The Wall

Kendra Grant Malone

Kahoko often took walks when feeling confused and shaken. This is exactly what she had decided to do on the day she discovered the wall. She found an existential peace coursing through her body, when allowed to meander without sidewalks and streets. Without direction her physical self was in tandem with her emotional self, and there was birthed a symbiotic union that left her calm and slightly winded. Most of these walks took place in parks, strolling barefoot through large planes of grass. If an undemanding daily schedule provided the time, she would walk the shoulder of a road to a wooded area, and venture in.

It was fall. The percussiveness of the leaves under her feet made for a trance-like state as she wandered. She quietly, thoughtlessly hummed a melody in response to the rhythm of the leaves underfoot. She sang to the leaves. The leaves continued their beat for her in return. It was in this musical trance that she fumbled about a bit farther into the dense woods than she had gone before. Kahoko's head was down, projecting her tiny voice to the leaves, but she managed to avoid collision with trees and shrubbery by way of peripheral eyesight. Being that her periphery lingered at the corners of her eyes, she was startled by the sudden way the wall planted itself directly, perpendicularly, in front of her winding path. The percussion ended and subsequently so did Kahoko's soft tune. It was a cloudy day and as she gazed up to find the end of the seemingly limitless wall, her eyes met with a haze not far up, devouring the structure. The large stones were smooth and evenly mortared into place. However, the wall was covered in an unusual growth of vines. The stalks of said vines varied in thickness, from roughly the size of Kahoko's waist to the width of her fingers. She tugged at first gently, then with great force at the vines. She found them to be stable, fit to support the weight of a slight woman. Hesitantly, Kahoko began to scale the wall.

It was with surprising ease that she began her climbing. The percussiveness of the leaves was replaced with a shimmering hiss of the tiny leaves attached to the vines, which Kahoko disturbed as she climbed. She began to sing again. Louder now. She was facing the wall, singing once again to the leaves that provided the hypnotic rhythm that moved her upward. Within a short time she found herself climbing and singing within the thick mist of cloud cover. Kahoko did not look down nor up. She traveled on, facing forward, harmonizing with the plant life. Eventually she immerged above the cloud cover to see the same wall in front of her. The vines were now growing more and more sparse and Kahoko was forced to out-stretch her arms at full length to continue on. As she scaled her voice sounded different to her. Kahoko's voice sounded like something plural. From time to time, she felt that she was harmonizing with herself and not the vines.

Kahoko reached a point were the vines ceased. She halted. The stone in front of her had changed its form underneath the growth of vines. It was now made of smaller, less even and poorly mortared stones. The colors varied as well. And along with the other variables, the depth of the stones was changing. While she clung silently considering what to do mid-air, she again heard her voice singing the song she was previously singing to the vines on the wall. It was muffled but assuredly there. The song motivated Kahoko on. She brazenly lifted her stronger arm up to a small stone that jetted out from the now uneven wall.

Kahoko again began singing as she struggled up the wall. She was tired, and covered in sweat. Her hands became slippery and her breath labored. She sang louder and louder with her echoing voice that was now clearly coming from the other side of the wall. She scaled. Her muscles were twitching with exhaustion and she was beginning to sing out of key. Louder and louder she sang. She climbed faster. Desperate. Filled with a compassionate despair for her condition that now drove her at a terrifying speed, still facing the wall.

A ledge stuck out of the wall. Kahoko grabbed the ledge with both hands and hoisted herself up onto it. The rest was needed. Her bodied heaved on the ledge, still singing and pulsating with excitement. The ledge she sat on was in front of a window. The window was filthy. It looked as though it has not been cleaned in hundreds of years. Kahoko wiped the filth off the thickly paned window. It was heavily warped so that she could not quite make out the dancing shapes below her on the other side. The muffled coruous of her voice was loud. A loose rock fell to the ledge. The singing Kahoko did what was nessessary. She smashed the window. Blood streamed down her hands, which she was looking at for the first time since she veered of the side of the road hours ago. Small shards of glass were everywhere. The blood was not from the glass, she was not cut. Her fingernails had all bent backwards or ripped completely off during her ferocious climb. The singing was clear now. An army of voices, all belonging to Kahoko, unmistakably.

Kahoko held her now weak body out the window. She was not in the least bit surprised to see a mess of Kahokos below her, running amok, singing wildly the melody she had been herself singing. All of the Kahokos appeared naked and Kahoko was embarrassed. Kahoko yelled out. None of the Kahokos noticed. They continued to dance feverishly.

Filled with a desperation for the environment below her, Kahoko leapt from the window. Her grey wool dress sailed above her head. She was blinded as she fell, singing at her full volume, which was still quite quiet. She continued to fall for a much longer time than it took her to scale. She fell without grace or control.

It is not true what they say. Upon a great fall one does not die on impact. Kahoko was alive for several minutes after she plummeted to the ground. She felt her bones break and her organs liquefy. She was unable to move. Her singing ceased, not because she lost her inspiration to sing with the other Kahokos, but because her throat had collapsed. Pools of fluid collected around her. Singing quietly now, the other Kahokos gathered around her to softly caress Kahoko. They stroked her hair and her face and her legs while two more Kahokos undressed her. She was not breathing, not blinking. Kahoko closed her eyes and was thankful that death was indeed a peaceful process.

The Kahokos became enraged at her passing. Their tender caresses became more brutal. They pulled at her flesh. They pulled hysterically at her hair until chunks came out. They pulled muscles off her body. They rolled, crazed, singing in her blood and fluid at her side. They smeared the fluids all over each other and ate her organs. The Kahokos were screaming their melody, loosing the gentle beauty of the song, making it terrifying and dissonant. When there was very little left of Kahoko, they began to wail and cry and ran scattered back into the woods from whence they came.

Kahoko's bones and grey wool dress lay there, silently alone next to the wall.



© Kendra Grant Malone 2008

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Kendra Grant Malone lives in New York, has been published in Zygote In My Coffee, Pineapplewar, Literary Tonic and is regularly DRUNK. She has a website here.