Kautia'ar

“Oh, young one, you must learn that there is always beauty in the sad. For it is only with the sad that there is the happy. Without the darkness there can be no light and without tears there can be no joy. That city was one of many that had fallen, but in a way it was more magnificent than all the other places I had been.” 

“But among the ruined you realize how blessed you are to just exist. In the quiet of that city you could hear your own heart beat with the fading breaths of the village that had once stood there. It is better to have fading breaths and a slowing beat than none at all. Always remember that, little one.”

TOP CREATIVE WORK OF THE MONTH WINNER - Sept ‘24

Creaky wooden houses and dusty streets, yellow brown grass and a people that offered nothing but monotony. A quiet place, a small town. This was the kind of village with not much to look at, unless you knew where to look. 

No matter how far lost soldiers or wandering folk floated, not many turned up in the gray alleys of Kautia'ar. Not many at all. This place was one without the hustle and bustle of the loud cities, and yet leeched of the quiet beauty of the small towns. This village was without it all; a blank, wrinkled paper. 

Not many entered, not many left. A village that never grew and never lost. People who never quite met love, but rarely saw suffering either. It was a balance, a sickening, twisted balance that never seemed to make sense to the few stragglers that made it to the shores of Kautia'ar. It was the same. Day after day, Kautia'ar stayed the same. 

Until her. 

She never gave her real name, some say she’d forgotten it with her travels, lost herself along the way. No one quite knew where she came from, only that she was born of the storms and the sea and lived with the fall of the rain. Yes, on that stormy night while the sea rushed it brought her along. Washed up with the waves the townsmen pulled her in, confused and flummoxed to how a young girl with scraggly white-silver hair and miss-matched eyes might’ve ever found herself at sea on such a bleak day. Those eyes! One as blue and deep as the ocean and the other the palest of greens, like frozen-over lichen. “A sea witch!” some suggested, “A water nymph!” others said. But it was not until she was taken to the broken, mundane streets of Kautia'ar did they truly see her. 

She was a quiet girl, one that hid a little too well. Like a pearl, or perhaps, a gem. But she loved the village, oh! How she loved it! The people of the village never knew what to make of it, the way she frolicked through the barren paths as though they were meadows of flowers. They never understood, they never could. 

They truly did not know what to make of her, only that she was good. Yes, very good. “Kausha'ra,” she told them, “call me Kausha'ra, for I am one with Kautia'ar.” And so they did, and she lived among them, odd as she was. The villagers came to see that they liked her, enjoyed her soft gentleness and quiet solace. They grew around her, they embraced her and welcomed her and she grew, too. She grew like a great tree, her roots spreading far and wide. And, yes, she was truly the spirit of Kautia'ar. 

“Mother!” The little girl cried, a springy energy slipping into her shrill little voice, for she was to go to the gardens today with all the other children. The little girl’s name was Paislee, and how excited was she! “Mother, oh, mother!” 

“Oh, what is it now, my child?” One could not say the mother was angry, not even annoyed, despite the impatience in her voice or the frown on her face. No, you couldn’t quite say so, for when she bent to wipe the little girl’s face she did so with tenderness.

“I am going to the gardens!” Paislee said, bouncing lightly on the tips of her toes. Suddenly she stopped, a seriousness crossing over her pretty little features and fair eyes. “Please, mother?” A slight sigh sounded from the mother, exasperation and maybe a little bit of annoyance. 

“All alone, Pai?” 

“Oh, no, mother! I am going with the other children, and, oh, Kausha’ra will be there today!” Paislee was beside herself with excitement, one was sure to see it with the way she twirled and giggled in her simple beige dress and brown hair. For the way she moved herself you could imagine her as a fairy. 

“Well, I suppose. Be good for Asha, dear!” Just as Mother called the last few words, Paislee took off. Her dainty feet tumbling down the steps of their ramshackle house, creaking as she went. Her brown hair flew like a cape behind her and she ran, down the street and across the main square. Through the marketplace little Paislee went, yelling greetings to the townsmen. 

“Good morning, Uncle Geruld!” She squealed, leaping past a few fallen apples and tripping back into a sprint. Paislee slowed just a bit to hug Lady Perrilund, the old mistress who had made Paislee’s birthday cake last year and ran the bakery. 

“Are you good, my sweet?” She said, the corners of her eyes crinkling when she smiled. It seemed that Paislee was impatient to keep going, but still, she nodded kindly. 

“Oh, yes, Miss Perrilund. Very good!” 

“Be good for your mother!” Lady Perrilund called as Paislee twirled and continued on her way, dashing through the market and into the meadows. 

Paislee had been quite young when Kausha'ra had washed up to the village; she’d probably only seen seven summers. But she could still remember the dreary days and ashen yellow color of the grass. She could still taste the smoke from the days of forest fires and feel the shiver in her bones from the storms and hurricanes. She could remember, but never paid it much thought for how much change had come to the village since Asha. It was as though the everyday thrill of the village covered her memories like a thick blanket. 

As Paislee ran through the fields of flowers and daisies she closed her eyes just a little bit, savoring the sweet sunlight and cool breeze, one could imagine. Truly, the weather was wonderful and the sun was shining, a perfect day playing in the meadow. Though, with Asha, everyday was wonderful in Kautia'ar. 

Soon, she could hear the soft squeals of the children and the shrill giggles of the little girls. Pounding down the last bend of the path, Paislee bound into the clearing joining in with the kids and smiling wildly. 

“Paislee!” The little girl, whose family ran the cafe in the village square, said, her pretty blue eyes alight in the sunlight. Her blond hair had been tied up into two bouncy ponytails, whirling around her face as she ran toward Paislee. With a quick shriek of excitement, Paislee took off toward her. 

“Lila!” Paislee leaped up to give Lilabeth a quick hug and laughed along with her. The two had been best friends since childhood, grown up together in the little village and formed an unbreakable bond. They laughed and pranced around the clearing, and in that moment, if you walked into the clearing you’d feel the way the air turned sweeter and buzzed with magic. Indeed, Kautia'ar was a place of magic and enchantments. It had not always been like this, but right now, it was as charming as a twinkling star. 

Suddenly, the clearing quieted a notch and then immediately burst into a loud thrum of kids speaking and asking questions. Paislee craned her neck to see over the swarm of children and caught a glance at bright, shining white hair and a pair of miss-matched eyes.

Asha had come. 

Now, Asha was a busy young lady, which is why it was not often she came to the meadow, though she enjoyed spending time with the littles ones of the village. She had woken up early that morning and joined the women on their walk to the well before she’d gathered her things and headed to the market early to help a few of the elders and their food shops. Barely past noon, the woman had made her way through the village to the healers hut, working with a few of the healers. While she’d been absorbed in her work, she’d taken a glance at the sun and realized the children would already be in the meadows and she’d promised a few of them she’d be there. 

With a few sharp pants, Asha bustled into the meadow, still wearing her ruffled cream-toned dress and leather sandals. And, before she knew it, the children were upon her.

Paislee ducked under one of the taller boys and tunneled her way closer to Asha. Pushing her way through the crowd, she smiled along with all the other children. 

“Oh, Asha!” Paislee cried, giggling with excitement. She’d only spoken with Asha a few times before, but every time she’d felt the lady’s kindness. 

“Now, now,” Asha beamed with delight at the children and quieted them down as she settled down onto the fresh grass. “Why, how about you lot calm down a bit for me and I’ll tell you a little story?” Now, Paislee loved stories. She’d grown up with her mother’s fairytales and her father’s folklores, but she was ecstatic to hear one of Asha’s, for she was sure that it would be better than them all. After all, Asha was more magical than them all. A gift from the seas, the elders had told Paislee when she was little. 

Lila must have said something because when Paislee looked back up at Asha, she was laughing. “Oh, children, come now. I’ll tell you about where I come from.

“I don’t remember much of it, but I had always traveled along the sea. Yes, you know, the great blue mass of water that laps at the edge of our village. Yes, that's it! A beautiful force of nature, I tell you. I’d follow the ocean and listen to its waves as I traveled with it. I once visited a city made of marble white stone. It glistened in the sun and shimmered under the stars at night. Oh yes, even more beautiful than me, little one. The buildings and palaces were all made of the same white stone and, let me tell you, the city was more luscious than anything I’d ever seen before. The people had invented new ways to build up a lovely community. How I had loved the marbled city! 

“Another time I’d found my way to a fairy’s village, well that was how it had seemed. It was nestled into the edge of a forest, one where the flowers grew in every color and the mushrooms were bright red with white spots. Everyday was a sunny one and their little cottages were oh so whimsical and fun. Each one is unique! All the folk there were sweet and spoke in the prettiest little accents. Oh, well of course. There were so many little forest creatures that would scurry around the village.” 

Paislee realized that she had hardly blinked, hardly breathed, all this time as Asha spoke, her eyes fixed on the woman's sparkling eyes and smiling lips. 

“I once found my way to a jungle village where all the houses were built up in the trees, all of them hanging together in the forest. The little ones would swing from one little platform to the other on the hanging vines. It was as though the entire village was a playground.”

Asha suddenly paused for a moment and closed her eyes. Paislee couldn’t quite hear it, but the lady was breathing a little harder. When Asha spoke again, her voice was ever so slightly more somber. 

“I once went to a ruined city, one where the stone buildings were all crumbling like ash. The people had all left and it was so quiet you could hear your own thoughts. It was at the edge of a cliff that overlooked the sea, and up there, even the sea seemed a blue gray. The sky would dim as if recognizing the sadness. I’d never been anywhere like that.” For half a moment, Asha looked away, but when she turned around again Paislee couldn’t see anything past the soft, if a little sad, smile Asha wore. 

“But Asha,” A little boy said, for he couldn’t make sense of why she would say such things. “Why would you tell of something so sad!” Asha gently brushed the boy’s arm and settled him down. 

“Oh, young one, you must learn that there is always beauty in the sad. For it is only with the sad that there is the happy. Without the darkness there can be no light and without tears there can be no joy. That city was one of many that had fallen, but in a way it was more magnificent than all the other places I had been.” 

“But why? Were the other places not pretty enough?” Blurted Paislee, who immediately then put her hands over her mouth in shame. For surely Asha would think less of her, Paislee thought, because of her question.

“Oh, no, sweetheart. The other places were each ravishing in their own way. But among the ruined you realize how blessed you are to just exist. In the quiet of that city you could hear your own heart beat with the fading breaths of the village that had once stood there. It is better to have fading breaths and a slowing beat than none at all. Always remember that, little one.” Paislee squealed a little bit when Asha tapped the little girl’s nose playfully and scooped her up. 

“Oh, yes, Asha! I’ll remember. Always, I promise!” And they laughed and giggled the afternoon away until the sun dimmed and the stars made their appearance once more. 

Now, Paislee was only one of the children who had fallen in love with Asha’s sweet voice and endearing stories. Each one left the meadow feeling their hearts renewed and replenished. Paislee herself felt that after speaking with Asha she would surely be able to fly for how high her heart soar. Indeed, her heart was light as a feather and bright as a star. 

Paislee went to the meadow every day after that. And when she couldn’t, she’d ask Lila if Asha had come the next day. Paislee never missed a story session, never forgot. She put each story and each place Asha spoke of on her heart and made sure to remember every word Asha spoke to her, for Paislee was ever so enchanted with the lady with the stories. Ever so charmed by the tenderhearted girl who spoke of the things she saw that no one else did. 

One day, when the leaves had browned and begun to fall off and the wind was more than just a breeze, Paislee showed up to the meadow and found all the children sitting somberly in a small, uneven circle. Immediately, her heart sunk in her chest and her steps dragged a little more. 

“What’s wrong?” Paislee whispered, sitting down next to Lilabeth. 

“Oh, Paislee!” Lila turned, wrapping her arms around Paislee and wailing into Paislee’s brown knit vest. Out of some instinct Paislee hugged the girl back. “It is Asha! One of the elders have told Tenner that Asha has fallen sick! Oh, and they don’t know if she will survive!” By now, Lila was crying big, fat tears. For a moment, Paislee stood shocked, her mouth drying up and her ears ringing. The news seemed to reverberate through her bones painfully. 

“They said that? They said Asha would not make it?” Paislee, too, was nearly in tears by now. For she could not imagine the village without Asha once more. The elders had told her that before Asha, Kautia'ar had been an austere place of monotony. She could not imagine her village once more turning into the steely, cold place it had once been. 

“Not quite, but it’s true! Oh, Paislee, how can this be?” Lila’s voice had become scratching, and Paislee knew that the girl had surely already cried a few times before. 

“I do not believe it, Lila. I won’t believe it until I see it with my own eyes!” For it made no sense to Paislee that a woman with so much life in her could ever lose it. 

“Then go, go see for yourself. She is in the healers hut, I’d suppose. The healers said she welcomed visitors.” Lila gave a quick sniffle before nodding Paislee off toward the village. 

“I think I will, Lila. Thank you.” She gave Lila one more quick hug and the meadow one last glance before taking off through the village on nimble feet. 

As the wind rushed through her hair and beat against her face, Paislee realized she had not ever thought of a day Asha would be gone. She could not even picture Kautia'ar without her. The mere thought of it chilled the child to her heart. 

Paislee slowed a little, the sharp gravel digging into her feet as she hurried up the creaky wooden stairs of the healer hut. 

“Hello? Adelaide?” Paislee heard a shuffle of steps and a murmuring voice before a petite woman with chestnut brown hair and warm amber eyes showed up. Paislee had met Adelaide a few times, one of the youngest nurses at the village's infirmary. She was tenderhearted and caring, if a little too quiet. Nonetheless, she had cared for Paislee when she’d sprained her ankles running down the stairs and nursed her back to health when sickness had struck the village a few winters back. 

“Oh, it is you. Hello, Paislee. Is there anything I can do for you?” Adelaide’s voice was soft, if a little raspy. Her eyes were a bit dim, dark purple bruises showing beneath them. 

“Adelaide,” Paislee squeaked, as she was quite a bit shocked and afraid for the young nurse. “Are you alright? Have you slept recently?” A sigh. 

“I am alright, Paislee. Do not worry for me. Now, what is it you have come for?” At that, remembrance jolted through Paislee and filled her with renewed urgency. 

“I am here to see Asha, for I have heard that she has fallen sick.” Adelaide closed her eyes faintly closed her eyes and let out a soft breath. 

”Of course. Come, I’ll bring you to her.” 

Paislee followed Adelaide down the warmly lit wooden halls as they passed through the healers hut. Most of the rooms were empty, a few with patients or nurses, but for the most part, empty. When they reached the last room, a few other maids trailed out of it, each drooping slightly. 

Without knowing it, Paislee held her breath. As she took tentative steps in, she squeezed her eyes shut and prayed that they had been wrong and she would walk into see Asha and she’d be alright and smiling. She’d walk in and everything would be alright and Asha would still be there. 

Everything was not, in fact, fine. 

Immediately, Paislee could tell something was off. The air hung in the air as though whatever had been holding it up had sagged too much. Everything in the room seemed too dim; even with the open windows one couldn’t manage to make it through the suffocating haze. It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the sudden gloom in the little room after walking through hallways with warmly lit candles. 

“Paislee?” It took her a moment to force herself to turn and look at the source of the voice because the owner of the voice could not be Asha. It was three notches too low and an infinitely sadder. Paislee forced herself to scurry over to the side of the bed where Asha laid, her once fair skin now pale and sickly, her shiny white hair now ashy. 

“Yes, yes, it’s me. Oh, Asha, are you alright?” Paislee sunk to her knees, clasping Asha’s cold hands in her own. 

“I am- alright.” The woman’s voice was breathy, as though she couldn’t get enough air into her lungs. Wetness pricked the edges of Paislee’s eyes and she didn’t know if she could handle it anymore. “It is good. I told you once, did I not, sweet one?” 

“Yes, yes, Asha, you did. ‘There is always beauty in the sad,’” Paislee still could not wrap her mind around what that statement could possibly mean, but Asha’s words seemed always to be right. Asha took another shaky breath that made Paislee’s chest hurt. 

“In a way, it is beautiful. I have come to Kautia'ar, have made it whole once more. And now I will return to Kautia'ar, its arms are waiting.” Asha reached out a hand to cup Paislee’s cheek. It was cold, too sharp for Asha’s affable nature. 

“I’ll never forget you,” Paislee whispered, as though a little secret between Asha and her.

“Never.”

Seven days later, Kausha'ra  passed away and returned to the arms of Kautia'ar. Three weeks later, the most ruthless of the winter season hit. Five months later, the meadows had all died and never seemed to grow back. One year later the village had fallen back to its monotony, the people had forgotten how to laugh, and all traces of Asha had died with her. 

Four years later, Paislee had forgotten the lady’s name and the sound of her voice. She couldn’t grasp the words from her stories, had forgotten the whisper of her touch. A few more and she was just another young woman in a sea of apathetic beings. 

Only one thing could she remember, though she did not know where she’d heard it or who had said it: It is better to have fading breaths and a slowing beat than none at all. 

In the end, Kautia'ar had loved and lost. It had grown and fallen, reached the stars and then fallen back to earth. And yet it stayed the same because Kautia'ar was just that: a blank, wrinkled paper. 

Kuatia arrugado - Guarani word for wrinkled paper