The Steps of Time

Tariza sat on the steps of time. Her mind was in a mess. Her life had become turmoil and uncertainty. It wasn’t a good place to be. She looked back and saw the highs and lows of her life. She also saw that at this point a mountain had appeared out of all the debris, right there in front of her.

The mountain blocked the view to her future. She sat there contemplating the mountain. What would it take to climb the mountain, she thought. Tariza looked up the mountain which now seemed even larger. As she did so the shadow it cast over her deepened and her world seemed even more bleak. The mountain seemed almost insurmountable. Yet she had the thought, what would it take?

When she looked up at the mountain again, a spark of hope ignited in her heart. A bird appeared, circling above, white and shining in an invisible sun. The bird gave her hope as somewhere in the recesses of her mind she knew the sun shone somewhere else in the world. Tariza had a glimpse of confirmation. The bird had come from another place. Not where she sat now, but from a place unknown that could be near or far.

She shifted uneasily on the steps. Could this be a sign? A sign of what, the voice in her head fired back. The hopeless voice, the weak voice, the voice of the debris and the mind trash. The ants.

She stopped in her tracks and realised the destructive voice inside her was the enemy. The enemy that pervaded her mind and took over her life. The voice that led her to the mountain. The steps of time were always there. They did not disappear no matter where she went. The steps of time just were. They were her steps. Her footsteps had built the staircase on which she now sat. She could look back, but she could not see beyond them as she looked forward.

A sarcastic laugh escaped Tariza’s lips as she realised the mountain was all hers. ‘My mountain’ she said out loud. The mountain rumbled. The trash seemed to roll in motion. All parts equal and all parts making the whole. The mountain had a life of it’s own.

She sat and let her mind wander and her eyes glaze over. The mist of time formed the fog of ages that also obstructed the view. Tariza couldn’t even see the top of the mountain now, as it was obscured from sight. The great looming beast became lost in the calm of oblivion. The soft greyness of nothingness and the unknown.

Tariza closed her eyes for a moment lost in the despair of the shadow and the fog. What do I do when there is no path ahead of me she thought. Clearly I am lost and yet I am sitting down. Once again a tiny laugh escaped her as she considered the irony of her thought. That’s funny to have the thought clearly, when nothing at all is clear. Am I afraid to go on blindly?

She thought of the steps, what would happen if she moved one step forward, blindly. 'At this point you could fall into the abyss' was the answer that came from the ants.

What would it take to crush the ants? Where did that thought even come from? It seemed to come from deep inside her. The ants were like a brigade that trampled over every positive thought. An army of self-destruction that had taken over the roads in her mind.

‘Big headed ants are taking over the Territory’. She chuckled as she remembered the headline from the news so long ago and how she had thought it sounded like a B-grade movie. Now she was the star of her own B-grade and it wasn’t such a great role. In fact, at this particular moment, she considered the movie, what would she do in a movie like this she thought? If she stayed in it surely the ants would win.

What do other actresses do in a situation like this? A movie has a duration. The actress sometimes dies, or she becomes a heroine. Hmmm, my choice she thought. How to kill the ants is the problem. Now you are thinking like a heroine. Never say die. Never give up no matter how big the mountain. Tariza felt the spark of empowerment rise within like a seed of hope, of desires that hadn’t dared to rise out of the dirt.

As the hope fluttered, the fog lifted a little and she could see the mountain again. This time, instead of looking at the enormity of the mountain, she looked at what she could see right in front of her. The stuff of the mountain. The mountain was built from the debris of shit and chaos. It was crawling with ants.

This time though, Tariza looked at the mountain with detachment and considered again, what it would take to kill the ants? What would it take to shift the debris and see what is beyond the mountain?

The spark of hope grew stronger within, like an eternal flame that wouldn’t go out. She looked again at the debris and notice that a package had appeared right there in front of her. It had tumbled out of the debris. It must have been the rumble, Tariza thought.

She inspected the package with her eyes as she sat there. Should I pick it up? She looked again. The package seemed innocent enough. It was covered in brown paper and had no inscription on it, yet it had appeared right there in front of her, as though a gift from the heavens.

Hope fluttered again. She remembered the story of Pandora’s box and as she did the ants moved more rapidly on the mountain and the shadow seemed to swirl a little more, and yet the box sat there devoid of ants. It even seemed to glow a little, like a light in the shadows that softly called her name.

Tariza sat in self reflection. She thought of all the things in life that had given her joy, of the times where she felt empowered, when her skills and knowledge had been shared and how that had sparked life in her and seeded life in other areas. She considered the ants that had somehow crept across the steps of time and started swallowing the joy and robbing her of her gifts.

She looked up. The white bird had returned and circled once again. Shining, soaring, free. It must be a sign. With that thought she picked up the box and carefully plucked a the string. The string fell of onto the ground into a spiral that glowed.

Tariza peeled back the layers of brown paper and as she did they dissolved into ash and fell upon the earth. She feared not as hope was at the helm right now.

The box within was a plain square cardboard box. It didn’t look like much but the excitement rose within her like a child at her birthday. Her hand almost trembled with anticipation. What was in the box, she knew not, and somehow what ever it was, it offered hope.

The moment of truth pierced her heart as she held tightly to the box and reached for the flap. She wasn’t letting go of this moment as it was the only moment at that moment.

She raised the lid and looked inside. The contents shocked her with their simplicity and yet she had not experienced such a rush in a very long time. a little white feather glowed in the box. It lifted slightly and settled in her hand like a gift from the heavens. She looked up and the winged messenger glowed circling high above her head. She realised it was a white dove. The symbol of peace she thought.

The feather on her hand fluttered and tickled lightly and a trickle of light seemed to fill bher body and mind with the hope of angels.

But wait, there was one more thing in the box. What was it? Just a small torn piece of white paper. She looked at it more closely and picked it up. There was an inscription in the most beautiful script she had ever seen.

The note said. ‘YOU ARE THE PACKAGE’. The words crossed her mind like indelible ink. You are the package. I am the package she thought. What does it mean? As she contemplated the deeper meaning she realised her gifts of life were all so simple. They were the gifts that she shared with others.

The gifts of life are free she thought and should be given freely when the time arrives. She contemplated her own gifts, the gifts of knowledge and skills that she had earned over the years. How these gifts had helped others find their path and how her path had become unclear when she stopped sharing and doubted the very thing that had been joyful.

The gifts were her strength, her tools, and her armour. Her shovel, her spade, her wing, and her wand.

Time stopped for a moment as she straightened herself up. As she did so she looked again at the feather. The feather rose up in front of her eyes, glowing in the sun. The sun, she thought. With surprise she looked up and realised the mountain had dissolved into time, and Hope Valley was laid out in front of her, glistening in light particles. Tariza reached out her arm and pointed forth. The feather rose again and this time settled on her arm, dissolving into an indelible tattoo. A tattoo that glowed with light.

She looked up again and the bird flew forward leading the way toward Hope Valley.

This story by Jacki Fleet was created for the Vocal fiction challenge. It responds to the prompt of including an unexpected brown paper package.