The Land We Live On
By: Christopher Davis
Tags: Environment, Creative Writing, Short Story, Gender, Legend

The Land We Live On

Photo by Michael on Unsplash

Many years ago an island rose from the sea. A block of broken glass, glittering just above the tide, just above the dark, cryptic ocean. The island held firm on the surface, like a fallen tree-trunk floating in a pool of calm water. Creatures from the deep bumped and flicked at the island, making it stronger. For each time they touched it, fractures sliced through the already broken glass, causing the life-bearing seawater around them to burrow into cracks, freeze, and in turn, strengthen the island by tying knots through it with silk. The island became of interest to the creatures, who were bored with eating their own families in the dark. They created waves around the island with their limbs whilst they peered with their alabaster eyes. They could taste the land too, a new, brighter territory. Of course, they knew nothing of what a better life could be because they had only known their own suffering. They grew tired easily because of their sudden activity and they waned under the surface of the water.

The first day of the island’s birth came to a close, and the glass became bleached white under the sprinkled stars. The tide rose with the moon, and each wave broke the slick surface of the island, dropping deposits of sand, silt and weeds that began to layer. The unlucky creatures of whom had fallen asleep beside the island in the frothed swell were swept onto the land, and slept atop the grit like children laying in their cots. Their slender, silken bodies melted through the sieve of the surface, for their chilled limbs could not even take the meagre heat that was reflected by the moon. This gifted the island with their rich, untapped energy that became embedded in the land forcing the surface to swirl. Their death scents also attracted even darker creatures that orbited the island and provided a rhythm of current, steadying the land further in its place on the sea.

Clay, water and mollified limbs churned together on the island’s surface, forming larger and greater mounds of earth. No longer could the ocean break over the twisting land, nor could the glass be seen underneath it. The starlight bore into cavities that had formed under the mounds, revealing air-pockets under the earth, ripe for the habitation of ethereal souls. A touched breeze fluttered through the land, hauling a smokey, ash mist. Inside the cloud of moisture, there were creatures of the wind that, like their ocean cousins, were intrigued by the island. Their drenched extremities caressed the earth, gouging deep valleys and dripping rivers in the swelling land that flowed back to the sea. They wanted to stay, to claim the land to the realm of the wind, but the currents of the air called out to them to move on. They listened to the wind, for the wind brought them mist, and they followed the mist for the mist brought them life. Only trails of clouds were left to remain above the island, which became one of the only signs that they had ever hovered through.

In an elegant moment, the sun, older sister of the moon, drew her roasting body out from the sea. She was the flower of the sky and splayed her beautiful petals out into the ocean-mirrored heavens. She too seemed obsessed with the land and began to bake it’s surface, which halted the swirling movement of the cake batter island and cemented the rivers, streams and mounds into their place. The colossal creatures that still orbited the island under the crisp water felt her touch on their scaled backs too. They circled faster and faster, pleased with the new energy she had rewarded them. An upsurge of water pushed the cooked mounds of earth that were on the edge of the island closer into the middle, raising them into magnificent mountains. Their tops brushed the clouds left by the wind, causing an icy blanket to cool the peaks.

The sun’s journey over the land was nearly complete, so she crawled back into the sea, cooling the air and enticing the dark to slump onto the island. The submerged creatures, who were then spiritless and drowsy in their onyx water gave in to one finishing flick of their tails before they dove deeper under the island, where they returned to their steady beat. The moon, pleased with her sibling’s love that she had given the island, raised her glamorous gown of sequin stars over the ocean and curtsied her way to the roof of her sky.

Something that could only be described as magical, extraordinary and marvelous occurred that night. For the stars that shone above the island in the moon’s dress began to sink. The glittering sequins were magnetized by the land, and it’s allure, so they tumbled down the stitching of her sky. As they fell, fireworks burst from their geometric faces and formed burning pockets on the land. They delved into the earth where they bequeathed the land their souls. Sprigs of grass, saplings of deciduous and evergreen and grey wildflowers all burst from the ground under her moonlight. Stars scattered into streams and lakes, gifting more and more life to the land. They gave it fish, wriggling in the ponds, eels that squirmed up the streams and moss that covered pebbles and rocks. They gave the land beetles and caterpillars, worms and newts and as the last star tumbled down, she birthed a greater being. It’s clear limbs and clean torso broke free of its mother and fell into the mud by the mountains. The moon smiled down at the new creature and named it man.

The man, coated with the dark mud, called up to her in her starless night, requesting the sun to come out and fill his heart with warmth. She obliged, naive to the nature of his request, and hauled her sister from the ocean. The tired moon shrunk from the effort and dozed under the cover of the mountains. But the man was not finished. He demanded food to eat, so the sun, regarding her exhausted sister, plucked fruits from the saplings of trees that the stars had given the land. The man took it upon himself to chew through every fruit she gifted him, and he grew taller and taller. His limbs became thick and he crawled out from the mud. He told the sun that he wanted a shelter to rest, so she pointed to a cave under the mountains. Unsatisfied with her answer, the man begged for the island’s trees to grow larger so that his frame could rest underneath their cover instead. The sun gifted her energy to the plants on the island, where they grew on their own and a forest began to snuggle the land.

But the man had lied to the sun for he grew teeth of steel that chewed through the hard-skinned tree-trunks. He built structures of dead limbs and hardened the soft earth with the heel of his foot. He then wandered back to the mountains and found a stream bustling with fish. His arm struck through the water, where his finger-nails clawed at the innocent scales. He chewed them in his red mouth and spat bones back into the water. The man ate nearly every fish in that stream and turned to devour another. But the sun saw what he did and distracted his hungry eyes by transforming smaller animals into large land creatures, dumb and easy to catch for the man. A sacrifice for the greater good and for the survival of the island. The man, thrilled to see more creatures to eat, gnawed through more of the forest to create a barren pen for the animals. He played with them and forced offspring to emerge. He ate their mother’s flesh and grinned at his wonderful life. The sun also saw this and begged the man to stop. He simply laughed up at her, and asked, why should I stop in a place where I am listened to, where I am given the land for myself to live and where I am the most intelligent creature that this land has ever seen? Answer me that, mighty sun.

The sun had had enough. She pleaded with him to meet at the top of the mountains, where she could get close enough to erase him completely. The man agreed but had his own plan. He quietly grabbed a hooked rib bone from one of the animals he had eaten and climbed the mountainside. The sun hauled her large frame to the top of the mountain also, and they met, facing each other. The sun knew she had to be quick, so she readied herself to blast her pure energy into him, removing his poisonous presence on the island. But the man saw this coming and plowed the sharp end of the bone into her golden chest. He plunged deeper and deeper, twisting as he did. He then pulled on the hooked bone, dragging her white-hot heart through the hole he had made in her chest. He grabbed the beating organ, dropping the bone, and as he held it in his hand, the sun wailed in pain. This awoke her younger sister from under the mountains and she launched herself to catch the dying sun. They tumbled down the sheer mountain together and plunged into the ocean.

The sky descended into a deep, empty, violet with the only light coming from the heart of the sun, still clasped in the man’s palms. He wandered down to his structure beside the cleared forest and picked at the heart. The man sliced scabs from the flesh and placed the shining jewels around him to create his own light. He did this throughout the island, turning the land into its own sparkling night sky made from the soul of the sun. He was pleased with his efforts but missed having the consistent burn of the sun on his back. So he placed the last morsel of the burning heart into a burrow filled with branches from the trees he had chewed through. The fire that had filled the sun with her energy burst onto the wood and blanketed the whole area in her warmth. The man was thrilled with the heat and quickly learned how to utilise it. He cooked the flesh of animals for a better taste, finding parts of the animals he preferred and how long to cook them for. He flavoured them with plants, with flair, and devoured them. He cleared more of the forest with the fire, creating more and more space for himself. He liked the smell of the smoke, so he powered machines with the fire to humour him further, as he wrecked the island’s beauty.

The moon and her sister did rise from the sea, but they had to share one heart. Only one could show their face to the island at a time, whilst the other had to rest. They witnessed more and more destruction on the island and when they wept, raindrops fell to douse the man’s fire, but his stolen flame continued to scald the island.

Many years ago an island rose from the sea. A glittering box of broken glass, held together by delicate silk, that the world gave so much to. An island filled with life, but a land that produced a creature that stole the sun’s heart. It is said that if you place your ear to the sea and listen, you can still hear the man shrieking and laughing over discovering another way to ruin the very land he lives on.