Insanity

She was mad, that was a given.

She ran with abandon and laughed like a child. She talked to the trees, the flowers, the water of the streams. She pranced in fields with the butterflies and bees. And she danced with the flames. She heard things and saw things that no one else did and was called mad for it. But oh, how they envied her her freedom.

You could see it in the way she moved, as though she were being lifted by the wind itself. You could see it in her eyes, as though the sun and a thousand stars had been trapped there. You could hear it in her laugh, as though all the bells in the world had gifted her with their sound. And you could see it in her smile. Her secretive smile.

~~~~

"Why do you do that?" he remembered asking when he was but a child, young and naive and curious.

"Do what?" she had answered in that way of hers, her head tilted to one side like a cat but with a face not at all suited for cunning.

"That, the dancing and laughing and talking to yourself thing. People say you're mad 'cause you do."

"But, I don't do any of that alone," she had replied, a surprised tilt to her voice as though he had said something odd.

"You do too! I saw you just then; you were talking to a tree and laughing! That's crazy!" he had shouted back, offended at the thought of being thought of as stupid. Everyone else thought him to be young and silly, but he wasn't!

"Why's it crazy? She has a great sense of humour," she had replied, puzzled.

"Who?"

"The tree."

"What?" he had asked, incredulous. "The tree doesn't have a sense of humour!"

"Of course she does. Have you never talked to her before?"

"'Course not! It's a tree!"

"Yes, she is. So what?"

"Trees don't talk!" he had yelled back with all the conviction of a ten year old.

"But they do."

~~~~~

It had been a few years since his last conversation with her. She had grown even wilder since then, her hair a mess of tangles all the way to the back of her knees and her dress torn at the hem. But there was always something beautiful about her before and that hadn't changed.

"You were talking to the water," he had said in an accusatory tone.

"Yes." It was a simple reply, as though she were answering the most obvious thing in the world. And perhaps she was.

"Why?"

"Why not?"

"Because it's stupid, that's why."

"Why's it stupid?" she had asked in a curious tone, the tone of a child.

"Because water doesn't talk back!"

"But he does!" she had answered, as though surprised that he hadn't known something that he should have.

"No, it doesn't!"

"Of course, he does! Have you never talked to him before?"

He walked away.

~~~~~


"Why is it that you talk to things that can't talk back?"

It had been ten years since he had first talked to her. She had grown into a beauty, but as the towns people liked to put it, it was a shame that she was a crazy.

He had learned patience since then, and this time he would have a proper conversation with her. After all, he was trained as a doctor, and if he couldn't be patient with a mad woman, no one could. And he refused to let that happen. He wasn't sure why.

She sighed, as though tired of repeating the same thing over and over again. "Because they can talk back."

"How?" he asked, holding on to his patience and reminding himself that there was always something to be learnt in every person. Even mad ones.

"The same way we do. You've just got to listen."

"But I can't hear anything," he said, after a pause of listening to the silence of the forest.

"That's because you're not listening."

"I am!"

"No, you aren't," she said gently, as though afraid of hurting his feelings.

"Well then, how do you listen?" A touch of childish impertinence tinging his voice.

"By listening."

"That doesn't answer anything!" he yelled out, before forcefully calming himself. Taking a deep breath, he tried again. "Why don't you try to describe this listening to me?"

She laughed, her head thrown back and peals of laughter escaping her lips. It was done in abandon. Everything she did was done in abandon. Oh, how he envied her at times.

"I can't describe listening to you. You either do or don't."

"Well, how is it that you do?"

"Because I see them for what they are," she laughed out, making to turn back to her wandering.

"See who for what they are?"

"Everything." It was said so simply, with such calmness. Suddenly, she looked ethereal.

"Wh-" he wanted to say, but could only stare at her in awe and befuddlement.

Shaking her head and with a small smile on her lips, she answered his unspoken question, "Open up your senses. Not just sight or sound or touch, but taste and smell and heart. Feel it all. See it all. Taste it all. Smell everything and hear everything. Feel it. Let everything overwhelm you and embrace you."

He sat down on the damp earth, breathing in morning air deeply.

"Don't ignore anything."

He emptied himself of all thought but the memory of her voice.

"Take it all in."

It was hard, but he tried. He sat for hours upon the earth, feeling every little grain of sand pressing against his skin and every little breeze that cooled his flesh. He listened to every rustle, chirp or plop. He smelled the distinct smell of grass and earth and even... water.

"Let go!" She had flung her arms out wide and spun around with gleeful laughter as she said that. "You'll feel it!"

He felt a strange stirring inside of him. It felt like something was crushing him from the inside.

"You'll hear it! The whispering, singing, laughter."

There was something at the very edge of his consciousness, begging him to listen to whispers that were growing louder by the minute.

"You'll taste it! The dirt, the sand, the grime, the heat, the wind!"

His tongue tingled with the taste of the cold morning air, sharp yet soothing.

"You'll smell it! Everything that was, that is, that will be!"

He could smell the aroma of freshly baked bread, but that was impossible--the baker wouldn't start for another three hours.

"And you'll see it! Everything!"

Snapping his eyes open, he saw brightness and darkness and colours. The trees were moving and curious, old eyes were staring at him.

"It's like death and birth and insanity! You can't stop from feeling everything all at once!"

He was terrified and awed and gleeful and sad. It was madness!

"You'll want to dance with everything around you, even the immobile rocks! You'll want to talk to everyone who will talk to you and want to share what they have!"

He moved towards the nearest tree, reaching out a hand towards the branch-like palm offered to him. Around him, giggles and chuckles could be heard; too high for them to be from the village girls and too rough for them to be from the village men.

"You'll never be able to turn back after that. It's... too beautiful and terrifying to give up."

He moved further into the recesses of the forest, following the pull of the trees and the wind and even the urgings of the rocks. His feet moved faster with every step he took until he was running with the wolf-like winds. He was terrified and overjoyed.

He didn't want to leave.

"But you know that you'll never have to worry, because you'll always have friends around you. Everywhere. In everything. All the time."

In the distance he could hear familiar laughter and the flash of a familiar smile.

He didn't turn back.

~~~~~~~~

Stranger things have come out of my mind before, so I'm sure the lot of you who reads this stuff (whoever you may be) are used to it by now.

I honestly can't say where it came from this time without feeling like a bigger fool than I already know I am. So, meh! XP

And the damn thing ran away with itself as always. All I really wanted to do was to write the scene where the crazy girl describes "seeing magical beings" in everything but it turned out into this monstrosity. Ah well.