MIKI AND THE MAGIC LIGHT501Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2pCFDK9BKd
A Kid's Adventure Based on Inuit Myth
Story By Jack Steele501Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1Noa0tVIQ1
There was a village the Eskimos left behind, all but a daddy, his daughter, and their husky. Little Miki soon had to bury her daddy. She found herself alone with only Yura to play with. Her townspeople had crossed the brutal tundra to work in the fishing industry as they promised their children one day they would return.
They never came back. This took Miki years until she knew. She was forgotten for good. I was forgotten so easily, she thought. Because she was sad and lonely, from staying put, Miki became sick. She coughed fits until her stomach hurt. Her hands did not grip as strongly as they did before. She cared less. Finally she stopped doing her favorite things to do: throat-singing and kayaking.501Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2R0ddg886m
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Miki slept all the time. All day and all night. She stopped talking and running, which saddened her husky Yura who mourned her loudly like they mourned her daddy. Her dog moaned and howled, crying and pawing at her long black hair. That saddened her even more. Still, they loved each other and were inseparable.
This became their humdrum life.
One windy night, the reddish-green aurora floating in the sky fell. It slammed down and struck the horizon, magical and bright just like city lights. She remembered how her daddy and her townspeople used to argue. The magic light was supposed as evil spirits, but her daddy told her it was a good spirit. It was the Maker that made this world.
Yura watched it glow too, ever so curious. Miki stayed put. Every day and every night. She became sicker and sicker, bone thin. Yura cried and cried until one morning Miki made up her mind. It was time. The village was dead, and now was the time to leave.
“Let’s go,” said Miki to her sled dog. “And don’t look back.”
Just like Yura, she was curious of the fallen aurora. Was it evil or was it rather good?
Being too sick to run and nearly weightless, she rode the sled that Yura mightily pulled across the ice. Then without thinking Miki looked back. The village was gone. She searched high and low. It was nowhere to be seen. This terrified her so how it was too late.
The day was bright and early. It was a blinding day, and all was a whiteout storm. All Miki and Yura could see were drifts of ice crystals. Sometimes this made gusty shadows. She looked the skies for ravens and found none. She didn’t understand. What were they?
Whatever they were, the shadows were real, hovering on the ground. They got larger and closer no matter how loudly Miki made kissing sounds to get Yura to hike faster.
But her dog still could not outrun them!
Snow demons, it occurred to Miki the moment the sled flipped.
When she fell, her hair was yanked back in raking claws and stuck together with frosted breaths. The snow demons circled and circled and surrounded them. Their open hundred mouths stretched and screamed at Miki and Yura with freezing fury.
Yura’s jaws snapped savagely at the snow demons. That did not stop them. The evil spirits were as sharp, unseen, and unstoppable as a blizzard. The ghosts tore at her scrunched eyes and nose. Her lips were chapped purple. She blinked and gasped. She still couldn’t see nor breathe. Miki guessed that she would die very soon.
Yura sensed the same.
Her dog bit the collar of her sealskin coat and dragged her away through the snow. It was no use, Miki wanted to shout. Run. She coughed too weakly to make a sound. Her eyes fell heavy, fighting to stay open. Save yourself, she thought.
Miki woke up at the entry of the nearest cave where the storm was unable to chase them. Inside, she and Yura were happily safe. Their eerie screams faded to a low murmur. Then the snow demons had long gone.
“Wow,” Miki told Yura. “That was close.”
She looked around the cave when she numbly started a small fire. These weird walls of ice glowed with teal sunshine and orange firelight. Yura’s thick fur dug into her. Miki felt thankful and warmer already.
Together, they cuddled and rested just enough.
From her satchel she kept on her, Miki unpacked seal meat to cook and salt. Yura licked her fangs with zeal. The juicy smoke smelled so good! Then Miki heard enormous growling that she had to coo at her dog to calm down.
“Yes, yes, soon,” said Miki. “The meat has to be fully done.”
Crueller growls came this time, confusing her to glance up. Her dog was not that ferocious. Yura stood on all four paws between her and a polar bear! ROARR!!! The cave thrummed her with body chills.
Yura barked, snarling warnings at it.
The polar bear stood on its hind legs, rising up nine, ten, and finally eleven feet tall. His beady eyes were as black as shark eyes. His monstrous mangled teeth were reddish-brown from all its meals.
Miki had to be slow getting on her feet. She shrank and hid behind the small fire. But she did not know what to do.
ROARR!!! The bear deafened the cave again with thunderous echoes.
The husky leapt at the bear, tackling him backwards with her paws.
“Yura, no!” Miki watched on in horror as they tussled farther and deeper into the dark. Roars and slashes rumbled from the darkness. She couldn’t just do nothing. She decided she’d be brave just like Yura.
Yura saved her so she would save Yura too. She lit a branch on fire, making a torch. With the other hand, she grabbed a rock larger than her fist. Miki approached the danger anyway.
She watched Yura run around the polar bear near a cliff, snapping at his ankles where his jaws and claws can’t reach her. If Yura wasn’t careful, she could fall! Miki was scared but she saw an opportunity. Now was the best time to stone the bear’s face.
She threw the rock as hard as she could. It struck him hard between the eyes. The bear shook his head, woozy with a bad headache. This time, she got his attention. Oops, Miki thought.
Angered, the bear charged for her. She wildly swung the fire into his face. The bear swatted it away and let out another roar. Yura leapt onto his back, biting hard into his neck. It happened so fast that the bear jerked and they rolled off the cliff.
Thud. Miki cried out at that dull sound.
She never wanted to bury Yura. I didn’t think that this day would come, Miki thought weeping.
Suddenly she heard Yura whimper too.
Huh! She looked over the cliff. Snowflakes scattered. Down below, she saw a ledge where the bear and her dog fell. The bear took most of the impact from the sharp rocks, and Yura was still alive on top of the bear. Oh thank the Maker, thank the Maker! Her dog had lived.
Miki cringed when she saw Yura’s bleeding leg. “Oh no.” She climbed down and hugged her dog so tightly. Yura cried, and Miki shushed her, “It’ll be okay! I can fix it.”
She cut through the polar bear’s tough hide and made a strip to band around Yura’s leg. That stopped the bleeding but Yura still shivered so! Miki had to bring her the seal meat and spoon-fed her. “You’re okay!”
Together, they cuddled and rested just enough.
The teal sunshine faded, darkening these weird walls of ice. Nightfall came. This began to worry Miki as she cut up and salted the polar bear meat. How long will be we stuck here? The nearby deep chasm rumbled sometimes with updrafts.
Miki noticed a long rope that was tethered from one side to another. People had left it there. It swung from the rising wind but it seemed strong enough to stay put. She decided it was possible to make it across, no matter how sick she felt or how long that took, and she would carry Yura with her.
She practiced squeezing her hands until they felt strong enough. She did not cough either, so that was good news. Miki gazed down the bottomless pit and got so afraid from the darkness beneath. She promised she would never ever look down.
Miki packed the satchel with the meat and strapped it to Yura. She made a net from the polar bear’s hide where Yura would lie in and strapped it to herself. Miki crossed legs and gripped hands around the rope, her back to the chasm. The occasional wind rustled their hair.
“Let’s go…” she told Yura. “And never look down.”
But by the time they left the cliff, her plan already failed.
Yura fidgeted too much in the net, too afraid of dangling over the depths, and pulled down Miki’s hands. This upset her who said, “Stop, Yura! I’m slipping!”
Her dog never stopped scratching and whining. The net rustled too violently, putting much weight on Miki’s sweaty slipping fingers.
She sobbed to herself, crying out to her daddy and then to her mommy until she remembered.
Long ago, when her daddy left town hunting with the men, Miki would spend her days with the women and their children. Since she was motherless, the women took it upon themselves to raise her right. They taught her katajjaq. Throat-singing, her favorite thing to do.
Miki panted and chanted huskily. Yura listened and lied still.
One hand after another with locked ankles, she pulled them across the rope inch by inch. The updrafts swung the rope, so she clung on tight. They swung from side to side. When it was over, Miki continued to groan measuredly as Yura moaned with her.
This made her grin widely, instilled with heart-pounding hope. Her throat-singing’s working!
Their loud rhythmic breaths calmed Yura at last. Her eyes closed as she went to sleep. They crossed the windy chasm to the other cliff where they finally touched ground.
Miki lied out flat on her back and let Yura out of the net, laughing at what they had done. Who knew that such a game could take them this far? Thank the Maker, Miki thought. Oh thank the Maker!
She realized she was no longer sick. She did not cough anymore. Her hands and arms were stronger. I have transformed, Miki thought gladly.
She saw that there were many, many tunnels and took some time to figure out which path was best to take. That time was cut short when pebbles scattered down from above. She flinched once a giant boulder crashed down the side of the cliff. The cave began to shake her off one foot. It’s collapsing on them!
Miki shouted, “Yura, run!”
She charged ahead through one tunnel, dodging rocks in the cascading dust as best as she could. She could hear her own quick footsteps but not Yura’s. Peering over her shoulder, she saw her worst fear; her dog was nowhere to be seen. The dust storm flushed Miki out of the tunnel. She crawled outside onto an ice cliff under the grand canvas of stars.
Yura’s injured leg was all she could think about. There was no time for her to recover. Of course. Miki felt heart-torn. Did I leave her behind?
“Yura!” She screamed her name.
Then, in response, there was a distant howl.
Miki looked beyond the great divide of the ice cliffs. A mile away, Yura ran along the side howling and barking. She cried, laughing with relief.
“You made it!” Miki shouted.
They playfully loped, tracking each other, heading towards the much closer and radiant aurora. They were nearly there.
The magic light gleamed in tendrils as if it was alive on the other side of a conjoined mountain. They frolicked and pranced under the shooting stars. Miki felt so uplifted she could just fly.
This went on for an hour before they were tired and they would walk the rest of the way. Miki had time to wonder about the fallen aurora that awaited them. Was it evil? Or was it rather good, the Maker of this made world?
But daddy, she asked, why would the Maker make snow demons, carnivores, and all kinds of danger?
This made her worry what they would find.
Suddenly, a chorus of howls took Miki from her thoughts.
Yura shrank and bowed down when a pack of wolves ran at her and circled her. Miki watched helplessly, stuck on the other side of the great divide. Oh no, the meat… They’re in the satchel strapped to Yura’s body.
A massive alpha male advanced and snarled at Yura. Being a tame dog, she surrendered, lying flat across the ice. She exposed her belly and licked at the air. The pack of wolves remained still.
Miki shivered at the silence. They took their time closing in on Yura, but they did not harm her. They sniffed the seal and bear meat.
The alpha male wolf nudged his nose at Yura. Roughly but playfully.
Miki sighed with relief when the pack welcomed her with another chorus of howls. A chill trickled down her back. The wolves left, one by one, loping through the snow.
Yura gazed back at Miki. They share a profound look for what seemed like the longest time. Miki’s eyes stung and filled with tears. It was hard to breathe. Her heart felt like it was breaking in a million piece so she could only wave, whispering goodbye.
As expected, Yura ran after her new family, leaving her behind.
Miki knelt down and wept.
When she was ready, she looked up at the great mountain. It glowed with a multitude of colors. From rose gold to sea green, it lit up a tree that should have never been there. A magical tree in the vast alpine tundra. Having nothing left, Miki resolved to climb up that mountain by herself.
Miki reached the top of the world and found the fallen aurora.
The aurora was a tiny speck of a rainbow star. It blinked weakly and as much as it tried to fly, it landed back down. When it learned it was not alone, the magic light turned to face Miki.
She saw a saddened child-like face.
“Are you the Maker?” Miki asked.
“Yes, I am,” replied the Maker. “If you come with a wish, I cannot grant it. I am sorry. I have little power left.”
She said nothing, realizing she did come with many wishes. But that mattered little now. Ever so curious, she asked, “What happened to you?”
Surprised at this, the Maker explained, “By making the world, too much of my power was given away. I have little left to fly. Now and then, when I am too tired, I return here to rest.”
“Oh,” said Miki, understanding. “You’re neither good nor evil. You are spirit. Like the world you’ve made, you are power and you are rest.”
The Maker, so inspired by Miki, thanked her for the reminder. It burned brighter and hotter until it exploded with a pop, soaring through the skies. The aurora returned to where it perfectly belonged. She watched it lovingly so, with tears streaming down her face.
Saddened by losing everyone she’s ever loved, Miki chopped up the magical tree. To her astonishment, the rainbow wood floated off the ground. At this, she decided she would carve a qayaq that would fly. She anchored it as she sculpted and whittled away. When she was done, she admired the creation shining before her.
The rainbow kayak was ready to set sail. She hopped in and cut the anchor. The dawn came, brightening the clouds gloriously with its white gold fire. She flew away from the mountain, looking down at the made world. Miki spotted Yura running with the wolves, and Yura saw her.
The pack of wolves shared a sonorous howl at the rainbow kayak.
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Miki waved with great spirit and smiled.501Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡImd96kMyHY
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“Run!” She cried. “Run, Yura! You’re free!”
