Dante's Heart
The Boy With White Hair
When he woke, the basket that he had carried his mother in was at his feet,
broken and empty. He rose and lost himself in the hillsides.
Eventually, he found a pool of water near the base of a tree. He had a great
thirst, so he leaned forward to quench himself. Bumping into the tree, the torn
basket that he’d strapped to his back was too large to allow him to drink, so he
removed it. And then, in his hunger and exhaustion, he fell into the water, and
sank deeper and deeper, slowly, as if into a dream. The water was silent and
dark, just as the cave had been. He flung his arms about, hoping to find the
roots of the tree, to swim to the surface, but the water held him, slowing his
movements until finally, he was still.
At this moment, a boy with strange white hair who had been following the man
since the morning after the storm came upon the basket. He looked for the man,
and when the boy noticed the bubbling water, reached his hand inside and felt
the man’s head. He tugged on the man’s long, black hair, and raised him up. The
boy yelled and the man gulped for air, waking himself from the dream he’d been
having of his mother. With the boy’s help, he climbed from the pool. The boy
gathered wood and built a fire while the man rested, and the boy sang stories
that wove their way around the man’s dreams.
In the morning, the man woke to find his hair shorn, cut in the old way of mourning
the dead, his basket mended and full of nuts and berries and a blanket. The boy
was gone. When the man searched the remains of the fire, he found tendrils of
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When he woke, the basket that he had carried his mother in was at his feet,
broken and empty. He rose and lost himself in the hillsides.
Eventually, he found a pool of water near the base of a tree. He had a great
thirst, so he leaned forward to quench himself. Bumping into the tree, the torn
basket that he’d strapped to his back was too large to allow him to drink, so he
removed it. And then, in his hunger and exhaustion, he fell into the water, and
sank deeper and deeper, slowly, as if into a dream. The water was silent and
dark, just as the cave had been. He flung his arms about, hoping to find the
roots of the tree, to swim to the surface, but the water held him, slowing his
movements until finally, he was still.
At this moment, a boy with strange white hair who had been following the man
since the morning after the storm came upon the basket. He looked for the man,
and when the boy noticed the bubbling water, reached his hand inside and felt
the man’s head. He tugged on the man’s long, black hair, and raised him up. The
boy yelled and the man gulped for air, waking himself from the dream he’d been
having of his mother. With the boy’s help, he climbed from the pool. The boy
gathered wood and built a fire while the man rested, and the boy sang stories
that wove their way around the man’s dreams.
In the morning, the man woke to find his hair shorn, cut in the old way of mourning
the dead, his basket mended and full of nuts and berries and a blanket. The boy
was gone. When the man searched the remains of the fire, he found tendrils of
Page 1 Page 2 Page 3
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