“A Leaping Ladybug” ACT I

A Leaping Ladybug

A God in the mud, and a dying man's vineyard. In a land that has long since died, there are still those who hold the belief that one act, no matter how simple, can bring either joy, or total domination. This is the story of their leaping ladybug, and how even the tiniest of creatures has the power to change everything about a world they once believed in.

I

"When they had me in the cells—”

“And thank The Gods you are home John. Isn't that enough?”

Silence. Then, he brushed back his hair with two filthy hands and sighed, “Not for me it isn't.”

She knew him well. Rebecca realized that it never was. 

John, always a preacher, had had ideas in the past on how the world was, now, after a vision, he truly understood it. And John believed he could make his love see what he saw.

“In the cells, I had a dream where I was once again close to somebody I love. You."

Rebecca, despite herself, despite this crazy request, smiled.

"And so intensely do I love you, that it was as if we had transcended to another level of existence. And in fact, we had. We were there, in that new world, when a man came into this very room. He told us that he had something he wanted to show you, my songbird. But that most of all, it was me, as a guide, who ought to pay very close attention. Because this is not just for me. It is for us.”

"But John," she stared down at her dusty feet. Though her heart sang, she still knew she was right. She would have to convince John that to cross The Safety Line was foolishness. It was dangerous. It was to risk everything they had secured. Though of course her answer would have to be firm in the end, she allowed her words at the moment to hold little conviction. Because she wanted to believe him. She too wanted what he wanted. To feel free to explore, if only for a day. "John. We can't.” Her words were little more than a breath.

"Rebecca,” his head hung low as he placed a palm on her knee, and gazed at her from beneath his brow. He knew her well. John could predict that this tactic, his touch, would help her hear him. Manipulating her, yes, though with good intention. He could provide her with fulfillment. “My songbird, may I finish?"

Her lover's touch, the essence of all that he was, never failed to convince her. So she placed her rough fingers across the top of his hand, and lovingly let them slide from side to side. Soothing. Supporting. And finally, nodding in agreement, she opened her ears to him.

Painting for the mind's eye is never easy, but John was never an easy man. So he laid the canvas of his dream out before her, and continued. "Well, this man, he then led us to a vineyard. One like those I have heard The Elders speak of, back when our land was still Sonoma. Back before any of this had ever come about. A land where we could eat grapes freely and forget that we are where we are. And as for myself? It was a place where I could forget that I am me for a little while."

John looked away from her, and Rebecca, knowing why he avoided her, and loving him as she did, let the tears in her own eyes begin to stake their claim as well.

"It was how I imagine a home would feel. A true home Rebecca.” John rose to his feet, his heavy boots barely making a sound, as each tender step brought him drearily to the window before him. Rebecca followed his lead, and they peeked beyond their tattered curtain together to see the day. To see that greyness was the only life they'd ever known.

“A true home,” John repeated, “Nothing like this. It was like the world before. Like the stories they speak of at the community fires.”

“But they are only stories John.”

“But what if they are more than just stories? In the dream, the man spoke of how he used to like sitting out in that vineyard. The fresh heat, a taste of clean air, the sweet hum of a bug's song. Those things brought to him a great comfort. Though his greatest comfort of all were the times he got to watch a ladybug crawl up his arm. He said that he'd allow them to tickle him all the way up to the tip of his finger. And from there, he’d watch them leap. The comfort, he explained, came from the feeling of liberation he’d experience every time he saw them fly.”

He turned towards the woman he so cherished. His songbird. Hoping only that he could reach her. Somehow showing her a better way at life. “Seeing their release brought the man so much closer to his own. My love, don't you understand?"

"Of course I understand.” And she did. For she also yearned for another land. A land that had once been real, that is, according to The Elders. But Rebecca was scared. She couldn't remember a time before The Safety Line. In this world, her world, vineyards had never existed. They were only legends. However, she herself had an imagination, and she wondered now. What would these grapes taste like? What would it be like to pull one from its vine? The tension, and then, its release as she held it delicately. How would that feel? “I understand you John."

"My songbird, this couldn't have just been a dream.” A smile broke from his lips. A finger twitched. A gleam, as bright as a star, began to shine in his eyes. “It must have been a message. Maybe even from The Gods themselves. You see-”

“Oh John. You sweet man.” Her cheek rested on his shoulder. She wanted to comfort him, but she feared that to do so may hurt him. The Elders warned of the dangers beyond The Line. “It is just a dream.”

“No Rebecca. No. The man told me that back then, he had had the time to imagine things. Just little fantasies, like his fingers being blades of grass; his body the root that connected him to all of the Earth. He said it was 'organic'. Then he laughed Rebecca! You remember real laughter don't you? True, uncontrollable laughter? It makes you hurt, but in a good way.”

Her lip trembled and she pinched her skirt as she sat back onto their mat. She could no longer bear to see the outside. So, she studied their shack, only to see the same greyness here too. There was no denying their hopelessness. Laughter, she thought, true laughter? Has it really been so long since they've laughed? It must have been, because the memory was a ghost. Though it was there, and she remembered it now as music.

John sat down beside her, lost in his own thoughts as well. Please, whatever God is listening to this prayer, please let her hear me out. “Don't you remember?”

She finally looked back at him. “Yes. I remember.”

“Well thank The Gods for that, because I actually heard it. And Rebecca, when I saw him smile? I realized he was beautiful. This man, he was an angel, he had to be because he was radiant. He was raw authenticity. He showed me what honesty expressed from one man to another looked like, without fear of rejection. Then he told us, you and me, that in that vineyard he had almost felt real!”

Those words hung in the air for a time, as if searching for the realness and truth themselves. But finding nothing, John went on.

“Then I watched his smile wilt along with the dying vineyard that surrounded us. He said things changed. He had grown old. And as he did, the man said that he had noticed himself trading in his dreams for a sense of assurance and a chance at stability. However, he had since learned that the only assurance life grants a man, to any of us, is that nothing is ever truly assured, and that stability only lasts a moment in the winds of time."

Sure, perhaps John was right. Maybe their safety would only last a moment. Her hands clenched as if grasping the moment for as long as she possibly could. The sudden tightness of her small frame was unmistakable, and John wrapped an arm around her waist.

"Rebecca, we have survived for so long, but I fear we don't truly live."

She bounced up suddenly, skirt and golden hair twirling as she spun towards him, the blood boiling as it rose to her neck. And when she grabbed his collar John worried she would tear his only shirt. "I 'live' when I have you! You John.” The windows of her soul burned with intensity. The intensity faltered. And slipped. “Though you can be such an impulsive fool.”

He playfully shook his head in defiance, and flashed her the best “disarming" smile that he could. "My songbird.” he raised a finger and let it wag, “do not mistake my faith for impulsiveness. I have faith in us. And isn't faith so important to exercise? You always say so yourself. We can do this.”

A thought. A beat of her heart. A smile back. But no response.

John guided her fingers away from his collar, "This man said that then, as he was aging, he saw more and more with each passing day that the trade was never worth it. He didn't want stability. What he wanted was another chance to dream again. He often wondered, 'What if? What if I had been brave?' Though to this he’d never have an answer. It was a regret that weighed heavy on his soul. He told us that he had never again been happy in such a way as he was on those sunny days when he had felt real. Those days long since passed, when his dreams were more than mere fantasy, but ambition, and he was as free as a leaping ladybug. We can do this.”

Her eyes glanced up, her head still, and she bit her finger tip. A grin appeared while she considered the thought. To explore? To play with her friend and the love of her life somewhere new? Rebecca was beautiful. Then she looked down at John and asked, “But what of the dangers of the Outer Realm?”

John's chest swelled like that of a frog protecting his territory, “I'd be there to protect you.”

“Why thank you sir.” She curtsied then patted his head. “But John, we don't know what's out there.”

“Oh, there's nothing out there. The Elders have never crossed The Safety Line either. No one in East Point has! Everybody here is like the old man in the vision. They're trading in their dreams for security. But think about it my love. Would a flimsy string stop dangers from coming in here and getting us? I don't think so. The Elders are just scared, but I am not. I'm almost twenty one now and can defend myself. Besides, I'm tired of working for silver scraps and bread.”

“Yes. I am too.” Rebecca's eyes widened as she soaked all of this in. Sitting down again to catch a breath, she slowly turned her head. Eyes continuing to bulge. Her face stretched so far it threatened to snap off. 

John was shocked, “Stop that Rebecca. You're scaring me.”

Staring. Staring. Staring!

“I - I'm sorry John. It's just - that you may be right. How could a string border keep out dangers? And it's true that The Elders fear The Outer Realms more than any of us. And they've never even been out there! Do you truly believe the world of our legends could be so close? Just beyond The Safety Line?”

“Yep, I do. And grapes too. Our bellies would burst, our pockets would overflow with surplus. Not to mention, I am personally willing to hand feed them to you myself. Tonight. Right here on this mat.” The time to decide was now, and John believed that he had her hooked right where he wanted her. He took her by the hands and they stood, “I don't want to grow old and grey, only to regret the life that I have lived. Will you come with me, my love?”

Silence. Never more so than in this moment had John realized just how loud the wind through the walls of their shack truly was.

He spoke softly, “I need you Rebecca”. He loved her.

And never more so than in this moment, as she only stared, had John ever experienced time stop. And then… she smiled mischievously as her eyes lit up. She grabbed his hands, floated to the tips of her toes, and kissed his nose.

"Only if you keep that big mouth of yours at an indoor voice. And I mean it John. The entire time.”

He swore it to her, and she kissed him again. The softness of her lip assured him of all that he wanted. To see the hills. And all that he needed. For her to see them too. Together they would see, but just a glimpse, of what it feels like to truly live.