Adam Lost, part I

When his hair got too long and tufty, he would cut it with the sharpstone and send the clumps of fuzz flying out into the trees for the birds to use in their nests.  He liked to imagine them bedding down in it, making use of something he didn’t need. He rarely saw the birds because it was dark in the trees, but he heard them, singing and twittering above him, and that made him feel happy.

When the sharpstone grew too blunt, he would strike it against another stone until it was sharp and dangerous again. It was a life of small things and small means of keeping himself from falling asleep forever.

When he was lonely, he talked to Monkey. Monkey was small and squat and hairy and had a long tail and sometimes he didn’t come back for days. But when Monkey came back, he would be happy and feel safe again. He could look at the brightwater and see the doubleface staring back at him and not start back in fear.

He had to look at the brightwater to cut his facehair because otherwise, he would cut his skin with the sharpstone and there would be blood.

Blood frightened him, but sometimes, he wondered whether he might not use the sharpstone to cut his throat and go to sleep forever. He was so hungry so much of the time and the little animals he caught and killed with the sharpstone were tough and tasteless to eat. It was a life of small things and sometimes, sleeping forever seemed better.

At night, he dreamed of the before time when he had a mother and a father and a girl they called his sister. She was pretty and small and she followed him wherever he went but he couldn’t remember her name. It was such a long time ago, the before time. He tried hard to remember the time before the before time, but it was hard and the pictures were all blurred and strange.

There was something that happened in the time before the before time. There was something that made his mother and his father and the girl they called his sister disappear. It was something awful and big and it made all the walls and the houses and the streets fall away.

In his place among the trees, where he lived with Monkey when Monkey came back, he could see some of the old things, beneath the leaves and the vines. They had names, the tall grey stones and the smooth clear notstones, but he couldn’t remember. There was no one to talk to except Monkey and Monkey didn’t say anything.

Many years must have passed since the before time, or so he imagined, because his skin had grown brown and hard and it wasn’t the same when he lay down because he felt the sharp sticks and stones beneath his body. His facehair and the other hair were still brown though and he remembered the old people turned grey like the stones.

There was no way to mark the passing of time, but he knew when the sun was high because it was hot and he had to keep to the shade of the trees. It was hot most of the time but sometimes, the rain would come and he would feel peaceful. It was cool and sweet and he could hear it softly falling on the leaves and it made things fresh again.