If you ask somebody what flower is the purest, most beautiful one, they would probably say it is a lily of the valley or lotus flower, magnolia, orchid, or jasmine. But for me it will always be the desert rose. You might laugh at me, thinking that desert rose is not a flower, but that's just what you think!
I sit down today to write an account of a story that happened recently to a friend of mine. I'm not going to reveal his real name, to protect his privacy, although, I'm afraid, his name is already well forgotten. I also changed the places, the events, and even the characters of the people involved. But those things don't matter. The spirit of the story remains, and I put it down in the shape of a fairy tale.
I
Circle of Des
Deep in the desert there was a ravine. In the ravine, there lay a pool of water, always sweet and cool somehow. Everything grew tall and lavish around the ravine. Magnificent green Cactuses stood proud, Aloes unfolded their green crowns and shot long arrows with orange plumes, while, here and there, cute round Chollas wrapped and cuddled themselves in their venomous fur.
Coyotes barked at night calling to the spirits of mysterious people that lived here long ago. In the ravine, there was an echo in the rock formations, and from time to time you could hear a strange sound, a faraway deep moan, like a call of a lake bird.
In the light of the stars, cactuses talked to each other, like any folks would do, if they had nowhere to go for a while. If you were a talkative cactus, sooner or later, you would be firmly accepted into the circle of Des (the Desert), even if, not so long ago, you were sitting in a pot in front of somebody's house.
II
A Man
Once upon a time, there lived a man. He lived in a house, in a little town in the desert. He took up pottery as a hobby, at some point, and learned to make all kinds of clay pots and figurines. Soon it was pretty much all that he would do all day, and so, people called him Clay. I honestly don't know what he lived on, and how he made ends meet, but sometimes he would manage to sell a flowerpot or two. But it was very hard for him to part with his sculptures, since they were all so different--different from anything he saw other people do, and different from each other.
One day a wealthy art collector came to his house, having heard wonderful things about the talented young sculptor. He was not at all disappointed in what he saw, and immediately set his mind on promoting this artist, and enriching his own collection with his work. He looked around in amazement, and finally pointed to the prettiest piece, and said:
--I've decided to buy this beautiful mermaid from you. How much would you like for it, my friend?
--Umm, this is actually a desert spirit, not a mermaid, sir. And it's not for sale.
--Are you sure? I'll put it up in a gallery, where people can see it. And you can come see it there all the time!
--Yes I `m sure, I'm not selling it, and that's my answer.
--Ok, then. How about this magnificent fox sculpture? I will pay double my usual estimate for sculptures of this size and quality.
--It is a coyote, sir, and you could not afford it.
--Name your price.
--You could not afford it, I'm telling you!
--Try me.
Clay whispered such a monstrous number into the art-buyer's ear that he understood finally, that Clay was not going to sell him anything nice. But he did not want to give up.
--All right, my friend, how about this: I will give you a commission and you will make something especially for me.
--What do you have in mind?
--Let's see... You know, flowers are always in big demand--they are always a hit. Can you do flowers?
--Yes, but I would need a live reference. It's winter now, and nothing is in bloom. Need to wait for April, really.
--Hey, do you think you could do a Rose? A Desert Rose, maybe?
--Oh, those are kind of hard to come by, but I could try to find one or two, said Clay, grinning a mischievous grin. And so the shook hands, agreeing to meet soon, and Clay set out on his quest.
III
The Trip
Clay was laughing to himself, because Desert Rose was not a flower at all. It is, in fact, a sandy little cluster of gypsum crystals, which come from the minerals of the waters hidden deep beneath the desert sand. He often came across these curious things, and hoped that he would find a couple of them soon and be home before dinner. But he walked on and on, looking down, and not one of them could be seen. He was growing tired, and was getting a headache from the hot desert sun and the glare, because this time he was careless enough to forget to put on his cowboy hat, and to bring his favorite thermal cup with cool lemonade. But he ignored all ill signs, and walked on, till he received sunstroke and fell on the ground, losing his consciousness.
When he opened his eyes, he saw a crocodile, right in front of him, crying huge crocodile tears. He jumped to his feet, and then realized that it was only a small lizard, that was sitting on a cracked lens of his prescription glasses, that slid to the very tip of his nose, in his fall.
The sun already set, and it was getting chilly. He looked around, but could not understand where he was. He lived here, he should have known every inch of this land, like his own backyard. But this, actually, can happen to the best of us, if we were to walk all day, looking straight down, underneath our feet. He looked at his map, but it did not help. Compass was working, but Clay was not sure which direction to choose. This was very frustrating. All of a sudden, he saw an eagle overhead, flying north, and so he decided to choose this direction.
So he walked on. Soon he noticed that there were more and more cactuses growing thickly around, of all kinds and shapes. They were towering around like trees, or even skyscrapers. Very soon, it was hard for him to find his path, among prickly bushes, without getting his clothes caught on some thorns, and his skin stinging and burning from their unfriendly embraces. He was very hungry and extremely thirsty, when suddenly, he thought that he heard water splashing nearby.
Also there was a strange sound, half human moan--half bird cry. Suddenly the air became lighter, and Clay could see the stars and beautiful moon shining above him. The cactus forest suddenly ended, and our hero saw a ravine, and a lake in it. It was such a site. The water was completely still, and shone in the moonlight like a great mirror.
Clay looked at the other side of the lake, and saw a beautiful sparkly-white hill.
He took off his clothes, put them into his water-resistant backpack, and jumped in. Swimming across the lake, he suddenly saw, that there was light coming from below. He looked down into the water, and saw something colorful--there were people down there, dancing and laughing at the bottom of the lake. There were bright lights, and Clay heard amazing, lighthearted music, playing merrily, as if calling him to dive deeper and see what was there. But something did not feel right, and Clay forced himself to lift his face out of the water and swim as fast as he could to the other side.
IV
The Girl
As soon as he came out of the water, without even being given a minute to dry himself, he was attacked by five white coyotes. But before they could tear him to pieces, he remembered some sounds that coyotes regarded as their national anthems, and they immediately turned tame and tender, and lay taciturnly around the sparkly white hill.
Clay approached that hill, and saw, amazed, that it was a great big pile of Desert Roses. He stood there, as if thunder-stroke, and could not tear his eyes from it, so beautiful it was. Then suddenly, he saw some movement on its slope. There was a transparent shape, a faint outline of a human figure--a girl, lying on the hill of Desert Rose. He looked and looked, until his eye adjusted to the sparks of white, and then he clearly saw a ghostly slender girl, lying lazily, looking up, fixedly, at the stars. She was naked and seemed completely unaware of his presence. He was wondering if she, when she finally noticed him, would cry out, startled, and quickly reach for her clothes. But being an artist, he could not withstand this temptation--he unzipped his backpack, got out a large sketchbook and a charcoal stick, and started to draw this "Lady of the Lake", as he called her in his mind. He was sketching for a while, when he was startled, himself, by a deep musical voice:
"What do you want?"--This girl was looking at him, as if he was an annoying boy scout, knocking at her front door to sell chocolates.
--"I want you,"--barked Clay, jumping to his feet, even though he was going to ask if he could have some Desert Roses from the pile.
--I'm sorry. Can I just have some of your Desert Roses?
She looked at him long and looked away without an answer. Then suddenly she said in a voice that sounded like a recording of a phone operator:
--Each Desert Rose piece is unique and cannot be taken away from here, unless they are categorized and put together like puzzle pieces that fit.
--What? Are you guarding this stuff?
--That's the thing. It's not "stuff". Come here and take a look. This one, for example--looks like a cactus, that one--like a butterfly. Here is a giraffe, but this one here, definitely, is a rose.
--Hey, Girly, this is what I do for a living. I am a sculptor. I take clay, which is just stuff and make it into something that people like to look at.
--If you think that you can take clay and make something out of it by kneading it in your hands--you take its very spirit out of it. Your clay is not just "stuff"! And if you were able, so far, to make something that was not a shame to the whole world, that means that clay itself was in love with your hands, and they fell in love with clay in return. You just watch their love, their magic, and make your profit from it.
--Some profit!
Author's note:
Here I have to stop you for a second to warn you that Clay is an excessively shy, introverted artist, who can seem mysterious, aloof, and even arrogant. He keeps quiet simply because he is always afraid to say something stupid, and so, in the end, the girls keep away from him, even when they like him or curious about him. He acts like he does not need anyone around, and does not want to be bothered. But, you know, in an unusual situation, people sometimes act contrary to their habits, and even against their character, opening up the sides of themselves they hardly knew. This whole Desert Rose business turned our arrogant hermit into a suave and mysterious flirt.
cont
--I have to look at the whole variety of them, and you're obstructing the view. Having said that he swiftly picked her up, and rocked her in his arms as if she were a baby. She screeched like a peacock, and he almost dropped her, being so startled.
--What was that?
--Will you mind, don't touch me! You're ruining my moon tan!
--Can I kiss you then, I won't touch you, I promise.
He kissed her many times on her lips and all over her face. His eyes were closed, and soon he heard desert birds singing. She embraced him and they sank downwards faster and faster. Then he felt strange--they were embracing, but he was singing too, and not just with his voice. The song was pouring out of his whole being. He raised his arms to let the song out of his lungs, and saw that he had wings. And the girl was a bird also. They flew up high into the air, and sang, and flew after one another for a long time. Then he felt the song spin inside every cell of his body, making little golden coils of fire and rainbow. He felt charged like a naked cable. He screamed out of tension, and heard his voice as thunder, and then he opened his eyes and saw the girl running along the edge of the water, tiny, thin, and sparkly, like a little silver pin. He chased her, while the desert wind pushed against every feather in his wings, and finally he reached out to her. When she turned around with her black eyes wide open, he looked in them, and they seemed to grow. Then he felt his hair stand up on ends, and he saw lightning all around, as far as he could see, one after another. It started to rain. In the desert!
--You will stay here with me?
--No. I have to go back home. I can't eat cactuses for the rest of my life.
--Then you have to leave before next new moon, or this place will drift away to a new position in the frame of existence, and on this earth of yours. You will never find your way home, taking into consideration your poor abilities to orient yourself in space.
She looked just like Queen Nefertiti, her eyes outlined by thick eyelashes, her proudly raised chin and long neck, determination in her smirking lips, some green stuff stuck in her teeth, probably from yesterday's lunch...
--You have something in your teeth.
--Oh yeah?
She deftly snapped a thorn off the closest cactus and used it as a toothpick. -It's Avocado. I think I got it from you...
V
The Introduction, Finally
Another note:
Now, if you still decide that despite my previous note, Clay was a womanizer, without a drop of shyness in his behavior-- believe me that this is an odd occurrence in his boring life. He is as good as a drunk now, his tongue untied by a drink of the magic water, and the sight of the pretty transparent gal. Now he felt, came the time to sober up and have a cultured civilized conversation.
--My name is Clay. What is yours?
--My name is Aleeyah.
--A sea in the desert sands?
--Yes. My family line goes down to Neptune, and I was named after my Great Grandmother, Little Mermaid, who never had children. Her real name was Marina.
--How could she be your Great Grandmother if she did not have children?
--It's an honorary title.
--How did your folks end up living here, belonging to the sea, and all?
--They just dug themselves deeper and deeper through the ocean floor, to hide away from the ocean explorations, until they dug through to the other side.
--Really?
--No, I'm just kidding. We moved. It's quieter in the desert. We go back to the sea in the summer, when it gets too hot over here.
--But how?
--Just Kidding!
--Hey! You are impossible!
He jumped up to his feet and swung her in a waltz, watching a beautiful white dress that appeared out of nowhere swing all around her like foam on the sea.
--I'll come back for you.
--A man can stumble into this place only once.
--And how many men have stumbled into this place before?
--You, fool!
--I can get you out of here, I promise!
--Do you drive?
--I used to have a car, but I parked it at a wrong place, got 50 tickets, and then it got impounded and I lost my license.
--That figures.
--I can carry you away!
--You see, I cannot bear sunlight at all. I live at the bottom of the Ravine, and come here to get some moon tan. I am very tan right now, that's why you can see me and touch me.
--Tanning, eh? You're very shallow.
--I also study the stars and design devices that help you navigate in journeys, so that nitwits like you don't get lost three miles away from their houses on a clear night.
--How do you know all this?
--I study optics also. And I have binoculars.
--I will definitely carry you away.
--How? I told you I can't bear the sun, and you don't even have as much as a hat for me to travel through the desert.
--A hat... Clay looked at her dreamily, and then away...
--I can make a carriage for you, my lady,-- he finally said.-- A beautiful white carriage out of your desert roses. I will put them together with cactus thorns.
--That will never hold together.
--Oh, but it will. I have some crazy glue in my backpack.
--Crazy glue? You know, those desert rose pieces actually can be put together like a construction set, like pieces of a puzzle. But no one so far had enough knowledge and imagination to do it...
-- I can. Will you ask your coyotes to draw the carriage?
--I thought you were the artist..., she smiled.
--Oh yes, I have to draw it first. I have to design it, make it look worthy of your beauty.
--Just build it so that it doesn't fall apart halfway to your home, please. That will be enough.
He got out his sketchbook, and became deeply engrossed in his work.
--But let's say we get through the desert,-- said the Girl,-- What then? How am I going to live there? Never to come out of the house, and out of touch with my family...
--Stop talking, please. Don't make it more complicated than it is. We'll manage somehow.
--But we need to have a plan; otherwise I won't go! I also need to redraw your map and fix your compass, or we will never make it!
--But why?
--Because tomorrow is a new day, but you will be holding your maps at yesterday's angles. Just let me do it please.
--I'm not going to use them.
--This Desert Rose is special. Each one is a piece of a grand puzzle. If someone could sort them out by shape color and pattern, they can be used to build anything. We actually have some user manuals for this set of desert rose here, but the pieces were put out of order and the page with the part descriptions is missing. I've been trying to reclassify them, but I just don't have enough imagination. I was able to break them down into three groups, but the rest look the same to me.
--All right. Let's see, said Clay. This one looks like a swan--lets put it into number 2 category, that one like a chair--turn it upside down and put that with number 4 category. The ones that are plain circles--put them with the zeros. This one looks like a flying bird--it goes into category number 3.
--Wow? How do you do that?
--Eh, I don't know. I'm just trying out a little theory.
In a few hours, the task, which seemed impossible to Aleeyah, was complete. The Hill of the Desert Rose (or at least one quarter of it) was arranged into twenty categories. They had two thousand pieces, which according to the user manuals, was enough to build a nice two-door sphere-shaped carriage that moved unpredictably, but always reached its destination, and kept its passengers safe.
It also could have an additional feature of being surrounded with a whirl of tough melt-proof snowflakes, for the air conditioning.
--But, Clay. I have not told you this, because I did not think all of this was possible anyway. There is another reason why I can't leave this place. I have to guard these desert roses. This is the reason I exist. I was put here by my people to do this as long as I live.
--Maybe there is a way around the rules, Aleeyah. I can make a sculpture that would look exactly like you, and we'll put it here in your place. You think anyone will know the difference?
--Coyotes certainly will.
--We'll see about that! And Clay ran to gather some clay from the lake bank.
VII
Underwater
--Come on Clay! Let's go.
--Five more minutes. I think her nose needs to be a little thinner, and her breasts a little higher.
--I have a feeling you've grown more attached to this monstrosity than to me.
--So now you think it's a monstrosity!
--No, I'm sorry, --of course it is gorgeous...in fact, Clay, you know, she is starting to look better than me. Her face looks so inspired, so alive, so full of grace. And her body is perfect in every way.
I think I can see why you got so attached...
--Do you take her with us, darling? You can try to sculpt another one, and hope it comes out worse...
At this moment Clay stopped working, and looked up at Aleeyah
--Oh, oh, Aleeyah, I'm sorry. But I just can't stop working until I feel it is finished.
He worked another ten minutes. Taking a deep breath, he stepped back from his work, and saw the sculpture stretched out still on the desert rose, looking up at the sky. But the reddish color of her clay skin was going paler, probably as his eyes were going redder with tears. She was becoming paler, almost transparent, until he could see through her a little. And then she looked just like Aleeyah, except it was a different girl.
--All right, you make real things, Clay. You've convinced me that you are an artist. She is real now. But do you think you could ever tear yourself away from her, so we could get out of here?
It was a little scary. Clay was very confused. He sprang up to his feet and jumped into the lake, hoping to cool down and clear his head. And then... he looked down and saw the city that lured him before. He heard beautiful music playing and saw people dancing down below, in the colorful lights. He started swimming down lower and lower, not feeling any need for a new breath of air.
There were beautiful women and handsome men, and delicious food everywhere. He saw, that he was nicely dressed, and stepped proudly into a bright ballroom full of elegant and beautiful people. He quickly felt at ease, and started to invite pretty girls to dance, gallantly. He had never had enough courage to do that before, so now he was truly enjoying himself, starting to feel proud and happy. Everyone here seemed to like him. He easily joined conversations and found so many witty and smart things to say, that people were listening to him graciously, and laughing at his jokes. The food and wine were grate too, and he was amused at the variety of refreshments and drinks at this party, eating and drinking, when suddenly a waiter approached him and said:
--Sir, there is a message for you. A woman called and asked to remind you that she is waiting for you at the top floor. And if you don't leave right away, she will have to leave without you, and you, yourself, sir, will have to stay here forever, and remain forever, what you've always been, sir, a cactus in the cactus world, sir.
Clay was petrified. He stared at the waiter, who looked at him with a guilty smile, and saw somehow that it was not a man, at all, but a curiously shaped cactus.
And the next moment he felt water all around him, and inside of him, creeping into his lungs. He felt he was drowning, and tried to swim upwards to the surface, as hard as he could. Then somebody's hands grabbed him and pulled him up to the shore. It was Aleeyah.
VIII
Home
They sat in the Desert Rose Carriage and tumbled through the desert. The sun was bright, but Aleeyah did not complain. They could see everything. They took detours through stars and drifted on waters, always spinning around. At all times they were surrounded by special snowflakes, which made Aleeyah cooler and their spirits happier.
When they got home, arriving at the back gate, the art buyer was pacing anxiously at the front door, and ringing the bell many times. Clay carefully escorted Aleeyah to the darkest corner in the house, and went to answer the door.
--So, how is my commission going, Clay?
--Well, I found a lot of those desert roses, and I made a carriage out of them.
--A what?
--Come over here, and take a look, if you'd like...
--Oh, wow! Clay, you have really outdone yourself now. I don't know what to say. I don't know what to make of it, really, except, it looks... stunning. It's a perfect sphere. It does not look like your usual stuff though. But if you promise to make at least a couple more pieces in this interesting style, I will pay cash for it today, right now. So, Clay, what do you say? Can I take the Desert Rose Carriage now? -The art-buyer was reaching out to shake hands on the deal.
--No, it's too sentimental, -- said Clay.
--Then what are you going to give me?
--This piece.
--What?
--This.
--This little thing.
--Yep.
--What is it?
--I don't know.
(I cannot tell you what it was that the art buyer had to buy, because I don't understand that piece myself.)
Since then, Aleeyah got many moon-tans on the roof of Clay's house, and gradually grew more and more tolerant to light, and then to the sun, until one day she realized, that she became like other people in Clays little town. She even started going by the name of Rose, so that people had an easier time pronouncing her name. She got a job working as a teacher, and got a P.H.D. in mathematics at a local University, which was easy as pie for her. She and Clay had a son, and named him Des, like the word desert. Clay does large sculptures of women and cactuses. And they live on, happily ever after.
The end.
Epilogue
Now, if you believe this extraordinary story, do not read the epilogue, and close the book. If you want to know the so-called "truth", read on, but then there will be no happy ending. This is what happened in this "reality of yours", to which you want to be so faithful.
My friend Clay led a strange life. One day a suspicious neighbor discovered, that his house was abandoned. It looked like its host left suddenly, forgetting a turned on TV, an unfinished sculpture on the dinner table, and a TV-dinner in the microwave. What made him leave in such a hurry? They called me first of all, because I was his only friend, and he did not have any relatives that anyone was aware of. I went there immediately, but the house was already sealed and wrapped in yellow tape. Fortunately, the police let me in, since I could be of help to the investigation. Having carefully inspected every corner of the house, I stumbled upon a strange foot-long cactus in a yellow pot. It was a striped cactus, which is a very odd thing in itself ( it had yellow and purple stripes), but also it was in bloom with a large semi-transparent white flower, which resembled a rose. Somehow, I was immediately struck that the Cactus looked very much like my friend himself. Oh, my dear Clay, why have you done this to yourself! I remember this yellow and purple t-shirt very well.
He has turned himself into a cactus in one of his mind-altering experiments with drugs and meditation. Of course, I did not say anything to the police, but instead, I asked them if I could take the cactus home, and luckily, they let me. So I took Clay home, and he's sitting on the windowsill most of the time. I don't know if it's good for him to stay among plants all the time. So, often, I talk to him, or set him in front of TV, when his favorite shows are on. Other than that, I water him once a month, and hope he snaps out of it, sometime soon, and hurry back home, before the government tears his house down. He really likes his house.