From Below

When darkness overtakes,

And there is no light in the sky,

When the forest cries out,

And not even one bird has the strength to fly,

She will emerge from underneath the ground,

Bringing with her a fury,

That knows no bounds.

My earliest memories are of my grandmother’s voice. Scratchy and deep from years of smoking, coming to me in soft waves. Her voice caressed my face with stories about ancient gods that roamed the earth- some who protected us from harm, and some who hunted us for sport. Of all the gods she told me about, the one she talked of the most, was La Niña. The child. A goddess who came from beneath, from under the earth and sprang from the river, a goddess who came to both save humankind and rage against us. A goddess who, according to my grandmother had once saved her from a fate worse than death.

The story my grandmother told about La Niña was always said in the same exact way, never altering a single word:

They had me cornered. Those men. Those men with yellow eyes and yellow teeth. Those men who had come to our land years before and had chopped down almost every single tree; who had blown up so much of our forests, and for what? Their own stupid gain. And we fought at first, of course, but they had more weapons than we did. So…So. They destroyed much of our village and polluted much of our sacred river. Our sacred river where She lives. And these men, these men, would often come to our village to look for girls. Young girls. They reeked of whiskey and something else. Something rotten. Like a fruit gone terribly bad. They would take the girls in the middle of the night, and we could hear their screams, and we, the rest of the village, were too afraid to fight back against these men and their weapons. And, of course, one evening they came for me. They stormed into my home where I lived with my grandmother, and they pulled me from my bed. They dragged me out into the night, and I remember pleading, screaming, for help. But why would anyone come to help me, when I had not helped them? The men dragged me to the outskirts of the village, near the river. One of them kicked me in the face to make me shut up. Another began to take off his clothes. I looked at the sky, and a chill took over my entire body. There were no stars. Not a single one. And even as I watched one of the men start to get on top of me, I noticed there was a tremendous silence. Except for the men’s evil laughs, there was not a sound. Do you understand? No crickets, no owls, no wind. Nothing. And then, there was a rumble from beneath the ground. The men stopped, looked around, and took out their weapons as the sound got louder and the earth began to shake. I fumbled to my feet and grabbed the nearest tree for balance. The ground shook with a fury and the men stumbled, one by one, into the river. As the last one fell, the earth suddenly stopped shaking. I watched them flail in the water, mouths open, eyes wide. One of them had the audacity to reach out to me for help. And you know what? I started to walk toward the bank of the river. I was going to help him. And then the water began to turn, and the men began to yell in a panic, trying desperately to free themselves from the wild whirlpool. But the water kept spinning, the waves rising and getting stronger and bigger with each turn. It was like the river was pulling the men deeper and deeper into its grasp. I watched as each man was pulled beneath the water, and as the last one was spiraling down, he reached out to me once more, screaming for help. I grabbed a long branch and tried to reach it towards him and that’s when I saw her. A giant wave, sprang up, and in that wave, I saw her young face, twisted with fury. A fury aimed at me. I screamed and sprang back and watched as the last man was pulled under. I was shaking with fear, staring at the river, not quite believing what had just happened. Her face reappeared in the water and I gasped. She stared at me, some of the fury gone. We looked at each other for a moment. And then she smiled and disappeared. And then the silence was gone. I could hear the crickets, the owls. I could feel the wind on my face, and when I looked up, I was not surprised to see that the stars had returned.

My grandmother told me that she knew she had been chosen for a reason. She went back to her village and told everyone what had transpired. That their child river goddess had saved her life. She rallied the town to fight back against the men who had tormented them for so long. So, the next time the men came, the village was ready, and they fought back. They used their better knowledge of the land to best the men. This rebellion caused a war with the men that lasted ten years. The village was victorious, and at the end of ten years, the exhausted men who were left, offered a peace treaty, to which the villagers accepted. No longer would the men invade the village, no longer could they chop down any trees. They had to stay on their side of the land. For years the peace was kept, and our village once again prospered. Our forests grew. Our river was cleansed. But what the villagers didn’t understand, was that the men were ruthless in a way that the villagers could never comprehend. These ruthless men were embarrassed by their loss, and ruthless men never forget.

The changes were slow. Slow enough to not be noticed. Slow enough that when people did notice, it was too late. Over the years, the men came closer. Built their houses closer. Built their roads inches from ours. Over the years, the men began to talk to our men, earn their trust. Over the years, other men came to join them, and their population grew. Over the years, the sky began to darken because of their smoke, because of their weapons. Over the years, they have taken over our village. It seems there are more of them than there are of us. Over the years, our village, my village, now barely exists.

And it is happening again. The disappearances of our girls. Only this time, there are no screams. We wake up to find that someone is missing. And the men, those men, claim that they have no idea. “Not us,” they say. But I know better. I know.

I am standing outside the house I grew up in with my grandmother. She has long passed on, but recently I have been dreaming of her. Of her stories. My head is full with her voice.

I am looking out over the land. Our land. It is dry. Desolate. Where the trees once stood, there are only ashes. When I look up at the sky, my heart turns to ice, and I begin to shake.

There are no stars.

Not a single one.

I feel a rough hand over my mouth.

I try to fight but strong arms hold me down.

I smell whiskey.

I smell rot.

These arms drag me, and drag me, and drag me further away from my home.

At some point, I am thrown to the ground.

I open my mouth to scream and am kicked in the face.

The world blurs.

As I come to, I am not surprised to see him.

One of those men.

He leers at me with his yellow eyes, and his yellow teeth.

I notice then, that all is silent.

No crickets.

No owls

No wind.

As the man is about to take off his shirt,

The earth begins to shake.