The Woman and the Sun
By: Reed Venrick
Aztec prayer said at deathbeds: “You have passed through the labors of life,
And now the gods knock at your door. But do not fear. Lying there beside
the specter of death, a child waits to be born.”
That afternoon I drove my jeep into the forest
Of mahogany and thatch palms, drove as far
As the crushed-shell road ran along the island
Coast—braked in the shade of cabbage palms,
Threw my key into the cattails, grabbed my purse
And hammock, ran through the understory and
Under peeling gumbo-limbo trees to see the late sun.
Between two royal palms, I hooked up, took a deep
Breath and flopped back into the hammock. Whispered:
“Here’s where I’ll end my crazy days on this virus-
Infested earth, but out here I can breathe my last—at least
Here the air is clean, not like that hospital in Miami,
Where the others went, but where I’m not going back.”
Though humid, the air was breezy, easy to inhale; it
Cleared my congested lungs. In the trees above, I
Heard the mournful moans of the mourning doves
In the buttonwood and pigeon plum trees—they would
Elegize my last afternoon. Sweat wet my hair and salt
Burned my eyes—fever singed my forehead. I closed
My eyes and searched for a quiet place to calm
My rapid-beating heart. But as I neared the silent edge
Of sleep, something moved between me and the low,
Horizontal sun—a key deer looking to forage? But
Opening my eyes, I saw the figure of a tall woman
Standing some twenty yards away. She stood inside
A thicket of saw palmettos and under a thatch palm—
Stood boldly upright—framed by the sun’s circle.
The golden light beamed horizontally through the brush
And around her body—long swords of light blazed
Through the sharp palmetto fronds, but the manner that
She stared at me, not saying a word, gave me chills
Down to my toes. I could barely raise my head, but
I took a breath and yelled out: “Who are you?
No answer came back. I took another breath and called
Again: “Look I”m asking you…why are you standing there?”
But I heard nothing from the woman, who stood there
Boldly inside the circle of the setting sun. Why just stare
At me like that? I felt the seconds tick by like minutes.
Finally she spoke a language that I had never heard, yet
Though I did not understand her words, somehow I got
Her message—something about the sun and earth. Now
I did not doubt that I’d entered another dimension of space
And time, I guessed I was dying. “So you are from the sun?
You’re a messenger sent to bring me to my next stop? I only
Hope that stop is not hotter than here on this island key.”
The birds above hushed. The distant sandhill cranes ceased
Their honking—not even sounds from those raucous limpkins
Or imitating mockingbirds or shrilling blue jays. I felt a spark
Of electricity run up and down my spine, and my throat
Turned dry—weirdly, I became aware that below me, the grass
Grew under my hammock, and above, leaves lengthened.
But the woman blatantly continued to stare and communicate
Nothing more in her silent language, and weird as well was
Her apparel. Not just made of gold, but a fabric style, partly
That of a medieval knight, yet partly a cloth that seemed
Made from chain mail, and yet a coverall design made from
A high-tech suit of astronauts—it encapsulated her body.
I struggled up—the blood throbbing in my temples.
My pounding heart was shaking my body, my heart rocking
The hammock under me and tingling my sweating blouse.
Then, my fever turned—I felt cold in the tropical humid, heat,
I rolled deeper into the hammock and shivered, and
I clutched the silver .380 mm that I took from my purse.
As I stared, her face focussed—I flinched, I saw that beneath
The helmet, her face was my own. Shocked me, but I managed
To ask myself why this was surprising, if I were already dead.
But suddenly, she vanished, as if a spotlight were turned off
Or as if she were deleted from a screen. I lay back, I groaned,
I struggled to breathe. My head was dizzy. I clutched
My pistol, but to my great surprise, my racing heart began
To slow down and even settled and smoothed—drowsy again,
And for the first time in two days, I slept. When I woke, the sun
Was still blazing horizontally, but now it was shining from
The opposite direction. The night had passed, now the air was
Fresh with dawn. I touched my face, my forehead had cooled.
I swung out of the hammock, I ran through the forest hammock
Until I found my jeep. Now where had I thrown those damn keys?
Reed Venrick lives and writes on the Florida key islands.