Zollocco: A Novel of Another Universe

Zollocco
_:

A Novel of Another Universe

by

Cynthia Joyce Clay

copyright © 2000 Cynthia Joyce Clay All rights reserved.
2
^nd
Edition 2004

This is a work of fiction.

paperback ISBN: 1-59467-783-8
e-book ISBN: 1-59457-819-2
Library of Congress Catalog Control Number: 200411965

Publisher: BookSurge, LLC North Charleston, South Carolina

Oestera Publishing LCC
www.oestarapublishing.com

Fondly dedicated to Jill Clay, cousin and fellow writer

Other works by Cynthia Joyce Clay
New Myths of Feminine Divine
Vector Theory and Plot Structures of Literature and Drama
The Romance of the Unicorn Scylla: A Noh Play

Table of Contents

Chapter 1
The Forest Zollocco
7 Chapter 2
The Remembered Tongue
31 Chapter 3
Zitam
49 Chapter 4
The City of Waves
79
First Intermezzo
97 Chapter 5
The City of Ichloz
101 Chapter 6
The Forest of the Blue Dawn
115 Chapter 7
The Blue Dawn
136 Chapter 8
Intrusion
150 Chapter 9
Oasis
164
Second Intermezzo
184 Chapter 10
Troubadour
188 Chapter 11
Troubadour Tales
195 Chapter 12
The Words of Apparitions
207 Chapter 13
Arachnid's Trap
229 Chapter 14
Cavern
241 Chapter 15
Speaking
253 Chapter 16
Pterodactyl
262 Chapter 17
Orchard
273
Mezzo
293

CHAPTER ONE: The Forest Zollocco”

We are aware that a human being has landed in Our berry dell. From Our smallest truffles to Our greatest Haetrist, We are annoyed and indignant. We have forbidden human beings Ourself as a home because all the weak, sniveling things do is get sick and die when they try to adjust to Our life. Every berry, bush, bird, and beast was looking forward to adopting a new, strong creature, which We thought a creature must be if it could fly the great distances between planets. Were We surprised! Humans are inorganic creatures. They fly around in enormous metal cans and eat out of tiny metal cans. Even their babies come out of cans. Disgusting. This one crawled out of its flying house-can this morning; long after Our day creatures had greeted with stretches the rosy-gold sunshine. Our tall stalk-vegetation reports that the human looks just as gray, weak, and sickly as it can be. The grass says the human ate out of one of its little cans and then threw up in the rock basin. At least it has some manners and doesn't puke on Our grass. It smells horribly stale, too, the furry creatures say. Of course it stinks, it has been cooped-up in its flyingcan home. Even though this human does look distinctly female, We are of accord not to let it come among Us. We don't want any inorganic creature in Our presence. The tenderhearted moss still has not quite gotten over the trauma of seeing life growing out of a can of chemicals. The dell life is keeping a pretty strict watch on this human. The human is trying to come among Us! Get out of here you sickly wretch! Beat it, you smelly old human! Get back in your can! Go back to your own kind!

Hoping to find some fresh vegetables to eat instead of the horrible, canned, gray glop, which had made me ill, I approached the aromatic tree line. To my amazement, the woods burst into a loud staccato screech, as if the trees themselves were scolding me.

"Oh, shut up!" I yelled in hungry irritation. Eerily, abruptly, a dead silence fell. I entered the woods with some difficulty because the thorns on the plants kept scratching me as I passed. A few paces in, a sudden swarm of gnats surrounded me. I took a couple of hurried steps to get clear of the growing cloud of bugs, but they followed and bit me. I turned around and headed back to my module as fast as I could.

The human being wept when We drove it out. This torments some of Us with pity. Our entire life is made up of the constant death and replenishment of the lives of individual members. Fortunately, We are a sturdy lot and Our members seldom die from disease like in some Forests. We die to feed Ourselves. But when a single human dies it is horrible. It is part of no Forest to replenish, and its consciousness is almost as vast as a Forest being. Seldom does a Forest die, but every human dies. It makes many of Us angry that this human does not leave. It will just die if it stays here. There is no can food for it. Why doesn't it fly its house to a settlement? Perhaps it is too weak to work the controls of its can. The human sleeps. It is impossible to commune with most humans, but usually it is possible to converse on a very low level with their basic physical states. Maybe We will be able to make it clear to the human's body that it must leave Us in order to survive. Since humans are supposed to be mammals, We align Our mammal self with it. Now this is incredibly strange. The human stomach and intestines insist that the canned food is what made it ill. The skin and lungs insist that the sunshine makes it feel better. The body claims it wants fresh food, fresh water, and sunshine.This human must be so far gone it doesn't know what it wants. To gauge the truth of its answers We ask if it is fertile. The body answers "no/yes". What kind of answer is that?

"No/Yes"? The human suffers bodily delirium. The human is disturbed by Our conversation. It is waking up. We withdraw.

I awoke from my sleep with the groggy notion that I just had to get into the forest and find a stream. I didn't think the strange little rock basin would have clean water. It looked murky, and it bubbled. I took a spray bottle of ammonia with me as I once again headed toward the trees. This time when the bugs began to swarm, I let them have it with the ammonia. So, I was able to progress a little further into the woods. I was still only a little way in when the density of the tree growth increased. I had to push branches out of my way to get through. Then gently pushing no longer had any effect. I pushed harder. The limbs of the trees wouldn't budge. I tried to crawl under them, but the lower branches and plants were also suddenly and uncompromisingly stiff. For the second time, I had to return to my module without finding a spring.

M
oss is claiming that a ghost is standing on them. Sometimes it is such a blessing to have such supersensitive moss. We will awaken Our iridescent opium in order to view the ghost. The opium drowsily obliges although it is a dark space of the night's time. The ghost is the human's, and is kneeling down and drinking some water. The ghost stands and looks around wonderingly. The moss says the ghost did not walk to the stream; it just suddenly appeared standing atop the moss. Well, the human must be dead, but We'd better check. Luckily, the human did not seal shut its house can. We need a volunteer to enter the human's can to see if it is alive. Relentlessdrill, the mosquito, has agreed to do so. It takes such concentration to focus consciousness into the tiny mind of a single insect, and insects are so limited in what they can discover for Us. We'd better awaken Zollocco in order to have full specified awareness.