Cotton Candy Sky

© Paula Ray

Sarah felt her ears fill with water, a soothing aquatic pressure muffled sound-waves dancing on the surface. She fell in slow-motion, relaxing her muscles, letting her body settle on the bottom. Air was released like smoke signals from her pinched lips, as if her body was a balloon filled with foggy breath instead of helium. She used her petite shovel-nails to dig into the lake’s floor beneath her, expecting to feel sand -- not millions of short fleshy hairs the diameter of spaghetti noodles and of a similar texture. She was afraid to flip over and look at her underwater bed.

The first detected vibrations were low -- resembling fretless bass strings plucked with the soft pads of fingertips. Chromatic pitches began to rise as tentacle-vines uncoiled and reached for the sun, extending twenty to thirty feet. It sounded like someone tossed a piano overboard and its strings were unwinding themselves from their pegs one by one, as if reaching out to be rescued. But there was no desperation to the melody. In fact, it was quite methodical and sluggish.

She held her breath painfully long before kicking to the surface plagued by shrieks from gulls swarming the sky in liquid mass formation like locus. The tree with tethered swing trembled on the bank. Sarah had never noticed how much alike glossy leaves and ears of her pet cat were, until that moment -- when the leaves perked, turned, and whispered to each other. In the eerie stillness, she could almost sense them straining to hear secrets being sung by the lake.

Repeatedly, Sarah dove underwater and swam to the bottom, trying to figure out what was lurking down there, exactly. It looked like a giant fuzzy stingray or a flounder with wormlike snorkel-tubes shooting up from its torso. She was convinced this was a creature, but had never heard of such a specimen or seen pictures of it. Oddly, fish made nests in its singing tentacles.

After many dives, Sarah grew weary and breathlessly popped to the surface and looked toward the shore, brushing strands of clay red hair from her olive eyes. As she sought a good place to exit the lake, she found herself humming the hypnotic song performed by the mysterious creature below.

A dark figure stepped from behind the cat-ear tree. It was the old man, Mr. Brighton, who lived in the waterfall cave. He was considered a hermit, but somehow he knew everyone in town, the children Sarah’s age were afraid of him. He moved closer and towered over Sarah with gnarly long-limbs. In a gruff voice like a bark, he ordered, “Get out of there, Sarah.” Mr. Brighton rarely spoke, but when he did you best listen.
“M - M - Mr. Brighton, the- th- there’s sumthin’ down there. S-S-Sumthin’ beautiful and str-strange.” Her girlish voice stuttered and was on the brink of breaking as it climbed a higher octave than normal.

“Get out of the water, Sarah.” He said it again, lower with more authority.

Sarah climbed onto the bank and felt roots moving under her feet. One ran up Mr. Brighton’s pant leg and another wrapped around his waist. The earth growled like it was hungry as he grabbed one of the roots and pushed the end up to his mouth, blowing into it like a bugle. That’s when the leaves began to chime and the lake dried up. It was sucked dry by the creature at the bottom that filled with water then it rose out of the lake, hovered above Sarah and Mr. Brighton, then flew away -- its slick grey liver-body folding and flapping like a gate hinge. All the fish grew wings and followed behind like ducklings trailing their mother.

“Wh-Wh-What’s happening? P-P-Please t-t-tell me wh-wh-what’s happening.” tears streamed down her cheeks and Mr. Brighton’s dark eyes grew soft. He leaned over and kissed the top of her head.

“Go on home, Sarah. Fear not, child, you will not be harmed.” She was unable to speak as she nodded her head and began humming the enchanting song she‘d heard underwater.

Mr. Brighton studied Sarah as she unknowingly reached for the perfect roots to pull herself upright. The missing notes to the coded song rang from the hollow well where there had been a lake, only moments earlier. He hid his pleased smile, but desperately wanted to cheer, “Hurray, we’ve found our queen.”

The creature hid behind clouds -- filling each one with clean water and molding a few into shapes to amuse children below. Mr. Brighton opened his mouth like a bass fish and blew cotton candy puffs into the air. Only the creature knew what they meant.

She was thrilled by the vibrant candy colors and pointed excitedly, stuck out her tongue and tried to taste them. Her awkward toothy smile was contagious; Mr. Brighton couldn’t resist smiling back.

“Tell no one of this, Sarah.” Mr. Brighton knew she wouldn’t, he had watched Sarah for years and she was the quietest dreamer he’d ever observed.

Sarah winked at Mr. Brighton and put an index finger to her puckered strawberry lips. With a school-girl skip, she scampered home. As directed, she told no one of what she saw. When she awoke the next morning, she was humming the mysterious tune of the creature and Sarah’s lips were tingling and coated with the sweet taste of cotton candy.