge that she would never again see this particular shade of orange. As the light of the sun faded that one final time, the darkness of twilight taking its place, the music ceased its melody, and the steady beeping became one long note. The grief came then, not for Anna Marie who felt nothing more than an airy lightness infused inside her, but for those she was leaving behind. Sadness is only for the living, after all. A mourning of the thing they’ve lost, of being left behind.
Anna Marie was outside of her body now, looking down at all those she loved. The lives she had created and carried within the body that now lay still, having released its last breath. A body that was merely a casing for her soul that she no longer needed. Anna Marie was free.
She floated then through the ceiling of the hospital. Into the darkened sky, and past wispy gray clouds covering the atmosphere. Up she went, and darker still. Past the moon and into the infinite black of the Milky Way, holding all the planets she had become so familiar with in her time on earth, and the one blazing star that supported it all on the edge of Orion’s arm. Out of that spiral and further still, racing toward an unknown pull as if she were a magnet being tugged to her corresponding part.
Time passed; she didn’t know how much. It was all much the same, floating through the darkness, until a planet came into focus. Just a dot a first, in a galaxy not unlike the one she had come from. It too had planets orbiting a star, and more moons than she could count, as she passed faster and faster still. That tug which had guided her across vast expanses of space became more insistent, urging her to move with even greater speed. This planet was an enormous thing, great streaks of blues and greens swirling together on the canvas of this orb.
Soon, the vast oceans became clearer, and as Anna Marie shot through the atmosphere, so too did the canopy of large leafed trees reaching and touching the outstretched hands of its neighbor. The buildings here were unlike the ones on earth. Great domed buildings lacking the sharp edges of the ones she was used to. There were no skyscrapers here. No factories spewing smog and clogging the air.
The tugging grew more insistent still, a great building up of pressure where her chest would have been if she were still in her corporal body. Like Anna Marie was caught in a rip current, wrapped around her leg and dragging her further out to sea, until finally. Finally, the anxious feeling of searching for something that had been lost, or maybe not yet found, eased as she slowed above one seemingly inconspicuous building. It looked like all the others, but this is the one that reached for her.
The building was a cream-colored half-circle. It had great trees with peeling white bark surrounding it. Anna Marie could hear voices from inside now. Soothing sounds in a musical language she’d not yet learned. Just as she reached the roof, ready to plunge inside and see these people that called to her, Anna Marie’s vision went black.
There was nothing but those muffled voices and a great pressure. Darkness enveloped her so completely it became a comfort. It was a warm embrace she could feel even if she could not see. The voices. They became more insistent, building like the strength of a wave, and crashing against the craggy cliffs before rising up again. Anna Marie had the feeling something momentous was happening, and the anticipation built once more.
One voice stood out against the others. Familiar somehow, like she had known this voice above all others. Known it for so long it had become a part of her. It was a comfort, its soothing cadence, even when it wailed in pain. Until finally, it stopped. A hush broke out across the room, and a different voice rang out.
“A girl,” it said.
Anna Marie opened her eyes.
“Hello, my Akasha,” the voice that was linked to her said. The woman had skin the color of pale lilacs. Swirling tattoos inked over the high planes of her cheekbones under large black eyes. Ebony hair streamed over her arms. The arms now holding Akasha to her chest. She knew this person. Mother.
AKASHA
For a few years after she was called to this planet, Akasha still had moments where she would recall towering skyscrapers and automobiles, smog filled skies, and stretching sandy beaches. Sometimes she recalled these memories for her mother who gently shook her head, exclaiming what an imagination her little flower had. Sometimes she would dream she had curls in her dark hair and olive skin. Holding hands with five fingers. She had glimpses of a man with blue eyes half the size of her own, not black. Sometimes she felt like it was more than a dream. More than her imagination. Sometimes. But then she grew up.
Akasha’s people worked the land. They planted flowering bushes to please the winged insects and tall trees for the Markatah, who climbed the arching branches and made their homes in the leaves. The still pliable stems of growing trees were coaxed into intricate braided patterns, arching and twisting as they reached for the sky.
The warmth of the sun darkened Akasha’s lilac skin, turning it a deeper shade on her exposed shoulders and high cheekbones. Mother would scold her if she saw her now, laying next to the Shashi River, hair fanned over the embankment while she twirled her hand through the cool water carrying the falling leaves downstream. Small Matsya would nibble her fingertips before darting away again once they realized she was not an easy meal.
She smiled at the tickling sensation, and her mind turned toward other, more desirable thoughts. Kartik filled her mind with his long limbs and amaranthine skin. He was a great hunter for their village. Taller than most other males, and stronger still. In the cool morning mists, Akasha would wake early, softly tiptoeing out the front door before her mother stirred, eager to see if there would be a Kali flower from the great mountains waiting for her on the stoop that day. Whenever Kartik was in town, they would be there. He was steady as the sunrise, and strong as the moons pulling on the tides.
She was just passed 17 rotations, old enough to bind herself to the male of her choosing. On this morning, Akasha had peeked out of the cracked door, hope building in her chest that today, soft orange petals would greet her. Kartik and his fellow hunters had set out many moons ago, on a trip to the other side of the great mountains as they followed the grazing patterns of the Mahisi. She was careful to draw the slat of the door slowly away from its frame, a slight hiss sounded as it scraped against the sand. Elation rippled through her at the sight of their fiery hue. Kartik would be at the river today.
Now, she was languidly stretched on the embankment while she waited. She felt contented with a peace settling over her, her eyelids growing heavy from both the early mornings and the gentle lapping of the river, until she heard the crack of branch breaking underfoot. Purposeful, for Kartik would never make so much noise on accident. She continued to lay there. Closer and closer he crept until he was upon his prey.
He pressed one large palm to her much smaller one, which she lifted in his direction. Her eyes widening at the intimate greeting.
“Kartik,” his name was like the wind on her lips.
“My Akasha,” he responded.
She could feel the happiness brighten her, starting deep within, and shining out through her look of joyous rapture. She knew this was it. After their lengthy courtship, today would be the day Kartik would notify her family matriarch of his decision to bind himself to her and take her to live in his dwelling.
He joined her on the embankment, and they lay side by side through the morning hours. She asked of his journey, and he told her of the expedition through the rough terrain which grew increasingly dangerous the higher they climbed to reach the path that led through the sister peaks. He described the Ratrija flower that grows at the highest point of their journey, with its deep purple petals that only bloom at night. Akasha wished she could be there as the sun sank beneath the horizon and watch as the soft petals unfurled themself to worship the light of the moons.
She told Kartik of her days spent weaving the great tapestry that would adorn the elder’s wall. It was a great honor to be chosen for this work, and she knew it spoke highly of her talent. He was suitably impressed as she described the use of dyed kitanu silk to create the intricate designs that would tell the story of their people’s migration from the islands beyond the horizon to valley lands before the great mountains which they now occupied.
Much time passed, until finally Akasha knew she could not remain gone much longer. Already her absence will have been noted. Kartik too, would be missed as the rest of his hunting party will have gathered in the main square with their bounty.
She sighed deeply, not ready to walk away from him just yet.
“Do not fret, my heart, I will speak to the elders on this night. Once I receive their blessing, I shall speak to you mother so we can be bound. We will never be parted again.”
He sounded so sure, so confident that she couldn’t help but believe there would be no obstacles to their joining.
“Until the sun rises upon our love,” she said in agreement.
“Until the sun sets on our life,” he finished, pressing his palm once more to hers.
They both rose, almost unwillingly. Kartik first, his strong limbs stretching as he stood. Akasha next, albeit less gracefully. Her legs stiff from too much time spent laying in the same position, causing her to stumble.
Kartik’s dark eyes widened, and he reached for her, only a breath of a moment too late. The smile on Akasha’s mouth froze as the foot that stepped back to regain her balance didn’t find soil, but the cool water of the river. The ground beneath the running water was deep, her arms waved wildly in the air as she fell backwards, and her body was submerged. The cool water that was sun warmed at the surface gave way to the frigid ice-cold water beneath. Pin pricks of pain stabbed over her entire body as the current below grabbed her legs and dragged her further downstream.
Akasha held onto her breath, arms paddling in vain for the surface, for the life-giving air above. She felt the sting of the rocky bottom as the edges cut into her flesh each time her body hit the river floor. Still, she held her breath. She held Kartik’s imagine in her mind and knew he would come for her. He would save her.
Her lungs burned with the need to inhale. But she didn’t give in. Then finally, finally, she hit a large rock, and her body was jolted upward. She gasped deeply, pulling in the moist air above the churning river. Her eyes frantically searched the bank until they found what they were looking for. Kartik was running along the edge, keeping pace with her journey downstream, until he stopped suddenly. He froze with a look of utter horror on his face written in the opened mouthed silent scream and terrified eyes, but Akasha kept moving. Too swiftly to realize the reason he stopped, until she felt the weightlessness. Until she was flying. Until she was falling down, over the edge of the waterfall. Kartik had stopped because there was simply no more land to run.
Her heart thudded under the fabric of the tunic she had weaved. The one embroidered with symbols of love and saved for the day Kartik returned. It thudded even as it felt like it was in her throat, and the wind was whistling past her. It thudded until her lilac body lay broken on the jagged rocks where the water roared all around her as it beat against the stone at the unfairness of a life stolen by its craggy edges.
Akasha too lamented that this life, as pure and joyful as it had been, was not nearly as long as the last one. When she was Anna Marie.
But she did not have long to dwell on regrets, on one misstep too close to the edge, for she was rising again. Called to somewhere new. Back up the rush of pouring water, past Kartik who had sank to his knees, finding his voice now as he wailed in anguish at the love that had been taken from him. Up further still, back through the atmosphere, and past the many moons.
Akasha now remembered the journey to this planet, how it had seemed both an eternity to reach and no time at all. When surrounded by the blackness, the empty space between so many worlds, it was like having one’s sight taken. Floating blind with nothing but darkness until the pinpricks of light finally came into focus. A new galaxy in the unending, ever-expanding universe. It felt much the same this time around, only feeling the speed of her travel when she had the quickly approaching planet to compare it to. This one so different from the last. Whereas Akasha’s home was full of forests and oceans, life teeming in every corner, this orb was blanketed with a thick atmosphere impenetrable to the star it orbited. Her soul drifted through the dense air to the land beneath. The ground was blanketed with black sand, blown by rapid winds carrying the tiny grains and turning them into sharp projectiles to wear down the large stone plateaus.
Vast cities covered this world, hidden behind walls so high, they almost reached the heavens. Walls to keep the black sands carried by howling winds from eroding their towers. Akasha flew past them all, pulled in the direction of a neighboring city. Linked to the first by a thin road only travelled when the winds died down, and the gates flew open, this city that looked just like the first, called to her, summoned her into one of its great buildings, and again, the darkness took over.
ARJUN
The path to Harrah was thick with ebony sand that had blown incessantly for the past fortnight, making progress along the trade route slow. Arjun’s muscles strained against the light fabric of his tunic as he pulled the reins in an effort to keep the equine beast in line with the rest of the caravan.
After two days of travel, he could finally make out the glittering black glass of the towers reaching above the height of Harrah’s gates, even amid the perpetual darkness.
Not a moment too soon, he thought with a sigh.
Arjun was tired. He had been making the journey between cities for as long as he could remember. The excitement as he clung to his father’s leg in joy before his first trip was long gone, and in its place a knowledge that while what he and the other traders did was necessary for so many people, it had long since been replaced by a benign resignation to his duty. There was no more joy, no excitement. Each trip was much the same, and Arjun had become weary. He had always felt older than his years, even as a child, but now, at almost forty, he felt like a wizened old man.
A deep bellow of the Rama horn being blown from a parapet on the wall echoed across the dunes, signaling the arrival of the caravan from the neighboring city, Shennah, and alerting the gatekeepers to split the towering doors open to admit them all. It also signaled to the people of Harrah to assemble, and ready themselves to barter in the market square for the week-long stay of the caravan. Long awaited items would be the first to go. The citrus fruit that grew in Shennah’s vast groves. The finely woven fabrics of their master weavers whose apprentices began learning soon after they started walking. The spices that have been ground to fine powders.
Yes, trade days were long anticipated during the lulls between gusts of the great sand winds. While each city boasted the same smooth glass buildings fired from the dark grains that piled high outside their walls, individually, they specialized in varying industries, relying on trade between them to fill any gaps.
Harrah was an industrial city, exporting machinery and technology which Shennah used to boost their agricultural production. To the north lay Cirn with their great libraries and science centers. A place of learning, universities open to all who wanted to attend. To the east was Bresk, whose people cultivated livestock for food, and beasts to work the land or to be trained for travel, their split hooves traversing the land much better than any mechanical invention even to come out of Harrah. The sand was the largest impediment to the wheels and gears, better to use the animals born and bred for the work. Together the cities of the Black Sands ensured that between them all, survival in this dark and dangerous land was assured.
Arjun had spent many years traveling between cities along the trade routes connecting them all, but never farther than Bresk. He did not know if there were any other cities, other people, further away. He had never heard of anyone who possessed such knowledge. Exploration was tantamount to death if one was caught outside the walls when the winds rose from their slumber. There were some people who questioned what else was out there, but Arjun had seen too much of the danger on these routes alone to put much thought into looking beyond. While they could plan for a certain amount of respite, the winds did not run on a clock, could not be predicted. They were controlled by Neried, the god of sand, who cast up storms at will, eroding all in his path.
The immense doors groaned as they slowly opened toward the oncoming caravan, and the procession slowly entered the city of Harrah. Arjun would be glad for a chance to be still for a time, to rest in an actual bed and to submerge himself in a tub to clear the layer of grime from his skin. So full were his thoughts of the travelers abode he would be staying, of rest, that he barely saw the crowd of citizens that had gathered to greet them. Hardly heard the tentative first notes of the stringed instruments in musician’s hands.
By the time Arjun shook his head, clearing his vision to see what was before him, the music surrounded him in earnest, dancers linked in arms swirling around the square they had moved into. Arjun would not participate on this night, no, he was too eager for a bed. But the festivities would continue throughout the week. There would be time later.
He parked his cart in its usual stall before tending to the equine beast that had borne the brunt of the traveling hardship. He took his time unhooking the cart from the animal, then led it to a place it could rest and have access to grain and water. He was leaving the animal enclosure when he saw her. The flash of bright fabrics as they twirled around toned legs. Legs that often moved and danced. Hair the color of the sands outside the wall curled in soft waves to her waist, swayed with each step.
Lira, he would come to find, was her name, whispered to him from moist lips after a sip of spirits from a bottle they were sharing. Over the following week, any time he wasn’t selling his wares at the market, he was soaking up every bit of knowledge he could from her, like a man caught in the dusty winds dying of thirst. He took great gulps of her, gorging himself. She was born of Harrah, to parents who travelled between cities often, only recently coming back to the city after spending much time in Cirn. She was full of information gained from many nights in the library, pouring over tomes in search of everything unknown to her. She was full of life. She danced in the streets whenever a melody could be heard, her hips striking the beat, her feet tracing patterns he could not see in the stone flooring. She ate decadently spiced foods, showing him her favorite meals. She laughed often and loved freely. To have this light shone on him was unlike anything he had ever experienced.
If Arjun was a weary soul, Lira was his antithesis. His opposite in every way, bursting with excitement for life. It became contagious, and the more time they spent together, the more he found himself wanting more. From her, from life. More of everything. Something beyond the endless back and forth between Harrah and Shennah. He wanted to experience new things. He wanted to yearn for life the way she did.
Arjun stayed in Harrah after that first week ended. When the caravan left, he remained by Lira’s side. The doors closed and after the passing of a few days, when the winds rose, beating against the wall, he was content to remain. But with Lira’s restless spirit, he should have known that content was not a place she would dwell in. She began to speak of exploration. Of tales she had read in those far off libraries depicting cities outside of the four they knew. He brushed it off as wild tales, fiction, but she was persistent. By the time the winds had died again, he knew she would leave. Lira was not meant for an ordinary life. And he also knew he would follow.
When the doors opened once more, a caravan from Bresk entering this time to the fanfare of spirited music and welcoming people, Arjun hitched his beast to his cart once more with Lira next to him and the supplies they had gathered carefully situated behind them. He felt a moment of trepidation as they passed under the awning into the dark sky with the darker sands below. But when he glanced at the radiating beauty beside him, he knew he wouldn’t turn back. Come what may.
Lira described the direction for him to travel, and he led them off the well traversed path and across vast dunes, praying Neried would be taking a long respite so they could reach safety before the next storm.
Several days went by with nothing but darkness around them and the swirling clouds above. When they were tired, Arjun wrapped his cloak around them both as they lay in the back of the cart, Lira’s head resting on his chest. He wished he could bottle these moments and keep them forever, only opening the stopper to inhale the scent of these memories long after they were over.
It was during one of these nights that Arjun was suddenly awakened. Clutching Lira tightly, he opened his eyes, peering around him to determine what had caused the sudden spike of fear that pulled him from sleep. A soft breath of wind caressed him, and he gasped. The winds were coming and there was no shelter in sight. He shook Lira to wake her and climbed into his seat, reins in hand, and with a deep bellow urging the animal on the other end forward. Away. To outrun the winds and the deadly sands they carried.
Lira grasped his arm tightly, and he urged them on faster and faster. As the winds grew, the visibility decreased, nothing but black sand each way he looked. There was no waiting it out, the storms could last for weeks at a time. They had to keep going. When the animal could go no further, he clutched Lira’s hand in his and pulled her along. They kept their cloaks over their heads, shielding their faces as much as they could, but the pelting grains stung their skin and ate away at the cloth.
Arjun didn’t know how long they walked, or in what direction. His singular thought was to keep moving forward. One foot in front of the other. Until he felt Lira’s fingers slacken and slip from his, and he stumbled to a stop reaching back to find her. Her small body lay crumpled on the ground, and he wrapped his body around hers, knowing it would do no good and these were their final moments. There was despair that he wouldn’t get to spend as much of his life with her as he wanted to, but also something akin to relief, for he was tired.
He felt the moment her light left the body he held so closely to his. The radiant life inside her which he loved so much was there one moment, and then no more. He didn’t have long to ponder the sadness of a world deprived from this particular light, because the darkness was closing around him too. The black sands had encased his body, grains swallowing his head, until there was nothing but darkness.
As Arjun drifted away from the body still holding Lira’s, he looked across the vast expanse of land, through the blackened wind, and saw the glittering lights of a city. One he had never known existed. Lira was right, there was more out there, and they had been so close. Just not close enough. But he delighted in the knowledge as he rose even further.
As the memories of his previous selves came back to him, he felt an even greater sense of fatigue. He had lived many lives, on many planets, and he knew he was now done. There was no tug from a place across the universe, no other body calling for his soul to imbue. He could see Lira’s shining light speed off across the sky, undoubtedly many more lives awaiting her vibrant soul.
But for Arjun, there was somewhere else for him to be. A light more blinding than anything he had ever before seen opened above him, like all the stars in the universe had formed this one blazing entry point. He felt a peace wash over him, soothing his weary soul, and replacing the exhaustion with an elated joy.
And then Arjun from the Black Sands, who was once Akasha of the Aranya people, who was Anna Marie from Earth before that, and Sheshaun before that, and Selma, and infinite other lives, went home.
Author Nicole Wetzel 
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