Crimson Moss

By Gauri Naik

There are shackles around me, but I break free and run into the dense forest. I crawl myself into the grove of some tree's roots and lie there, the moss spreading over me, covering me, hiding me from the monster that seeks to appease his hunger by devouring me, blood, flesh and soul. 

The forest creatures then, sensing my dread, came to my aid, weaving their webs and building their nests around me. "Nothing here but us", they seem to say, holding their ground as the monster looms closer. The snake then slithers in, coiling itself tightly around me, whispering, "They won't touch you with me here". I sobbed then, feeling that unconditional love, only Gaia has for her kids, and it rains. "I am with you," she seemed to say, and I breathed a little easier. 

But the monster is near, and we all sense it. So we lay still, giving nothing away. For a fortnight, then he keeps vigil, for a fortnight, then Selene vacates the night sky, refusing to assist the monster. 

Then one morning, the monster is gone, and we all breathe freely until a child steps forward, asking for my help. 

And I feel the change even as the creatures sense something amiss. They move and shift ever so slightly, enough for the child to reach me. 

Please, he says, I'm no longer a monster. Yet, his claws then tear up my shoulder.

I howl in pain as crimson rivers flow. 

The serpent then raises itself, fangs bare, it says, "A chance to redemption you lost, now consequences must therefore be borne". 

The serpent bites the monster, and he staggers to the ground, withering in pain until life itself escapes him. The Sun then comes, burning the monster to ashes, scattered to the four directions by the winds. 

The forest creatures then turn, guilt-ridden for falling for the illusion. The serpent but speaks, "You shall remain hopeful for change, my fellow creatures, and I shall be the skeptical protector". 

The spider then weaves my wound close, my head bowed in gratitude as one by one the creatures retreat. What do I do now, I ask the serpent. 

"Learn from me", it says, "shed your skin and begin anew."

By Gauri Naik