The Writers Voice
The World's
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Do You Love It?
by
Sandra Hajda
Spring was on its way. Achmed could feel it. He woke up most mornings with a
gasp, head still full of lusty dreams. ‘What? Ooer…’ He hunched over and gazed
low for the rest of the day. What if his friends had heard him panting at night?
He spent the days sniffing the air and watching the birds and bees. The girls
were flowering. Buds and berries of every color sprung up in the garden. The
older bushes gossiped amongst themselves and compared buds and petals. The
younger ones had always sung and played games but now they mellowed, not sure
how to react to their showy new bodies.
He wanted to confide in someone. He considered Brak, the disenchanted bush. It
was unusual for Achmed- the enchanted tree- to keep his thoughts to himself.
Normally he was the first to reflect on things: the devilish look on the cat's
face, which made him think of death; the gardener's habit of focusing on the
soil around the dahlias, which was unjust and insensitive; his girlfriend
Anastasia's beautiful aura; the fact that water nurtures things and allows them
to grow, which made it like love; a passing cloud that was the same shape as one
of his acorn clusters; or what 'color' he felt the sound of the lawn mower was.
He found everything inspiring and wanted to share his ideas. Brak had noticed
the change.
'What is wrong with you, man? You never want to talk anymore.'
'What?' Achmed stiffened. He hadn’t even realized the bush was talking.
'Oh, don't worry. Have you heard a word I've said?'
'Um, erm, yeah...' Achmed trailed off. The bush looked at him and snorted.
'Yeah, ok. Whatever... I was just talking about Nadine. Look at her over there.'
Achmed turned to the soil around the fishpond where Nadine the flower was
standing. It was midday so she was bolt upright, her pretty green neck covered
with hairs that caught the sun. Her giggly friends surrounded her.
'…and I can't wait. I can't wait, I can't wait! I've already got this huge bud
just here.' She swiveled so her friends could see the buds near the bottom of
her stem. A big one looked ready to burst. The girls oohed and aahed. Achmed
reddened, feeling like a voyeur. He turned to Brak and started talking, in case
one of them looked over and saw him.
'The water in that pond catches the light in a way that reminds me of the golden
aura around my girlfriend Anasta-'
'Shhhhhh!' Brak was still trying to listen.
'Once I flower... hwooh! It's gonna be my hottest year ever. I've already got,
like, so many guys lined up.' She lowered her voice on the last few words but
Achmed made them out. Brak nudged him. He had heard too.
'Guys... who?' Doris- a very shy flower who had never had a boyfriend- spoke up.
Nadine ignored her. She was on a roll.
'I've worked out the best ways to bend and catch the sun. And the best ways to
search with my roots when the gardener waters us. I'm gonna do everything
perfectly so all my buds flower at once. Last year I almost got it. This year-
perfect! Best year ever!'
She swiveled to the left and right so everyone could admire her. She was such a
showboat.
'Do you love it?'
Nobody answered. Doris the shy lily muttered something under her breath.
Nadine was taken aback by the frowns. She tried to redeem herself. 'I can help
you guys with your buds if you want.' She eyed a girl who wasn’t so well
endowed. Her face arranged itself into a grimace.
Achmed cringed. The group was breaking apart, put off by Nadine's little show.
After a moment she stood alone, grimace still on her face. Achmed felt sorry for
her.
'Haha, sucked in Nadine.' Brak piped up with a sneer. He obviously did not.
Achmed sighed. The disenchanted bush and he were so different. 'I like the way
Nadine is appreciative of beauty'. It reminded him of … well, him. The grimace
had been hurtful, but she couldn't help it. Nadine was not cruel- just vain and
too loud. She always talked until she sabotaged herself. Shot herself in the
foot, as humans would say. He said this to Brak.
'No, Nadine doesn't have feet. If she did they would be perfectly lacquered and
fragrant, and she would shove them in other people's faces so they would
notice.'
Achmed thought of changing the subject but he couldn't be bothered. He went back
to sniffing the air. Sometimes he got sick of the way Brak always focused on
negatives.
The next day Achmed woke early to the sound of mowers. He could hear the wails
of grass in the distance as it was sliced.
His sensitivity to pain was aroused. It put him in the mood to write poetry. 'I
want to tap into the pain of the universe,' he said to himself. The sentiment
sent shivers down his spine. He looked around for someone to share it with but
everyone was asleep.
'The pain of the universe.' He repeated it with an ardent clench of his branch.
There was a hot sting as sap began to form in his crevices.
'Inspiration!' He began to compose. The rhyme came out of him in an emotive
gush. 'The universe is...flowing through me,' he thought.
Distant wails of innocent auras
Dying brothers, sacred flora.
Soon you'll be re-incarnated
(all your foes incinerated).
Next you'll be a towering mount,
a million grass-souls reaching out.
Your peak will touch the very heavens
scraping Pluto (my ascendant).
'Yeah...' He reviewed his work, shivering again at the words 're-incarnated',
'peak' and 'ascendant'.
‘Souls working together... can reach heaven. Love is like a mountain to the
cosmos. An aura that reaches out to the universe.' Sap began to run down his
trunk like human tears.
He looked at his friends sleeping. Each of them was surrounded by a halo of
light. He couldn’t see it, but it had to be there. Brak the disenchanted bush
would have a grey aura. 'Too much logic... not enough love. He needs to become
attuned to the love of the universe.' He decided he would write a poem for Brak,
to inspire him. 'I'll include all the cool stuff: crystals, auras, angels,
numerology... the fact that logic just can't explain everything.' He was
positive his friend could be won over if all aspects of new age mysticism were
pulling together.
'Yeah...or maybe I can draw up his astrological chart and show it to him. There
is probably an aspect that explains why he only believes in science. It'll
explain why he's got such a closed mind. I bet he has Mercury on his ascendant.
Or maybe a hard angle between Saturn and Uranus.'
He looked up at the sky. 'At the time he was born...the planets already knew who
he would become.'
He remembered the time he had correctly guessed that Brak was a Capricorn. 'It
is so obvious. He is obviously a Capricorn.' What had Brak said? Something lame.
'Oh well, you had a one-in-twelve shot.'
Pathetic, thought Achmed. In his mind it had been a shining victory for all
things new age. 'It just goes to show that science can't explain everything.' He
raised his branches slightly, forming a gentle arc like a smile.
'What are you so happy about?' A voice called to him across the garden. With a
rustle of leaves he came back to the present. It was Nadine, craning her neck to
look at him.
'Oh, hey. Hey Nadine. Uh, nothing. I was just thinking about how lame it is when
someone thinks that the entire universe can be described using reason.' He
gestured at the sky with a sweep of his branch.
'Oh yeah, ha ha. Tell me about it. I don't understand it. I only have to look at
something beautiful- like a baby dahlia, or my flowers in the middle of Spring-
and I know that someone created it. Someone is watching me.'
Achmed shivered. 'Yeah… yeah… I know. That's how I feel. We're always being
watched. By angels, or God, or the spirits of the dead. Or sometimes we're being
guided to fulfill our fate... like the fate that is written in an astrology
chart.'
He looked at the sky again. 'I think when something important happens in your
life- like when an acorn I've been nursing for ages finally falls to the
grounds- it means that God and the angels and the spirits and the astrological
planets are all paying attention to me... at the same time! I imagine that
they're gathered in a huddle looking at me. When it's over they go and pay
attention to somebody else. Maybe even a tree on the other side of the world.
Just someone who is due to have a really mystical experience.'
He drew himself out of his thoughts and looked at Nadine. She was mesmerised.
'Oh wow. That is so deep! Wow, Achmed, I didn't realise you were so deep.'
She thought. 'I guess that means that when my buds flower, God will be watching
me. So maybe if I pray I can ask him to make them flower at the same time.'
Achmed let a moment pass before responding. He made his voice deep and sonorous
for extra effect.
'I'm sure he will be listening.'
Nadine melted visibly.
'Ooh, Achmed. I'm so glad we had this talk! Sometimes I feel like there is no
one who believes in stuff like that. It seems like no one else has really deep
thoughts. Do you know what I mean?'
Achmed nodded. 'I know all too well.'
'Sometimes I see you hanging out with Brak, the bush. He is a guy who just
doesn't understand the deep side of life. I told him that the power of crystals
helped me get through a time when I was sick and wilting. He started saying
something about medical researchance and proves and theories- not fun theories
like conspiracy theories, weird thingies about a Popper guy and whether he was
falsificiable. It didn't make sense and I could tell Brak didn't get what I'd
said. Maybe he thought he did, but he didn't really. If he'd understood he would
have agreed. You know what I mean? '
Achmed nodded again. 'Yes, I know exactly what you mean. I spend a lot of time
with him. I'm always trying to get him to admit there are things he doesn't
understand, but he won't. Some people are indoctrinated by science, and it's so
sad. It's like a disease. It stops them from seeing how amazing the world is.'
'Yes! That's exactly how I feel! It's like they are walking around completely
blind.'
'Who is?'
A voice from behind interrupted them. Achmed turned, quick as a heartbeat. He
was sure it was Brak. 'How do I explain this one?' They debated about science
all the time but his friend would not appreciate being badmouthed to one of the
flowers.
The space was empty. Brak was fast asleep, twigs curled down defensively. Achmed
whipped back to Nadine, nearly slaying Merris the fat palm (who was asleep too,
gurgling and muttering about the tropics) with one of his branches.
There was no one there either. Nadine was giggling.
'Up here, stupid.'
Achmed felt a pressure around his branch. He looked up and groaned. It was
Constanz the garden mole, a chatty creature who hung around sometimes. He was a
friend of Nadine’s - probably there to see her. He was wrapped in a bear hug
around Achmed's branch and dry-humping it, a look of mock ecstasy on his face.
Nadine laughed raucously.
Achmed shook his trunk and Constanz fell to the ground. He staggered up and felt
his way across the flowerbed, grinning devilishly. 'So what were you talking
about?' Achmed scowled at him. He hated having his conversation interrupted.
The mole cackled. 'I can't believe you didn't feel me climb up! I nabbed some
choice berries on my way and you didn't even flinch.' He opened his paw to
reveal half a dozen ripe berries, like moist rubies. Achmed snatched them back.
'I was going to give those to Anastasia!'
'Another day and they would have been over-ripe, man. If I'd squeezed they were
going to split apart. Tear up. Give them to your lady when she wakes up.'
Constanz had a voice like a sleepy Mexican: slow and expressive. He started
stroking Nadine's stem, plucking out the odd whisker if he thought it was too
long or too curly.
'Ow! Constanz- I told you not to groom me. Why don't you save that for Gerald,
when you get back to your hole? He's a mess! I thought you said you were all
about presentation.'
Constanz smiled mischievously. 'Well, Gerald has other qualities... He's a great
cook.' His paw played at the base of the flower. 'I just hate to see your pretty
neck spoiled.' He smiled at Nadine and she put her head on his shoulder.
Constanz looked at Achmed expectantly. Achmed prepared to address the mole's
question.
'Uh... we were talking about science. Science, and how some people only believe
in science. And they think there is nothing magical about the world.'
'Science! Who in this garden only believes in science?'
'Heaps of them! Mainly Brak. Brak always debates with me about science, and
whether new age stuff is real. Some people won't even give it a chance. We were
just saying that it's like they are blind. We were-'
He stopped and turned cold. Constanz was looking at him with eyes like dead,
empty holes. The mole was completely blind.
'Uh, erm, that is...we were saying that... they cannot see the possibilities...
I mean they are not aware of them. Conceptual blindness. Um, erm...'
Constanz chuckled. 'No, I agree, man. It's closed-mindedness.'
He lifted his head and sniffed the air. 'I think at this time of year nobody
feels too philosophical... you know? Love is in the air. And lust. This place
smells like a hot sap cocktail.' Nadine squealed, astonished that the mole could
be so crass.
He grinned cheesily and continued sniffing. 'I'm picking up all sorts of
things... a hint of tropical fronds...ah, that's Merris over there, dreaming of
boy palms with big round coconuts...What's this? Oak and pine from those tough
studs by the fence... and now a sweet floral wisp, like perfume... oh Nadine, is
that you?' The flower jabbed him, scandalised. Constanz prodded her with his
nose and she giggled, keeping her eyes down. Achmed watched her lustily.
The mole turned to Achmed and became thoughtful. 'But you know, guys like Brak
have a point.'
Achmed stiffened, ready to formulate a comeback. He would say whatever it took.
'I will not have my moment with Nadine compromised.' The thought strengthened
his resolve.
'There is another way of thinking about it.' Achmed leaned forward in
anticipation. 'When you think about it, science is really-' Constanz interrupted
himself and whipped around to tickle the flower. She was watching him with a
gaping look, ready to hear his argument, and totally unprepared. Her scream
carried across the garden like a swift wind, echoing several times. There was a
chorus of groans and exclamations as everyone woke up.
Achmed looked down at his roots and grumbled. He wished the mole would go away.
'What the hell are you doing! Get out of here, Constanz.' An oak by the fence
chastised them in his booming voice.
'Yeah, yeah. Go back to sleep.' Constanz grabbed the giggling flower in a
headlock and started chanting: 'She loves it... She loves it not... She loves
it... She loves it not... Do you love it, Nadine?' His paw travelled in a
semicircle around her head, yanking her petals.
'I hate it! Get off me, Constanz!' She screamed laughingly.
Achmed was tired of watching them. 'I might see if I can get some more sleep.
Try to be quiet.'
'Ok, Achmed.' The mole grinned without stopping the assault. 'We'll have the big
debate some other time.'
Achmed curled his branches and fell into an uneasy sleep, dreaming about
crystals and angels and screeching girls. A furry creature appeared
occasionally, trying to steal the crystals and girls and deny the existence of
the angels.
Constanz visited Nadine every day for the next week. Achmed watched them from
his corner. She kept Constanz up-to-date on the progress of her buds. The first
one was beginning to flower: a bright dot opening its eye slowly like a young
kitten. Nadine wailed at it to slow down so the others could catch up and the
mole fanned it feverishly with his paws, as if that would help.
They played around and fussed but every evening Constanz went home to his
roommate Gerald. 'Good- there is nothing between them.' The mole did the rounds
of the garden sometimes, joking with the other girls. One morning he came to
Achmed with a big grin and asked how Anastasia was.
'She's well. I gave her those berries you took and she said they were nice, but
maybe a bit under-ripe.'
Constanz smiled. 'That's a shame. Listen, have a chat with Nadine at some stage.
She says she gets bored when I'm not around and I think she likes talking to you
about philosophy and religion and all that.'
Achmed perked up. 'I like talking to her too.'
The mole grinned and turned to someone else. Eventually he was back alongside
Nadine, laughing and joking. Achmed was sure Constanz kept looking at him: for
once those blank eyes were full of significance.
'Intriguing' he thought. He had not said it, but things were going badly with
Anastasia. A rock sculpture was interrupting water flow to her part of the
garden and she was barren and grumpy. She took it out on Achmed a lot, telling
him to be quiet if he was in a reflective mood.
'You know, it might be nice if you developed a practical side. There are plants
and animals in the world with actual problems. Like me. When you have real
problems you don't waste time thinking about whether the moon is feminine and
whether it complements the masculine sun.' Achmed withdrew, hurt. It was not his
fault she felt dry. It was the silly gardener's fault: Achmed had complained
about him many times. He felt sorry for himself. Why did everyone have to take
problems out on him?
He spent more and more time watching Nadine. He wanted to talk to her, but
alone. Having someone around would hinder his self-expression.
'The universe wouldn't be able to... flow through me.'
So he held back, thinking about what Constanz had said. 'She likes talking to me
about philosophy.' Was that it? No, the mole had been hinting at something. He
confided to Brak about it.
'That camp mole? Don't listen to him. Nadine likes Pauly the oak, and he likes
her back. The garden is abuzz about it. Man, you've been dead to everything
lately. If you ask me, those two deserve each other. Have you seen the oaks
working out by the fence? They do branch lifts and twig raises. Bunch of posers.
I heard Pauly boasting about how he can lift his root out of the soil, show it
to you, and then force it back down to its original position. Him and Nadine
should hook up and be posers together.'
Achmed felt a sharp pang in his trunk. Pauly! Nadine didn't like Pauly! Did she?
He vowed to find out the next day.
Pandemonium broke out in the garden at 9am. A chorus of yells went up and anyone
still slumbering was woken immediately.
'Oh wow. Oh my god. What is it?' Achmed woke from an amazing dream. 'Elves and
unicorns!' The voices of his friends had washed over him as he slept, so
committees of the creatures had been bickering.
'Hurmph. Ugh. I was dreaming of fights and nastiness. I guess it wasn't all a
dream, ha ha.' He turned lazily to Brak and rustled his leaves to wake himself.
'Well... I wouldn't perk up too fast. I don't think you're gonna like this,
man.'
Achmed looked around. 'What is going on?' Everyone was up. His eyes locked on
Merris the fat palm. She was doubled over and wailing, hot sap leaking down her
trunk. Her fronds shook as she wept.
By the fence, the oaks had pressed their trunks together and were speaking in
low voices, casting protective looks around the garden. They considered
themselves the guardians of the others. Today they looked like they had
something to guard against.
'What happened?' Achmed couldn't figure it out. He glanced at the eucalyptuses.
They normally kept to themselves (‘simpering bunch of terrified Christians’ Brak
called them). They were too obsessively religious to socialize with anyone else.
Today they had spread their branches out, joining everyone in prayer. A murmur
of Our Fathers and Hail Marys could be heard whenever there was a break in the
yelling.
'Oh no you don't.' Brak grumbled as a eucalyptus branch snaked towards him,
trying to lock around his twig. He sidled away. 'Erm, no thanks.' He would not
be involved in the praying, even passively.
Achmed couldn't see the source of the commotion. He prepared to yell to the oaks
(they would know) but a figure came running across the dirt. It was Constanz.
'Achmed! Achmed, have you seen?' For once his lazy voice rippled with angst.
'No! What on earth is it?'
The mole caught his breath. 'Oh my god! No one's told you? Look over there!'
He gestured to the pond area. Merris was banging her trunk against the fence,
sending chips flying everywhere. A slender palm was trying to console her and
taking a beating in the process. A flat line ran down her side where the spiky
bark had been stripped away.
'Did something happen to Merris?'
Constanz shook with impatience. 'God you're dumb. Up higher, on the windowsill!'
Achmed cast his gaze up. He hadn't thought to look at the human dwelling. 'Who
cares what happens there?' His gaze traveled past the door where the humans
entered, up the brick wall, and settled on the windowsill. He froze in horror.
A vase sat on the sill. Inside was- he could barely look- a bouquet of freshly
clipped flowers: beautiful blooms of all kinds and colors, still wet with
morning dew. There were posies, pansies, roses, dahlias, daisies and bunches of
lavender. There was even a massive sunflower, towering above the others.
Achmed teared up. He recognized the sunflower- a bubbly girl named Pollyanna. He
had told her stories about fairies when she was growing up.
That wasn’t the worst of it. At the base of the bunch, next to a stem of
eucalyptus stood Nadine, her pretty neck catching the sun. She had been clipped.
Sap rose in his trunk. His branches quivered and fell to the ground. 'I can’t
even talk to her at this distance.' Constanz rested his paw on Achmed's trunk
but the tree pushed him away.
'Yeah, it sucks. But you know what's ok about it, man? I think she likes it.'
Achmed raised himself for another look. The sun was hitting Nadine and she was
standing proudly and enthusiastically. Her buds were all at mid-flower: with any
luck they would open at the same time. Achmed smiled despite himself. Of course
she would be happy about that.
A human woman appeared at the window. She added a couple of twigs to the bouquet
and gushed over her handiwork. Nadine stood up a little straighter. She was
loving the attention.
He kept smiling. Days passed, slowly getting hotter, and Nadine disappeared from
the sill. A store-brought bouquet replaced the old one. Achmed threw his
attention back to Anastasia, who cheered up as the weather warmed and water
started flowing through her soil again.
He never told anyone his feelings for Nadine, not even Brak. For a few days
after she disappeared he was very sad. No one could understand why he suddenly
stopped writing poems and rambling about mysticism. All they knew was that for a
strange little period that year, the enchanted tree suddenly became
disenchanted.
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