An enchanting mystery of nature unfolds for the protagonist, a seven-year-old girl. What did she encounter, early morning, that changed her forever? An exclusive for Different Truths. 

I opened my eyes to a strange, eerie light; the air was diffused with a mysterious green tinge. ‘Was I under water?’ I blinked sleepily and my brain slowly cleared. It was only the early morning light filtering through the thick canvas of our tent. I rolled over and looked across at Big Sister till fast asleep, burrowed down in her sleeping bag like a little dormouse. I lay looking up at the thick fabric hanging above me, but boredom soon reared its ugly head. Wriggling out of my bed covers, I crawled quietly down to the tent entrance and unlaced the opening. I greeted the daylight joyfully as I pulled my wellington boots on over the black, woollen tracksuit in which I slept. 

I took a deep breath of the morning air and stepped out into a brand-new day. There was no movement from the tent, just a few feet away, in which Parents and Baby Sister slept. No-one else stirred. I had the world to myself; a novel experience for a seven-year-old. Dew-soaked grass brushed against my legs as I walked across the field. The air was fresh, holding a promise of good things to come. A few moments later, I was looking back at our little encampment, sitting isolated in a sea of long meadow grass. No-one stirred. Silence enfolded the scene. 

What to do next? I was far too awake to return to the confines of my tent. I strolled across to the stony lane which led towards the lake, the thought of that wide expanse of water luring me on. As I walked, with stones crunching under my feet, I became aware of the avenue of trees enfolding me into a sacred space. Birds twittered and fluttered amongst its green branches, a symphony of movement more wondrous than any organ music. I saw no-one, heard no-one. All was still. The very air itself held a wondrous sense of ‘otherness’ within it. The world was mine: a veritable Garden of Eden. 

I walked on, drawing nearer to the lakeside restaurant with its giant fish tank towering above me. Behind the glass pane, eels wriggled and fish of all shapes and sizes swam around, held in captivity. They were a delight to see, very entertaining, but my heart was heavy as I watched their antics. I knew they were destined for the serving plate. 

The serpent had entered my paradise. 

With a little shudder, I turned away and continued my journey towards my favourite lake. I rounded a corner and rejoiced. There it was. A vast expanse of water lay, stretching to the horizon, with ripples gently caressing the shore. I looked around. No-one was about. I still had the world to myself; something to really treasure. 

I wandered along the jetty, my boot-clad feet sounding firm against the rough, wooden planks. Alongside me, a row of small sailing dinghies bobbed gently up and down, tethered for the night, awaiting their release later in the day.  I knew then there would be noise and movement, whoops of joy and shouted instructions.  Now, though, all was still. I sat down at the end of the jetty, legs dangling over the edge, and peered into the murky depths, searching for the darting movements of tiny, silvery minnows which I knew lived there. 

I became aware of a change in the air. I lifted my head and gasped. A warm orange glow was illuminating the horizon. I watched spell bound. Slowly, majestically, the sun rose over the water, throwing pathways of golden glints before it. There was silence. There was beauty. And there was me!  A privileged witness to the wonder of creation. I sat, enraptured, drinking deeply of the wonder, letting it soak deep inside to the very core of my being.  It seemed to fill my mind and my world. How long I sat there, I do not know; long enough to watch the dawn fully break. I did not know the word ‘transcendent’ at that time. If I had, I would have used it to describe that experience. 

At last, my thoughts turned homewards. Time to go. I retraced my steps, still without encountering anyone. At the campsite no-one had yet surfaced from their canvas cocoons. I lifted the flap of my tent. Big sister still slept. I perched on the edge of my airbed, feet sticking out through the doorway, and waited. There was a sudden movement in the tent opposite. Mother emerged.  She seemed surprised to see me already up, but otherwise greeted me in her usual fashion. Before long, everyone was up and about; life was full of bustle and normality. But I knew I had changed. Deep inside me I cradled my wonderful secret: a golden kernel. 

Beauty had entered my soul and would live there forever. 

Visuals by Different Truths

Emmie Blake

Emmie Blake lives in the UK and has been active in the Anglican Church for most of her life, both in a voluntary capacity and as a full-time ordained minister; working with people who are severely disadvantaged by society: ex-offenders, addicts and refugees. She is currently co-administrator of the online writing group, ‘Aspiring Writers Society’, and is a regular contributor to their E-zine, in addition to having had short stories published elsewhere.

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