Down to Earth

For the challenge by MacKenzie Davis, https://vocal.media/writers/official-unofficial-ekphrastic-challenge-rules by MacKenzie Davis,

for the picture contributed by Poppy (https://vocal.media/authors/poppy-x6cb08zj).

DOWN TO EARTH

I was in paradise. I had my shoes off and felt the cool runnings of the clear water between my toes. The current was brisk, underscored by the smoothness of the variegated stones beneath my feet.

There was a tingling sensation, too, but I trudged on.

I set my sight on a horizon of sorts, the top of the stream source flanked by trees. My goal. To cover the entire expanse. To conquer it and make it mine.

Inexplicably, I grew shorter.

My heels were gone, forcing me to balance on those parts of my feet where toes met foot. I rose to the challenge. I reviewed my progress. This part of my conquest was easy. It was low-haning fruit. Who needs heels anway? Just ask Achilles.

I grew shorter, still.

Victory over my task was getting more arduous. It was only fair, though. You cannot take and take by taking it for granted. I had to earn my progress. Soon I found I was walking on stumps, and no longer on my feet. But it didn't hurt. Not at all.

What lurked beneath? I did not care, for I was above it. I could not be stopped. I made manifest, destiny — to reach the source of the water, no matter what. What drew me to my goal? My destination? I did not know. I did not care. But I would know it when I got there.

I grew shorter again.

I was walking on stumps which were my ankles. I adjusted my center of gravity to new and strange proprioception. I adapted. I was malleable. I pressed on.

I grew shorter, yet again.

I was walking on the midshafts of my shins. Strangely, there was no pain. No blood. And, surprisingly, no alarm. It felt like the most natural thing in the world. After all, I was making progress.

In this world of life-giving water and clarity, my quest began getting muddied. I was walking on kneecaps now, and as if in judgment of me, by the stream, the water was growing deeper. The prospect of a tight race between my shortening and the water's depth was exhilarating. There is life in peril; without it there is no living!

I sauntered on my hip sockets. Amputational karma haunted me, but I was not afraid. I was confident and resolute. It was I, after all!

I AM THE ONE WITH THE QUEST. I AM THE CONQUERER FOR THE TASK ASSIGNMED ME. BY ME.

The to-and-fro of my pelvic girdle was as a dance with the water. It was choreography. I imagined hearing music. Terpsichore helf my hand, but Melpomene watched from behind us. I churned what remained of my mitigated gait. The water grew deeper. I pressed on. I would win this race!

Now I had only my shoulder girdle to support me. My heart was gone — sacrificed to my holy mission. And with it my conscience. My entrails trailed, leaving a trustworthy tracing for those who would follow, to follow. They would think of me. They would know that dominating this river, née, stream, was possible because it had been done. It had been me who had succeeded.

The rapids ahead did not frighten me.

My only means of locomotion was my skull, its mandibular articulations providing the thrust to send me forward in spasmodic fits and jerks. Finally, when that final joint had disarticulated, sending my jaw under the froth, I was as just my head. My mind. My obscession.

It was indeed a tight race, as the turbulence tossed what was left of me, who sputtered and spit, to breathe.

I sank below the cresting tide and was one with the Earth. The Earth won.

My biggest mistake wasn’t trying — bravely or foolishly, or both — to do it without toes, feet, hips, shoulders, or jaw. My biggest mistake was not being wise enough to know what I was up against — that some agendas are bigger than me.