Aria Remains

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Aria and Alice, the old woman she had met when she first emerged from the trees, trying to hide her nakedness, had become, at least by her consideration, friends. Still without remembrance of who she was or where she had been before, Aria had looked to Alice to provide her comfort, to offer her guidance and support and this she did, in her own awkward and uncomfortable way. It was clear that she had been alone for a very long time, such was her clumsy conversation and fumbling succour. Aria would often catch her deep in thought, looking into the forest or out across the ocean as though she were looking for an answer or waiting for something to happen, and still felt there was something she wasn’t telling her. Nonetheless, she began to care for the old woman and knew that, without her, after what she imagined must have been several weeks, it was likely she would be dead.

They spent their days preparing food at Alice’s small plot, planting and cultivating various plants and herbs and, once twilight crept onto them, sitting on small wooden stools beside the shabby hut, looking up at the stars, listening to their song. Aria assumed that it must be early summer, since the days were lengthening and becoming warmer, yet there were no birds singing, no insects, no movement or signs of life at all other than the two women. And Dog.

Sometimes Alice would disappear for hours at a time, yet would not tell Aria where she had been upon her return. Aria would see her heading in the direction of the forest, or else she would go the other way, where Alice had warned her from going herself.

‘There be nothing yonder for thee, child,’ she would say. ‘No need for thee to spare any thought to going out there.’

Although finding it strange, Aria agreed, assuming the old woman was concerned for her safety, that she didn’t want her to become lost again. Perhaps the landscape would prove difficult to navigate, or would turn into something of a maze. Perhaps there were hidden dangers, hidden drops or secluded trenches from which she would find it impossible to escape.

She was otherwise left to do as she wanted for a great deal of the time, exploring the surrounding countryside, trying to find anything she might recognise, anything that would remind her of herself and who she was. Dog would usually accompany her as though keen to show her around, to stop and sniff and bark for Aria to examine what he had found. Somehow he didn’t seem so old, so decrepit as he had when she first saw him, growling as she gave up her inadequate hiding place amongst the wood. He would now run and jump, chase the sticks she threw for him and, when they rested, he would gaze at her with attentive happiness, his tongue hanging from one side of his mouth, his coat flecked with specks of grass and dirt.

He would often pause at a peculiar lump in the grass, a short way from Alice’s hut. It was a strange mound that looked as though it was covering a sleeping figure, huddled into the earth against the world.

‘What’s that?’ Aria would ask, and Dog would bark his reply, dropping to the ground, tail wagging. Sometimes he would wander around and investigate the mound and Aria would occasionally walk over to it, too, wondering if she was only imagining the slight drop in temperature as she stood close to it. She would look up and around her, yet they were never in shade. Then she would think that it had not rained, not a single drop, the whole time she had been there, and that notwithstanding the lack of insects and birds, or any other people, it was not such a bad place to be. On some days she was sure she had seen a line of bustling beetles close to the mound, looking as though they were trying to find a way inside but, moving closer to see more clearly, she found nothing.

One bright but stifling afternoon Dog lead her farther than they had been before, through a long, narrow valley lined by a sad gallery of dry and dying vegetation that had long-ago accepted its fate, weakened even more by the bitter irony of waiting so patiently for water while, just at the end of the pass, so much rushed by without purpose or consideration. A wide and boisterous river moving as though propelled with tremendous urgency, the reflected sunlight almost blinding Aria as they sat at its gravel shore.

‘Where does this go to?’ she asked.

Dog made a snuffling sound as though he were about to sneeze, quickly shook his body and began walking to the right. Aria stood to look in the same direction, seeing only the water disappearing from view between hills on either shore. The opposite bank was filled by woodland, while several hundred feet to their left the water once again twisted around a tight, obfuscating corner. Dog sat and barked as he reached a spot several yards along the shore but, when Aria had walked to where he sat waiting she saw nothing different, could find no reason why he would stop there other than to point her to a strange, twisted arrangement of branches that seemed to have grown directly from the low hillside. Having looked at her for several seconds, his head angled to one side, he got to his feet and ran back towards the valley, pausing to look over his shoulder and barking again as if impatient for Aria to join him. Having waited for her to arrive, he then trotted away happily once more, pausing on the journey back along the dale to mark his presence at several browned shrubs and trees as he went.

‘Don’t you ever get lonely?’ she asked him as they slowly wandered through the valley. ‘Don’t you ever wish you had other dogs to play with?’

Dog looked up at her quizzically, almost as if he had never even considered the concept that there may be other dogs in the world, that he wasn’t the only one of his species.

‘How long have you been here?’ she asked, at which he rushed off again, chasing a leaf caught in a slight breeze, jumping to catch it in his mouth and then spitting it out with an expression of disappointment.

That night, as the light faded towards dusk and Aria, Dog and Alice were sitting outside the hut, enjoying the warmth in the air, looking up at the stars and the bright summer moon, the old woman suddenly stood from her stool.

‘There be something for me to see to,’ she said. ‘Thee and Dog stay, for I shan’t be away for long.’

As she walked away in the direction she had told Aria to avoid, Aria looked down at Dog and he looked up at her before turning back towards his mistress. He appeared to be considering whether he should follow her or, instead, stay where he was. He shook his head, flapping his ears, looked again at Aria and then settled back onto the grass.

‘What’s she up to?’ Aria said quietly, wondering if she should pursue the old woman, wanting to know just what it was about the area she wasn’t allowed to visit. If she followed, she thought, keeping Alice in sight, carefully walking where she walked, surely she would be able to circumvent any unseen pitfalls.

For a couple of minutes she slowly stroked Dog’s head, gazed into the distance of the darkening sky and ran her fingers through her hair, flattening it out and twisting strands between her fingers. Finally she said to Dog, ‘You stay here, I’m just going to see what she’s doing,’ then quietly got to her feet and began walking away. Dog sat up, his head tilted, ears pricked, then yawned and lay down again. As he drifted off to sleep he thought about the proposition that there could be other dogs in the world, imagining there might be a whole town of them somewhere, a whole canine civilisation with its own customs and legends.

The old woman was already out of sight, disappeared amongst the gloom, but Aria could see enough to be sure she was not in any imminent danger and so moved with as much stealth as she could, skirting the edge of an open field, hoping the developing darkness would shield her from view as it had masked Alice. At the far end of the field she met a long, low wooden fence and then, having carefully climbed over it, began striding up a prolonged and vertiginous hill. Trees grew at scattered spots along the fell, meeting jutting rocks and slippery stretches of grass, and Aria found it difficult to ascend the slope while, at the same time, trying to stay as low and quiet as she could.

Eventually, as the air became more chilled, a breeze finding its way between the trees, she began to hear the sound of water. Unlike the river she had encountered earlier, this seemed a far greater body, much more powerful and, at last reaching the summit, she realised she had made her way to the edge of a cliff, an ocean moving below it. She gasped, turned to look around and then moved closer to the verge, cautiously looking down, wondering if she had found her way back to the rocks upon which she had first awoken at this place.

There were, however, no rocks at the base of the cliff, just a sheer drop directly into the water. So, if this wasn’t where she had first been, and since she had walked so far, did that mean she was on an island? Trapped on an island? She took a few steps back, closed her eyes and, forgetting her pursuit of Alice, sat on the dirt path with her head in her hands. The weeks she had been here, the passing of time with Alice and the enjoyment she had found while walking with Dog had almost made her forget that this couldn’t be the place she was supposed to be and that, even worse, she hadn’t come across any way to get back to the place from where she had come. Not that she had any more of an idea where that was than she had when she had first found herself here. Now, as dark thoughts of her plight, of the miserable, hopeless position she had found herself in returned to her, despite trying to fight the compulsion she could not stop herself crying.

What was she going to do? What can a person possibly do, knowing they’re not where they are meant to be and having no way of knowing how to get back to wherever it was they should be? It was all such a mystery, such a frightening, unjust paradox, and it was so close to being impossible, trying to find an answer when there wasn’t even a properly formed question. She had no clues, no hint of any reason or justification for this to be happening to her. Had she done something, been responsible for some heinous act that lead her to be abandoned in such a place, forsaken in such purgatory?

As the water crashed and spun beneath her, a bitter wind reaching up and grasping at her hair, her tears slowly began to subside and a new sense gripped her, a sense of purpose, a developing conviction that she should no longer allow herself to be a victim but, instead, she needed to find a way out for herself. Surely, she thought, this water, this ocean must lead somewhere and there must be a way for her to navigate it, to find her way out. Or, perhaps, this wasn’t an island and somewhere, maybe even somewhere quite close, there were other people, a community. Somewhere just beyond the trees that stood yards away from her, somewhere within walking distance.

Was that why Alice had forbidden her from venturing this far? Was the old woman trying to keep her here, forcing her to stay? Did she not want her to know that there was a chance for escape?

But why? What was it that the old woman saw in Aria that she found so compelling, that made her want to keep her all to herself? What was it that she could possibly offer her? What use could she, a person without memory, without history, without so much as a name, be to anybody else?

And why was she allowing it to happen? Why couldn’t she find her own way out of here?

She rubbed her face, got to her feet and began walking purposefully towards the trees, towards her escape. She would put up with this situation no more, she told herself, almost embarrassed at herself for having already stayed so long, for having almost having lost sight of her conviction, for letting her tears cloud her vision. She would find a way out, would take herself to other people, people who might know her, be able to tell her what was going on.

It was almost completely dark and, turning to look back, she could barely discern the hill she had climbed, could see almost nothing except the vague outlines of trees. Turning again she suddenly noticed what appeared to be a light somewhere amongst the thicket before her. She quickly ducked down, staring ahead. It was a small light, bright and glistening, and she couldn’t be sure whether it might be a fire or if, instead, it was actually more consistent than that, more like something static. She blinked a few times and then squinted at it, trying to imagine what possible kind of fire it could be that did not flicker, did not bear flames. How could such a thing be possible?

Maintaining her position, keeping her eyes fixed on the light and listening intently, she began to think she could hear something amidst the wind and the colliding waves of the water below. Yes, she thought, it’s someone talking. Quietly, almost whispering. It’s another person, someone who might be able to provide her the help she needed.

The words came sometimes at speed, sometimes much more slowly but, whatever their tempo, the language made no sense to her.

‘Astansis mentrosium,’ it sounded to Aria.

‘Retrustal et sanctonium, prespar son equitus non consumalay nostritious…’

The longer she listened to the bizarre rambling, and the closer she carefully drew herself to the edge of the trees, the more clearly she could hear the words reaching through the night.

‘Restrustal et recorium,’ they continued, ‘et sufficious son vitalies malestitious retrust agrandious.’

Aria, still hunched close to the ground, slowly weaved through the trees, pausing for several seconds after she realised the light had suddenly been quenched.

‘Mestronious et trailorium.’

Finally reaching the edge of the glade, Aria was shocked at what she saw. The area opened into what seemed to be the ruins of a hamlet, with damaged, disused huts, abandoned carts and broken fences. There was no one else around, no sign that anyone had been there for decades, yet still she could hear the mysterious voice and the strange words.

‘Flamino retrust, airsation retrust, aqualibrium retrust…’

It was getting louder now, the words delivered with more intensity as if reaching a crescendo.

‘Sodia retrust, exhalibrious et grantsage macimilion.’

There was a short pause and then, with a scream sounding as though it had been forced from the body through almost unbearable pain, ‘Retrustal, confinious et safetracto retrustal.’

From a large wooden building to her right, a structure that appeared in better repair than any of the others, came an explosion of sharp, bright light, streaming through the open doors and rising rapidly into the night. Aria gasped, hunched even lower and edged towards the seclusion of the trees behind her.

As the area fell into a heavy silence, a swathe of quietude so deep, so immense that Aria feared it might swallow the entire world, dousing not only all future sound but all of the sound already heard, erasing every conversation ever shared, every song ever performed, every lonely tree that ever fell in the woods, a figure emerged from the building. Walking slowly, purposefully, it appeared to be scattering something onto the ground ahead of it as it went. Aria peered forward, squinting her eyes, wondering who this could be, trying to understand what they were doing. The figure turned away from her, tracing a large circle before turning back towards the glade. Aria took another few steps back, rubbing the stiffness in her neck, twisting her head from side to side.

Then something snapped beneath her feet. It may have been a twig, may have been the carapace of a stag beetle or even the collarbone of a pirate who had come ashore in search of jewels and had then been forgotten by his crew, left alone for fifty years before finally capitulating to the coldest winter on record.

The figure stopped a hundred feet ahead, looking directly at Aria’s position for several seconds before continuing to walk and scatter what now seemed to be crackling, dried leaves. It was just then, as a thin shaft of moonlight broke free of its prison behind the clouds and fell across the area, lighting the face of the figure, that Aria was finally able to see who this person was.