TARA
DAY FOUR
Then, in the year 2138, Tara was in his twilight years. Breathing heavily, he would hop on the clouds and tear fiery leaves from the tree of the Young Blood, named by the Kuinas, the tiny inhabitants of the chocolate caves.
Tara liked to lie down by the silver river, which cut through the middle of the golden valley, and slowly suck in the water through his long, green nose. Now the nose had turned red—this was the first indication that youth was approaching.
He was sad about 2138. There was no need to hunt the flying bronze Ilonas. His son would bring him a frozen platter of sparkling insects. Now that the son was gone, he had to find food for himself. And it will only get worse ahead. Soon he will forget how to hop up on the clouds. Then his mother will appear—this was the only thing he looked forward to.
The orange clouds flew swiftly across the earthly sky. The sapphire gaseous streams and lakes reflected the dark blue sun. Somewhere far away, a light-blue cliff glistered. Huge lemon drops of rain slowly fell upon the earth and settled among the burgundy-fuchsia grasses and transparent flowers.
“Still, it’s good to enjoy everything around me,” thought Tara, “before memory begins to curl into a small seed.” He stretched to sniff a fragile yellow orb of a weed and pricked himself. Along with the red nose, he was beginning to lose experience.
- 4 -
Evening came, and the cold. Bracing for a long night, Tara nuzzled himself into the pink moss, and, hanging his head on a coral tree with a fuzzy trunk, started a long and mournful song which, for some reason, the Kuinas feared.