I’ve been told I’m very lucky, even though I don’t always believe that to be true. But I suppose I am, if I think about it hard enough. Earth seems to be falling into a state of disarray from what I’ve heard; conflicts and war raging all over, people running a mad race to the hills, many never successfully balancing their lives all the way past that finish line. I have never seen war, never seen that side of the world. I don’t think I would like it very much, if I did.
I live with my mother out on a distant island, the Isle of Whispers, and I have been here since my birth. I spend my time listening to things like Stars, which all wink at me with their single eyes, and Moon, who sings lullabies every night when I go to sleep. I listen to the songs of wise old Wind as they flit and flutter around me and hear the angry crashing of stormy Ocean as they bellow out cries of warning and unrest. I feel the steadiness of mighty Ground, chanting of strength and stability, and the crack-crack-crackle of protective Flame, who can be both loving and raging in different times. I should listen to Sun too, but I never really do, as Sun can sometimes be obnoxious, (but don’t tell anyone I said that!)
I love them all, and they all love me back. Right now, I’m sitting out here on the Grass with the distant fog over the choppy waves of the Ocean, and this is what I think about; how much they all mean to me, and how much I want to protect them at any cost. Wind has been singing melodies that have had a more urgent tone to them lately, and I am struggling to figure out what they have to say. They don’t communicate through words like we are doing now, none of my friends do. Their ideas are all expressed through emotion and thought, and I do think that it’s good that they do this; words would be too limiting for their ideas.
I hear a “HOOOoooooooo, Hoo, Hoo,” from behind me and laugh. It’s my good friend Arlay! “I guess you wanted to be included too, didn’t you?” I say to him as he flies down and rests on my shoulder. “I wasn’t going to forget you, you know. Have you ever heard about saving the best for last?” Arlay is a Mourning Dove; one of the few who still roams this island my mother and I call home. He is immensely loyal to me, and a great companion of mine; I am always grateful for him being around.
He nuzzles my neck, and I stroke his head feathers in return. I look out at the vast swaths of clouds that block the setting sun for now, and I hear the distant sound of Ocean’s waves crashing against the shore. “I’m scared,” I admit to Arlay, still caressing his perfectly-shaped head. “My other friends have become more erratic lately; more worried of what’s to come. Wind is behaving in a more serious manner, I feel ripples of agitation and fury from Ocean more and more. Ground is as steady as ever, but I can sense tremors and quakes that they seem to be trying to hide. And Flame is evermore growing stronger and crackling with anticipation. Why is this happening?”
Arlay says nothing, for he’s a Mourning Dove, and they also do not speak in words. But as Arlay turns to face me, and I face him, we look into each other's eyes and I suddenly feel the world around us change. I see devastation rolling across the island; Sky being choked with clouds of ash and sadness. My beautiful home, crumbling into ruin around me while my mother is trying to hold back crowds of metal Men. I see her point at me and mouth the word “Go!” as echoing calls of Crows fill the air, and I see Arlay, growing bigger and bigger and shining like a beacon of pure light against the hellscape of my home, and he’s bringing me to the edges of the island, and leading me away into the ocean.
“Mom!” I yell, as I whip my head around and fall onto moist grass. “Arlay, we have to go back, we have to help her, we have to help the island! Come on, take me back! Please!” I start softly crying, with my face buried in the embrace of Ground. I suddenly see a little Caterpillar scurrying across Ground, and as I look at it in surprise, I slowly lift my head, and around me, I see the beautiful island, my home, safe and sound, very intact, and absolutely not being strangled by destruction. I feel the presence of Wind rustling across my back in a comforting sort of way, not like screeching tempests of helpless fury and despair I felt from them moments earlier. Slowly, I turn around and look at Arlay- or where Arlay should be, but he is gone. Surprised, I look around, and I spot him flying away to the other side of the island, going to do who knows what.
What was that? I think to myself. It felt so real, as if it was happening right here, right around me. Did Arlay do that? Was that a warning, was it a vision? I had read some books where the main characters had premonitions of the future. Was that what just happened to me?
In the place of setting Sun, another friend of mine is climbing through the Sky. Moon rises higher and higher in the shade of the night, illuminating Ground with a silver undertone of soft light. Wind soars over and whirls around my head, sending my thoughts spinning around. Devastation. Desperation. Sky-choking. Flame roaring in anger.
My heart is still doing a “ba bum-ba, ba bum-ba, ba bum-ba” of worry and fear, and though I feel waves of comfort and tranquility from Moon, it helps very little. As the last beam of light from Sun drifts below the horizon while the luminescent fireflies start to make themselves known to the night, I cannot help but wonder about what I had just seen. I think I now might understand a bit more about the urgency in what Wind was trying to tell me.
Is that what’s going to happen to my home? Can I stop it?