Kana

[Froge]

The river Kana will always hold a special place in my heart. It's located on the edge of the small village where I grew up, a little ways into the wilderness. When I was young, I would always take trips into the forest to see the river. Sometimes, I went by myself, whereas other times I went with my friends. I very rarely visited the river with my parents, but that doesn't really matter.

Year round, the river was a spectacle to behold. It was usually in intervals of three or four months that I visited the place. When I visited the river Kana in spring the water would be freshly melted and fast flowing westwards. The deciduous forest trees were young and sprouting, creating arrays of bright green, yellow, and red flora. In the summer, I would sit down along the sandy shores of the river and watch the water flow. Sometimes, I followed the river all the way to its end, where a large wall of rock prevented direct passage for the river and it split into many smaller streams.

When I was much younger, I would often take my friends with me to view the River Kana. They were fine doing so in late spring and summer, but would stop coming with me in autumn, and never in winter. It was a shame - the place was very beautiful during those two times. In autumn the forest was alit with orange colours, and the leaves would fall onto the shore and some would be carried away by the waters. During winter the water froze, and in late January or February you could even walk on the river.

The winter visit to the river Kana is especially interesting. When I was ten or so I decided to take one of my yearly trips to the end of the river during the winter time. The forest was very cold and it was one of those days when the water was completely frozen. For the next to happen, walk upon that river. I had done so out of a curiosity to test the ice.

The first thing I heard were the bells. They were distant and lulling, but not without rhythm. The sound of the bells, individually indistinct, merged into a flowing music not unlike the river itself. I walked on the ice for some time. I passed through the whole forest in that frigid cold, desiring to see the end of the river in winter. The bells continued playing, and eventually I felt as if they were matching my walking pace. Always in the distance, rhythmic, lulling.

For as long as I can remember I had felt that the river Kana was special, and even now, I hold resent in my heart for others who cannot empathize. On that winter day I had walked for hours on the ice, my hands and face beginning to feel numb, and eventually the bells also became cacophonous. When I reached the rock where the river ended, I saw that the water here was also frozen over. I continued walking upon the ice to reach that sculpture//|}}

The first thing that I saw was its head. It was split open, directly in the middle, and I could see within that split hundreds of other, tinier heads, a whole cluster of them. They all had the tiniest eyes and noses and mouths, but no ears. This head was like a flower with countless seeds inside. And like a flower it had a stem. The stem was a very long neck, smooth and frozen over. It was adorned with bulges, some of which were caved in and others little mounds like the scars of a pox. The neck was long and it kept stretching and stretching until it reached the rest of the thing.

Now there was something like a very white and pale trunk. Surrounding it was, as I expected, a big string of bells, all right now moving in unison and playing sounds independent of the motions that should have been caused by wind. Attached to but sliding off the trunk was piles of curled hooks. They connected eventually with a second trunk that rose out of the rock that divided up the frozen river.

This second trunk, like the neck, was covered in bulges and holes. From some of these holes protruded little worm-like appendages, and they stretched outwards and intertwined and twisted together to form a large nest. Inside the nest were the same cluster of heads as the ones growing inside the main split head. These ones, however, had noses, mouths, and ears, but no eyes. Several of the heads were pierced with the hooks from the first trunk. A few of these were curled in unnatural angles and appeared to be wilting or dropping out of the nest.

Trunks like these filled all the river. Yet I knew they were all part of one, because their little nests had thin, spindly threads that weaved together and connected to a central portion. This section was constructed of nothing but the density of the threads, with some other particular features. It had many little curled pincer-like legs, all stepping in a flowing unison on the floor. There were also legs hanging out of the back of this portion, and with nothing to step on, they simply flailed the air. At the top of the density was a cluster of variously coloured pods. Each pod pulsated and resonated, seemingly in rhythm with the playing of the bells. There were piles of hooks there, too, and they reached into the pods and burst them and took out solid substances that were like a bundle. From these bundles protruded chunks of fingers, all tied together in a knot, and the hooks would swing them around until the chunks fell off before returning the bundles to the pods.

I still hear the bells. In my daily life, when I am at work in a big city far away from my small little village. Sometimes, when I am talking to others, and other times when I am alone. I am certain that the bells will always be with me. And each time I hear them, I know it is time to visit the river Kana again, the river Kana that holds such a special place in my heart. I always visit it in winter now, when nobody is willing to come along, and I resent all of them for lacking the same love for Kana as I.