Joanne’s Cabin – Part 8

Swirling curling rainbow mist

The girls tip-toe over the soft spots and leap from stone to stone. The air is thick with the scent of churning water. It is a warm day but a mist swirls around their bodies as if they are swimming through the air. Liz half expects a little trout to slip past as they push through the air currents. If one did, it would not be the greeny-brown lake trout piled high in the bottom of the hundred and eighty-foot-deep basin that Big Wolf Cliff looks down into. It would most definitely be a rainbow trout because as they get closer to the rushing water, rainbows pattern the sky where the sun streaks through the mist layered so densely that the entire sky is blanketed with soft warm colours. Their feet disappear as the mist becomes cottony clouds below them.

“I wonder if this is how Heaven feels?” Liz asks.

“I do not know Heaven.”

“No? Do you believe in God?”

“God?”

“The Creator of the world?”

“The world was created so long ago. Why would I know anything about that?”

“Well, God didn’t just make the world and disappear.”

“No?”

“He is always with us.”

“Oh, okay. I know him then. I did not know his name was God.”

“You know Him?”

“Sure, how can you feel the life in the woods without wondering who maintains and cares for it? I sure do not. I live off the goodness it gives me and it sustains me. I do not sustain it. I give it nothing but my love. He shows his love by gifting me sustenance and peace.”

They stop next to a tall poplar. Joanne takes Liz’s hand. “Sit down with me, Liz. I do this when life feels too hard or the world far too big.”

They sink together onto a soft mount of damp moss and the cloud engulfs them. There is nothing but whiteness. Liz pushes back into the strength of the tree. She doesn’t feel comforted—she feels trapped. Joanne squeezes her hand and her warmth settles her nerves.

“Close your eyes.”

“Okay.” she replies, sucking in a long jagged breath.

“Once you settle, tell me what you feel.”

Liz sits very still, calming her breath and the urge to flee from this cocoon of air.

What’s that? Liz wonders, as minuscule prickles creep across her bare skin. She releases a sharp breath and the prickles dance on her chin.

“Resist the urge to open your eyes.”

Liz scrunches them tighter and the sensation changes. It begins to feel more like tiny bubbles popping across her skin than prickles. As she breathes in the damp air, the bubbles explode, releasing fresh fir and juniper into her sinuses. With each breath her nose feels lighter and clearer. Her lungs grow with the fullness of the air. Her guts wake up, alive and energized. The stirring inside her sparks from each pore and the air around her becomes charged with electricity, lifting her hair like a halo.

It is hard to sit still with so much energy bobbing inside and around her. The microscopic dancers grow, rolling across her body like a gentle massage. Around and around, enlarging with each cycle. She grabs Joanne’s hand tightly as the bubbles push in around her. She no longer feels alive but trapped once more. Joanne squeezes back gently but it doesn't calm her this time. She gulps down a huge bubble. It doesn't pop like the smaller ones. Instead it slowly sinks into her stomach like a long balloon that a clown twists and shapes into a delightful animal. But, it does not delight her. She gags, her hand repels to her throat, and her eyelids fly apart. The girls are no longer on the ground.

Joanne’s long eyelashes bat open. She smiles at Liz and slides her free hand along the membrane that surrounds them. They have been swallowed by huge golden bubble.