Within every basket resides the ingredients necessary to create a meal fit for the body and healthy to keep one moving on throughout the day. Yet the soul continues to endure many hardships, as each decision made ignores its presence, and discards the aftermath that soon follows. As you carry and protect that which is precious to you, so should the same be for your inner being. For a shattered spirit is not so easily mended and a soul that has been battered recovers slowly.
The yellow palm trees grow taller as the years go by and our seas shine ever so brighter on the tiny island of Tala Marla. Our Gumbo fruits dangle about with an orange coating waiting patiently to be grabbed in hopes to refresh the soul. Meditation is a common practice here which helps to strengthen our bones, while also revitalising both the body and the mind. Yet, despite the many things we do to retain our smiles, we remain a cursed tribe, through the things we choose to part take in and the hardships we force ourselves to endure.
We’ve taught our daughters and our sons the art of keeping their souls bound to this island, an act birthed after a contract was signed generations ago in hopes to keep the island in its youth and never be forgotten. Though we elders fear the day when one of these fair children will awaken to this horrid truth, and soil the agreement that has kept us alive for decades.
I am an old woman who has forgotten her name. On this island I am known as Aunt Mamba, the giver and teller of stories. I’ve seen many faces arrive here with strong dreams resting in their hearts and hoping to take those wishes across the whole world. Then, their eyes fall into slumber as if hypnotised, and they never wish to leave this beautiful place, but rather become like us who enjoy the sands warmth and the voice of the sea.
Dreams bind us to paths we know nothing about, though maybe one day a little one may just change my old wrinkled heart.
© Panda Tales Animation
Posted in: short stories