A Kahlo Story New Year Flash Fiction

Kahlo, Anubis, and The Soldier Who Lay…

by Mami Watu

The sound of dogs barking let the soldier know she was still alive. What was it that her GeeGee had told her, about dogs being messengers?  Heat, blood, shrapnel.  Body parts littered about, none matching. Two, different-sized left legs with boots blown off, lay beside a head and torso. There were small piles of brains and entrails, as if someone had been tidying up.

“Yes,” a calming voice spoke beside her.  “Think of dogs.  Better yet, think of Anubis, the jackal.  He’s waiting patiently, to guide you on your journey.”  Her voice made a sound of protest, deep in her throat.  Pushing past the blood she was swallowing, it sounded like a chortle.  She turned her head stiffly in the direction of the voice.  Kahlo was perched there. Limbs akimbo, stretched in all four directions.  “You’re late,” the soldier managed, then turned away.  Kahlo was glad she had averted her eyes, rather her eye – as, half of the girl’s face had been blown away.

Seven hundred and eighty-one steps and still Kahlo folded inwards at the remnants of the simple small brutalities the creatures of this blue planet practiced.  Small, compared to some of the worlds-wide complex casualties that Kahlo had been called to step to.  “If they only knew what awaited them, Kahlo mused. They would forego inflicting such pain on one another.  They would treasure every breath, as well as all that breathes.”

“Beginning with their own breathing planet,” another voice growled. Both Kahlo and the Soldier-Who-Lay-Dying turned toward the new voice. “You’re early, she spat.  And I didn’t call you.  I called Kahlo.”

Anubis nodded in acknowledgement.  “True.  But Kahlo has such lofty ambitions.  Inter-galactic peace.  Sentient-evolution. Whereas, I’m here to ferry you from point A to point B; to help you navigate dark waters.” The girl interrupted, “But you’re also a messenger.  What’s your message?”  Anubis closed his eyes, and lifted his nose to the wind.  “Your GeeGee says, to pack light…”  Kahlo shook like one of the red maple trees the soldier remembered from home.  “Anubis, you never disappoint.”

“But I called for you, Kahlo,” the soldier insisted.  “And, I Am here.”  Kahlo answered.  Allowing these words to roll across the killing field.  The words unfolded into the hearts of those who lay, still clinging to life; into the departing souls of those already cold dead; and deep into this thirsty earth, which would rather have rain instead of this ceaseless river of human blood.

“You see?, Anubis smiled his jackal smile.  Lofty…”  The soldier heard the far-off sound of maple leaves rustling.  “Rest easy, Evolving One.  Anubis will see you safely to the Other Side, where your journey continues.  I will do what I can here, until I am called to step again.”  Kahlo’s senses swept across the field, forming a private prayer of hope, that the time to be spent here in the shadow of war, would be fleeting.

Anubis ducked his head toward Kahlo, “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”  He gathered up the Soldier-Who-Now-Lay-Dead.  He stood upright and began walking with her towards the horizon, where his barge awaited. “May Peace Be With You,” Kahlo whispered and turned to continue the work at hand.

Japanese-red-maple

c2015

dietramalik@gmail.com

  

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Kahlo By The Fire

Kahlo By The Fire

by Mami Watu

To say that Kahlo walks, is to speak in limited terms of a limitless BEing. We think of it as walking.  We even go as far as to call these appearances at different times, in different spaces, steps.  Seated around the fire, as we are now, we speak quietly of how Kahlo stepped to us, at this turn of  the third moon.

Our tones are low, strident, and filled with excitement as we click-speak to one another, as one.  The crab-like appendages extending from our arms, open and close rapidly as we try to impress upon Kahlo the importance of this step, this time.

All of this theater is ultimately unnecessary, as Kahlo knows good and well the reason for this step.  There is no such thing as stepping into the unknown.  Where Kahlo is from, where Kahlo IS, all things are known.  To know, is to BE…all ways, at all times.  I find myself drawn to this way. Seated around the fire, as we are now, the FireKeepers have asked me to absorb, and so I extend my tentacles, to join with all present, even Kahlo.   I am able to know as they know, but only for this moment.

Some, who have performed this duty, have found it to be an overwhelming of the senses, but I find this washing to be comforting.  I feel like I BElong to this present moment, completely.  Kahlo is thinking now, in waves. Wondering if we truly believe in the altruism of our motives, as deeply as we are presenting them.  I absorb this wonder, and pass it along to the FireKeepers.  A resounding, sensory silence follows.

And then, we seek to know, “Are we being judged?”  In giving this thought to Kahlo, I receive a simultaneous response.  “You are being asked to judge your own intuitions.  You have called me here, to help you gain footing, in a space that is not yours.  Because, you say, those EXISTing in this space are themselves interlopers.  You say, they are cruel to all that IS and do not deserve to BE.  So, I ask you, is your intuition to survive, or to conquer?”  My mind is opening, as Kahlo continues, “The answer to this QUESTion, leads me not to a judgement of your ALL, rather, it will show me which hand of evolution to extend.”

I want to get closer to Kahlo.  Not just to Kahlo, but closer to the ALL of those words just uttered.  There is a void in the moment, as the FireKeepers intuit.  In this breath, I push my perceptions forward, towards Kahlo.  I breathe back in, what I have pushed out and find it has changed. My perception has evolved.  I absorb this evolution, savor it for an eye-blink, and then I weave it, like a sensory quilt.  I wrap the knowing of the FireKeepers in this warmth.  And together, we absorb the shivers of our ALL, as we expand.

As I gracefully retract my tentacles, I send my gratitude forward to both Kahlo and to the FireKeepers.  From the ALL of my own, I am brushed by the sentiments of ,”New beginnings…”.  From Kahlo, I hear whisperings of, “…the 780th step.”.  From You, I sense, “Let it BE…”.  And so, we shall.

c2015 dietramalik@gmail.com