Lost

An Anasazi Story by Jeff Posey.

“People worry too much about getting lost,” said The Pochteca. He’d removed his red swaddling hat and his square-armed cotton shirt studded with tiny copper bells that made him the most recognizable traveling trader in the country.

“If you don’t know where we’re going, then we’re lost,” said Sowi, a fast-running, gangly legged boy with no fear of asking questions.

“Where are we?” asked The Pochteca, looking around and raising his arms in question. He wore the half-smile that rarely left his lips and that seemed to elevate his being. The Pochteca seemed to enjoy almost everything.

“Right here,” said Sowi.

“You are gaining wisdom every day. And where are we going?” The Pochteca leaned back into a bed of ferns that his small army of orphans and misfits, the burden-bearers for the goods he traded, had gathered for him. He had become the surrogate father of a very large family with no mother.

“To a place where people stack stones into big piles,” said Sowi.

The Pochteca laughed loud, and the older girls washing his clothes at the creek looked at him, one shading her eyes with her hand.

“Piles of stones!” He laughed hard again. “That’s good. Piles of stone that dwarf the piles of stone you’ve seen in Totec Canyon. These are mountains of laid stone with stairs that climb nearly to the stars and with altars and shrines on top. People wear clothes as brightly colored as my hat, but of many different colors. They wear jewelry of shiny yellow metal and polished stones of every shape and kind. The fields of corn are three times taller than the corn here, and water is more common than dust. That’s where we’re going. And since we know that, and we know we’re here, we are not in the least bit lost.”

The Pochteca laid his head back and closed his eyes.

“So which way do we go from here?” asked Sowi.

“South,” said The Pochteca without opening his eyes.

A sheer cliff rose across the stream to the south and ran as far east and west as could be seen. “How do we get over the cliff?”

“I don’t know.”

“How will we find out how?”

“I don’t know.”

“So we’re stuck. And lost.”

The corner of The Pochteca’s mouth turned down and he scratched his face, still without opening his eyes. “I think only Sowi is stuck and lost. The rest of us know if we walk from here, we will always get there.”

“It’s like the drawings on the rocks,” said Sowi. “We walk in spirals and never get anywhere.”

“We got here.”

“Is this where we were going?”

“Wherever we are is always where we were going.” The Pochteca’s voice had lost its power as he drifted toward sleep.

Sowi jumped up. “I’m going to go find a way over the cliff.”

The Pochteca opened his eyes, looked at Sowi, then closed them. “Good idea.”

Sowi jogged away and a fly landed on The Pochteca’s face and made it to the corner of an eye before he slapped it away. He looked around and saw Sowi and a few other boys making their way to the cliff. He smiled and lay back again into the soft fronds of fern. “I’ve never been lost a moment in my life,” he murmured. The fly returned to his face and crept in a spiral toward his eye.

# # #

What do you think of the point of view here? It’s kind of a close-in limited omniscient. Does that work for you?

Note: As explained in Wikipedia, “A pochtecatl (plural pochteca) was a professional long-distance traveling merchant in the Aztec Empire.” I’ve abused the word a bit by making it into a singular pronoun. While there’s no evidence to my knowledge that such a traveling merchant class existed in the world of the Anasazi, there’s plenty of evidence that long-distance trade took place.

Advertisements

8 Comments

Filed under #FridayFlash, Anasazi, Ancient Americans, Chaco Canyon, Historial Fiction

8 responses to “Lost

  1. jasonamyers

    I like the tight in POV. Man, I love that you’re getting in close to all these characters. It will make writing your long pieces better. I think I might do this too. Now, where’d I put that pill for laziness?

  2. The POV worked well for this story. Like Deanna, I was reminded of “Who’s on First.” I really enjoyed the setup and wondered who this man was and what it was about him that encouraged a band of such devoted followers.

    The sentence, “He wore the half-smile that rarely left his lips and that seemed to elevate his being.” is just beautiful. I can picture it clearly. It reminded me of my grandfather and other wise mystics of this world. Thank you for sharing this. Merry Christmas, Jeff! ~ Olivia

  3. Very nice… POV worked for me as well. Was scratching my head wondering why this piece felt different than the others, then got the POV question at the end.

    Great parable here. Happiest of holy days to you… Peace, Linda

  4. Nicely done, as always. I think this is my favorite one. It has sort of a zen quality.

  5. Merry Christmas, Jeff!Hope you’re spending the day wrapped in the warmth and joy of family and friends, enjoying plentiful food and pleasurable drink. Or vice versa. 😉

    Another great piece here and the POV was fine. I always maintain that I’m never lost, no matter how many times we drive past the same gnarled oak, as I can always remember where I came from and find my way back. If I want to. But I rarely turn around and retrace my steps. Like your Pochteca, I just keep going toward the place I’m meant to be.

    Wishing you all good things in the coming year. May they include published works!

  6. This put me in mind of the art of capturing the present and the mindfulness of “wherever you go, there you are”

    POV is just fine, no worries there.

    Laughed that the fly also walked in spirals.

    Well done.

  7. Deanna Schrayer

    Love this Jeff, and the POV is perfect for it I believe. This sort of reminds me of Abbot and Costello’s “who’s on first” routine. Very fun read!

  8. The POV worked for me. I had to laugh about Sowi, but at least his questions were intelligent and not ‘are we there yet?’
    The Pochteca is an interesting character. I hope you show more of him.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s