Kudzu Ocean

(Concise version to be published by TWIG magazine)

Emergent layer

She drops her ring, a thin jade band with a vine of glistening diamond twisting all around it, beneath her. We watch it tumble down, surely it’ll be caught in one of our nets, maybe land on one of our wooden bridges, maybe we’ll find it in someone’s hammock of woven leaves.

But it doesn’t happen. It falls down, we watch it fade into a green abyss.

***

We hear it before we see it. A puff of leaves and pollen, rising from below, from whatever haunts the forest floor, sounding like a gust of wind. It stops the whole colony, pairs and pairs of dark eyes looking in our direction.  Laumé leans forward, hair resting on the ropes running along the bridge, looking down with a now bare finger. Leaves start to fall down gently, returning to their home beneath us. A drop of pollen lands on her neck, it draws blood.

I grab her arm, forcing her away. We resume our walk back home. I tell her not to even think about it, but in my head I formulate a plan.

***

Within the Treetops, the amphitheatre is the only spot from which you can observe the sun. I catch glimpses of it through the golden-amber ceiling above me as I wait to be called in.

Wooden, twice-carved doors open, the Elder Mother sits on her throne of ivy. It was once a tree, eradicated from the forest floor, a trophy from a time when we used to live below among the plants, taken when we made our escape to the Treetops. She sits in this hollowness, no one can tell where the tree ends and she begins.

‘Carya. I have read your request but I need to hear it from you. Why did you come here?’

‘To request permission to dive down to the forest floor.’

‘So you have.’ She says, pulling a twig from her throne to chew on. She breaks off another and passes it to me. ‘Do not speak of such things without protection.’

I take it reluctantly.

‘Do you know how to reach the forest floor?’ She asks.

I admit I do not. If I had to guess I’d assume I would be tied to a vine and lowered down.

She shakes her head. ‘No, you jump. But before then we dress you in diving gear.’

‘If you are serious, Carya, if this ring means that much to you, then you have my permission. But when the thorns come, you will be on your own.’

***

Canopy Layer

It’s metal, covered in moss, and it takes five people to fasten it onto me. A round helmet it reminds me of an oversized berry, with its uneven bumps.  The body is made of a soft rubber, making my hair stand up the moment it brushes against my skin.

So the air is poisonous there?

No Carya, there is no air there.

They bind twigs around the green-copper armour, a protective layer.

You will feel yourself descend slowly, the air getting thicker and thicker until it is gone. Retrieve your ring and leave immediately after.

How do I leave?

You jump again, and you wade, if the kudzu doesn’t get to you first.

***

It’s a freefall for the first few metres. The Treetops fade in a viridian whirlwind, and I observe the trees as I plummet past, trying to focus on each indistinguishable leaf. It is only when I can pick out where each branch starts and ends that I realise I’ve reached this new part of the forest.

I still fall, albeit slower. I feel like I’m submerged in water, one of those natural pools from back home above me.

The colours change slowly, from the shades of green I’m used to into more vibrant hues. Leaves grow pick and purple spots, yellow, runny-yolk flowers bloom on branches.

I fall more and it’s a typhoon of pigments. They form shapes, blue branches like waves and droplets of water, white leaves taking off from trees like a flock of butterflies. The colours glow brightly, and I admire every last one of them, not wanting to forget a single tint. I ask myself why we ever left.

Even my diving suit shines. Circlets of light forming on moss, changing from cobalt, to indigo, to lilac, to blush, it’s hypnotising and I cannot tell the exact moment when a colour changes to the next.

But I all soon becomes to much. The circlets change in shape, a brightness so intense I advert my gaze, redirected back to the trees but they start to mimic the moss’ patterns.

I watch the branches undulate in the thick air, leaves falling off with each dip and regrowing the moment the branches rise. Flower growing onto each other, stacked up like totems, turning colours I had never seen before and couldn’t even name.

It’s too much. I close my eyes and let myself fall, still seeing those colours with my eyes shut. I only open them when they’ve gone and I realise the air has gotten thicker, like gelatine.

***

Understory Layer

The colours do not fade away, but they are more muted here.  I fall in silence until I notice that I am hearing something.

It’s a single word, repeated over and over, I cannot tell what it is, it’s a string of letters murmured by this voice. A second voice joins in, then a third. It sounds like a chant, maybe a song.

Who is speaking? I think, directing the question to the forest around me. No one lives here, only the trees. We are the only civilisation left in the forest, having moved up to the treetops many years ago, when the Elder Mother herself was a young girl.

One of the voices stops, the deepest one, I can tell, no longer are its words reverberating in my bones. A few seconds and it answers my question.

Us, the trees.

What exactly are you saying? I ask. How can this entity read hear my thoughts?

Can you not recognise your own name?

Nd its clear now. Carya. What they have been repeating this whole time.

How do you know my name?

The same way we can read your thoughts. They are not hidden to us, you bear them on your skin. Your name, your mission, who you are, your thoughts. It’s etched all over yourself.

That makes no sense.

It doesn’t and it does. It’s not something your kind can ever comprehend, especially while hiding up there, so close to the sky.

The harmony is broken with that last sentence. The voice returns to chanting my name but it is the only one. They all speak at once, I can pick out some words but not many, my head hurts from trying.

I can hear some repeating the previous conversation, other voices only echo the last words mentioned, a few only the beginning phrases. New voices join in, replicating sounds. Ladybird wings fluttering, the rustling wind, drops of water padding across branches.

It’s loud, but not as loud as the silence that comes afterwards, once I have fallen crosses the invisible border into the last forest layer. I wonder if I have lost my ability to hear all together, doubts dispelled only by the soft thudding of landing onto a blanket of green grass.

No. Not grass, kudzu. 

***

Forest Floor

There is no air there, Carya.

I land on both feet and find myself making a smaller involuntary jump immediately, my arms flailing around.

There are no vivid colours here, just green. A deep, rich green. I close my eyes and I can still see it, as if it rooted itself within my eyelids. The ground is soft, I can feel it beneath me even while wearing the suit. A softness I can only compare to the blankets of fallen leaves that form on the Treetops pathways in autumn, and even then, not quite the same.

The warm glow of the forest floor engulfs me. I look up, the sky invisible, the kudzu having climbed up the trees, absorbing their trunks.  Some strands having made it higher up than others.

It’s taking over the forest. I realise. There are no bushes, no animals, no brightly pigmented leaves and flowers. It took over everything.

I remember the Elder Mother’s words, urging me to find the ring and leave. Scanning around the forest floor, a feeble glint catches my eye. It’s there, Laumé’s ring, placed neatly on what once was a tree stump.

I reach for it, lifting one foot then another, or almost. I can’t move my left leg, I realise. Looking down, I see a singular vine bridged over my foot.

I lift it again; it doesn’t work. So I reach down and yank it off myself, and I am freed, at the expense of my hand, encircled by two vines.

The ring. I need to reach the ring.

I learn to take quick steps, lifting my legs as high as possible to get away from the kudzu’s clutches. The vines keep forming around my hand, forming a green sleeve down my wrist to my elbow.

If I can get the ring, then  I can make my way back up. There’s only so far this plant can follow me.

I reach it, dusting off pollen with my thumb, and then pocket it. My arm now completely covered in vines and leaves; it starts encircling my neck. I take off, jumping.

I make it around to three metres up in the air before I’m pulled down by my arm. I land on my back, the distant Treetops staring back at me, all I see is green.

I rise before the kudzu can try to seize another limb of mine, and try again. I make it to four metres in this attempt, the vines on my arm try to pull me down again, but I resist, expecting it this time.

Five metres up, my arm aching as  I fight against the kudzu who clings onto me. I see a few branches snapping off and falling down. I’m convinced that I will make it, that I can survive this fight.

Six metres and a remaining branch still holds on to my shoulder blade. I manage to break free and for a singular moment I can see it. Heading back up the forest, to the Treetops. Being welcomed home by my people, Laumé weeps as she hugs me and I hand her back her ring. I am home, I survived.

But I’m dragged down once again, from by back this time. A thick mantel of green ropes of ivy, and I land onto my back. I cannot get up, I can only move my head.

I watch it take over my feet, my ankles, up to my knees and my legs are gone. As it climbs up to my waist, I’m reminded of the ring safely stored in my pocket. The last few moments of my life are dedicated to retrieving it. I take it out, clutched in my hand, safe stored in my fist, and throw it up with all my strength.

I watch it rise up. Surely it’ll be caught in one of our nets, maybe land on one of our wooden bridges, maybe Laumé will find it in someone’s hammock of woven leaves.