The Light in Aquala

The inside of the old woman's hut smelled of dried herbs, beeswax and fresh fruits.

The morning sun was coming through the windows and the rays of light moved gently across the walls.

It was a simple but comfortable home: a thick sleeping mat rolled against the wall, a small table and two chairs, a row of baskets on the shelf, the small carved figures on the windowsills that the village children had made for her over the years.

It was a small hut, but it was full of things that mattered.

The old woman crouched by a chest and lifted a small wooden box hidden beneath a large, colorful, folded blanket. The ancient wood was dark and smoothed by handling, and the cord around it had been retied so many times that it had gone fuzzy along its length. She pressed it into Mara's hands carefully and gently.

"Take it. It was meant to be given to someone with the Neon if the lights returned."

Mara gently grasped it and slowly walked over and sat down at the table. The old woman stood opposite her, with her mother standing to the side. As Mara opened it carefully, the lid resisted at first but then gave way with a soft crack of old wood. Inside were folded sheets of a material that was not paper. They were thin and slightly cool to the touch, with a faint sheen to them.

When she lifted the top sheet, she noticed quite a few sheets below it with numerous markings on them. She lifted the sheets one by one and laid them out on the table in the rays of morning light.

The markings on them were not all handwriting, some were patterns and some sort of code with unusual characters.

Rows of lines and dots arranged in sequences, some grouped in threes, some spaced at intervals that matched the clicking rhythm still coming from the jungle. The dots were small and careful and the lines were straight and even.

Mara could see that whoever had made them had been patient and precise. She ran her finger along the row of dots; Three, pause, three. The same count Tavi had made from the beach. The same count the clicking noise was making.

Near the bottom of the stack was a single sheet with a carefully sketched drawing of Aquala. The waterfall was rendered in fine dark lines, and beside it a sketch of a column of light with separate bands running through it. Blue at the center with silver and gold metallic colors that seemed to be turning around it.

In the margin someone had written a single word in a script Mara could not read, and they had underlined it twice.

She held the sheet up to the sunbeam. The material was so thin that the light came through it, and the drawing seemed to float. The column of light, the Aquala waterfall and the rows of dots all hanging in the air.

She thought of the light at Aquala, the light far off in the ocean and the patterns she discovered on their trek. Mara felt her stomach starting to settle at last, now that some of her theories had been confirmed.

"This is a record of measurements," she said. "Not a story. Someone stood right where we were standing at Aquala, and wrote down what they saw. It was exactly what we saw too."

The old woman sat down across from her now, slow and careful, and folded her hands in her lap. She coughed loudly, her lungs trying to clear the age from her body. She sipped at the mug of water that Mara's mother handed to her, a look of concern for the old woman on her face.

"Two of my ancestors had the Neon. One went to Aquala and the other went to the light in the ocean. Both of them came home a couple of days later and were not harmed. They told the family they had seen these big lights and that there were people who had the Neon and spoke to them. They showed where the lights led."

The old woman coughed again, clearing her throat, as Mara looked up at her, then she continued.

"Neither of them chose to go with those that had the Neon. They both came home and lived long lives but left this record behind so that whoever came next would know what to expect. My mother told me it was never meant to stay with us, but we must be on the watch for when the lights arrive again. Then we must immediately give it to those with the Neon. I never fully understood what she meant until tonight."

Mara lifted the sheets carefully and placed them back in the box. The lid closed with the same soft crack. She held the box against her side and stood up, thanking the woman.

Before she left the hut, she pulled her instrument from her belt and held it near the open door, letting it read the air for a moment. The lines on the display pulsed in the same rhythm as the clicking. She tucked it away again and stepped outside.

"Thank you, this changes things." Mara said, as she gently helped the old woman down out of her doorway onto the sand.

"I know." answered the old woman with a weariness in her voice. She was obviously tired but had a look of determination on her face.

Together with Mara’s Mother, they walked away from the hut together. The clicking sound continued and when they looked up above the canopy, the lights were still there, all in a line and glowing.

Waiting.