The following piece was inspired by a photograph I took on Keeney Pass in Oregon while on a lengthy bicycle ride. This is known as Ekphrasis, which defined by Merriam-Webster is "a literary description of a visual work of art." It is also known as a "talking painting" by the use of a poem or prose work of art.
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On a High Desert Road – chapter one from Hawktown, The Blank - 2055
A little girl sat at her desk. The desk her Daddy and
Mommy bought for her birthday – before Mommy died. Her coloring pencils in the
pink cubby drawer emerged from the grip of her delicate hand. She filled the
page with a hawk on a telephone pole – and with fallen lines draped over the
shoulder of the road. In the background, green mountains with a sunrise that
beamed from her eyes filled the page. But the beam turned to screams from
outside her window. Daddy rushed into her room. He scooped her up, but she
resisted his plea to leave. He grabbed a duffel bag to fill with as many of her
clothes as he could find. She stole a peek out the window and gulped. He urged
her to step away. She stood like one of her dolls in the corner – unable to
move. Eyes widened – unable to blink. She carried the same plain stare when her
daddy buckled her seatbelt. He placed her favorite bright green backpack next
to her. The garage door opened like a veil lifted, revealing the madness. She
cried. Not out of fear. Daddy was there. She pointed at the bed of the pickup
and cried about her pink cubby filled with her drawing pencils. The chair and
pink drawer were not in the back of the truck. But the screams in the streets
screeched. Cars and trucks swerved and dodged each other. Others collided into
fences and into each other. Some nameless men and women pounded on their truck
as they emerged from the driveway. The people begged. And screamed. Many
suddenly and mysteriously went silent and walked quietly away. Down the street,
thousands and thousands seemed to roam mindlessly.
Daddy saw his little girl in the mirror. She gasped
whenever someone lunged for the truck. She screamed. Something stung her in the
neck. She smacked it like swatting a mosquito. Daddy smacked his neck as well.
More and more of those running suddenly stopped and held their respective
necks. And then more and more people simply turned around and started walking
in the other direction. Their faces expressionless. Their eyes blank.
Daddy peered into his rearview and asked, “Baby, you
okay?”
“Don’t ask,” she held her chest.
“Just breathe, baby. Slowly, in and out,” he said as
calmly as he could.
His little girl closed her eyes and breathed in slowly,
and out slowly.
Daddy weaved his way out of the neighborhood. To the left
on unfamiliar streets. Bright, multi-blue hues glowed and mixed with unnerving
lightning strikes from the direction of Portland International Airport. Daddy
drove and drove past the city limits – east on Highway 84. The little girl had
calmed enough to take a peek into her daddy’s rearview mirror. He drove all
morning and all afternoon until they were in the rolling high-desert, off the
main highway. Before them, the mountains stood off in the distance.
Before them, a place to pull over. They had driven
without a break. Daddy slowed his truck and took a peek at his little girl.
Asleep. Not a soul in front or behind on the long rolling road. Time to stop.
He gently woke is little girl. Her brown curls were a touch matted, but a
subtle breeze blew her hair back when she hopped out of the truck. He
encouraged her not to wander. But across the highway was a curious shape. It
was a broken chair. A wood chair like hers – but not. And behind it, in the
thicket of dry grass, was a pink cubby drawer. Shadows draped on the dusty
earth from the broken chair and the drawer on the rocky shoulder of the road.
Tears fell from a nearby wounded storm cloud. She looked into her daddy’s eyes
and asked to take a picture. She started to cross the highway but was
immediately reprimanded. Her steps returned to her truck. Daddy took the
picture. He then looked at the pavement filled with tire marks. Perhaps yahoos
had been burning rubber in the middle of nowhere. Without giving it further
thought, he placed his little girl back into the pickup that was too tall for
her. Slowly, they rolled back onto the highway.
But the next rise in the road at Keeney Summit revealed
another pickup truck. It had rolled off the highway. One tire still spun from the
recent accident or the effects of the desert wind. Daddy continued to drive.
Focused on the road as fatigue began to take its toll. Through the rain-spotted
window, the little girl saw two figures off to the side of the road. One of the
figures was a woman. She frantically waved at them as she ran and limped toward
the highway. Her coarse hair was dramatically affected by the rain. Though the
little girl and her daddy could not hear the woman, it was apparent that her
shouts were a plea for help. The woman continued to approach the road. She
waved her arms. Her limp lessened with determination. The little girl looked at
the back of her daddy’s head. Her eyes widened. Before her mouth opened, she
looked at the woman, who clearly bled from her face and onto her jacket. With
each step, her feet carved a slice into the soft earth as she limped. The woman
reached the edge of the road, and to the little girl’s surprise, another little
girl. The rain subsided. The woman closed her eyes and took a deep breath. A
lightning strike flashed off in the distance. Her black face glimmered with
tears and hair damp from the rain. The other little girl looked up and held a
piece of paper above her head in an appeal of desperation. It was obscured by
the rain-distorted window. Daddy slowed down. Closer and closer. Now, it was
clear, the paper was filled with a drawing of a hawk flying away over distant
mountains with a setting sun – slightly blurred from the light rain.
“Stop!” Daddy’s little girl screamed, “Please, Daddy –
stop.”
Their truck came to an abrupt halt. Daddy examined the
eyes of his little girl. She returned his with a smile. He rolled down the
passenger window as the woman and her little girl approached. An everlasting
gratitude washed over their faces as they carried three bags between them – and
a backpack by the little girl. As twilight passed, glimmering lights in the
distance behind them flashed and darted over the horizon of the road. Daddy
urged them to get into his truck immediately. The woman secured her little girl
in the back seat next to daddy’s little girl. Her limp prevented her from
hopping into the truck. Daddy reached across the cab and pulled the woman into
the passenger seat. Now the truck was filled with four. Daddy started the truck
and glanced at the woman. Her bleeding had stopped, but Daddy provided her with
napkins and water from the glovebox. Daddy’s little girl looked square into the
other little girl’s eyes. She reached into her backpack and pulled out her
latest drawing of the hawk and mountains. The other little girl’s tears dried
to reveal a hesitant yet everlasting smile.
“My name is Ellie. What’s yours?” Daddy’s little girl
asked.
The other little girl held her drawing tightly, “Ruth.”
Daddy held out his right hand to the woman.
She shook his hand with her left and quickly pulled it
away.
“Josh,” he introduced himself.
“Hannah,” she replied – reserved and cautious as she
looked up the road.
~
In literature, the hawk is a metaphor for a grasp on reality. Sometimes, we lose that grasp. And other times, we find others to help us. Also, please enjoy a haiku from the novel, Hawktown.
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Please click the following link to read more of Hawktown, The Blank - 2055 on Fan Fiction.
