Going Home: Part 1
Sometimes you just know
Welcome to my little corner of the internet! I’m so glad you’re here. Below you’ll find part one of my fantasy short story Going Home. It’s about a young girl named Nani who gets tangled up in fate, tradition, and a giant hole in the ground that leads… somewhere else.
Find the rest of the chapters plus all of my other fiction here:
“Since it is so likely that children will meet cruel enemies, let them at least have heard of brave knights and heroic courage.”
― C.S. Lewis
There was once, long ago, a hole in the middle of the world.
The locals called it N’Uata, which means The Hungry One.
It was deep. Deep as an idea. It was dark. Dark as the bottom of the sea.
It was wide…but not too wide. If you were to squint, in the middle of a sun-soaked day, you could have seen from one edge to the other, if only just barely.
But this story is not only about the hole. Not truly. N’Uata was a cold, impersonal thing. Our story is about life and warmth. About the truth within tradition. So instead, we must change our focus.
So instead, we must begin again.
There was once, long ago, a girl, too young to marry but too old to be sung to sleep, who sat with her legs dangling over the side of the hole.
Her name was Nani, which means Dreamer.
Nani hummed quietly to herself, her sandaled feet gently keeping time against the wall of the hole. She sat for a long while, waiting, accompanied only by her song and the calming warmth of the sun. No echo greeted her from within The Hungry One. It was too deep for that.
She couldn’t have told you what she waited for, at least not with words. It was not a knowing so much as a feeling, the way you can guess that it’s going to rain by the smell in the air. It could have been a slight gust of wind, or the subtle, suggested shape of a passing cloud overhead. That was the way of things. You didn’t know until you knew.
Eventually, Nani knew. She knew it in her bones, knew it in the same way that she knew she would see the sun again when it sank down to sleep each night. In some ways, she had known her whole life. Nani stood then, slowly, careful to not snag her dress against the slightly jagged edge of the hole. She blew a rogue strand of coal-black hair away from her eyes, dusting her hands off on her knees as she did so. The motions were smooth, practiced, but her heart fluttered with a mix of fear and excitement.
In one week’s time she would come back here for a final visit. She would jump, a raindrop falling into the sea. N’Uata had requested her as his next sacrifice. It was the highest honor that could be bestowed amongst her people: a single female sacrifice each year, true of heart and flush with courage, chosen by The Hungry One. The loss of one would save many.
She would fall and she would fly, perhaps forever.
Nani turned toward her village and began to walk down the dusty path, eager to share the good news with her family.
Suggested music for Part 1: At The Bottom of Everything by Bright Eyes
Keep reading! Part 2 is ready, for you!
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What I love about this is the strength of the writing voice. You are assured in your words, in the sentence structure and rhythm. And, you dog, you have sucked me in, made me interested, compelled me to read the next part. All things good. All things a writer should do.
My only quibble is your music choice. I listened to only a few bars and was quite surprised; to me it did not fit the tone and melody you were creating. But, alas, I can choose to not listen to it, so it's not a quibble at all!
Nicely done. And now, to Part II
I came across your publication in Notes and am so happy I decided to give this story a go!! I’m hooked. I love how you told the story of the hole, and then we must begin again, and the story begin-begins. Looking forward to reading part two!