Clear Sky Valley
She was flying.
Flying so high she couldn’t tell forest from field, river from road, she couldn’t tell
land from sea. There were no clouds in sight. Not one.
The sky was clear and blue.
A crystal dome that never touched the ground.
There were no birds, either.
Just her, flying through peaceful skies with the ground far below her.
She couldn’t see what was on the ground from up here —but somehow she knew
— She knew there was no one down there.
Just her in this world, no animals or people.
Just her.
She should have been afraid, but she wasn’t.
She didn’t feel alone, but she knew she should. Her wings failed her.
She couldn’t feel the air rushing by her as she fell; there was no wind here.
She didn’t mind.
She didn’t think.
She just felt a sense of weightlessness take her.
Her wing feathers ruffled uselessly as she fell.
She just stared up into the clear blue sky.
She could hear the sharp cry of a bird of prey, but she couldn't see it.
She only heard and saw the world of Clear Sky Valley.
That was its name.
She didn’t know how she knew; she just did.
It was the cry of a bird unlike any other, clearer than an eagle’s,
more musical, sad and happy all at once.
The cry of the bird was alone in the world, cutting through the air like a knife,
but sharper and clearer.
She didn’t look at the ground. She didn’t care that it was there.
She did know it was close now, rushing up to meet her as she fell.
But she never hit the ground.
She rushed down, and before she knew what was going on, she fell right through it.
It was like suddenly being plunged into icy water, and then it was gone.
The ground was not above her, or even below her.
It was gone the moment she went through it.
The bird’s song was still there all the while.
She felt like she was half on fire and half the opposite.
She knew she wasn’t.
And it didn’t feel all that bad.
“What is your name?”
It was the first thought that had occurred to her here.
It felt like the first thing she had ever wanted to know.
The bird’s cry formed into words, more clear, sharp and musical
than any other sound that could ever be.
It made her own voice sound dull.
She was still falling, but she still didn’t care.
Now she saw it. The bird was still singing, but she could see it now.
It continued to sing, its clear song ringing through the space
like the echo in a tunnel.
The bird’s feathers were bright, flaming orange.
So bright it looked like the sun, but she could still look at it.
It didn’t hurt her eyes.
Its wings were somehow brighter still.
It had a golden beak, and its talons were the same pale gold.
It had two long tail-fathers, each one tipped with bright, fiery feathers.
She continued to fall. Something else was falling with her.
Bright white petals drifted around her, with touches of pale gold and pink as well.
The petals were glowing.
Nothing compared to the bird —the phoenix, she realized. It was a phoenix.
The bird let out one last clear, sharp cry.
—And then it vanished.
Everything vanished: the clear sky, the bird, the flower petals, the wings, all of it.
She looked up. She was sitting against the tree she had fallen asleep under.
The sun here looked dimmer than before.
It was lower in the sky, too.
There were mountains to the north, towering high, yet no snow covered their tops.
They were green all the way up.
There were sheep all over the meadow.
A small, pure white little lamb was sleeping beside her, its small head on her arm.
To the south, there was a white city; westward, there was a large forest,
and just on the horizon to the east, the hills seemed to turn white,
and a bright light was coming from that direction.
She knew the white couldn’t snow.
It was a field of lilies so white they seemed to glow.
Some were gold, others the lightest pink.
She looked at that place for a long while, drawn by the lily’s soft glow.
She turned and looked down at the sheep that she knew she should be watching.
She closed her eyes and shook her head.
She decided she would see the land of Clear Sky Valley another day.
She never came back to that land in all her life,
though she spent quite a bit of her time looking to the white horizon where the sun rose.