Free Resurrecting Ravana by Ray Garton

Rama is one of the many incarnations of Vishnu, a very heroic god who saved Sita, his wife and the daughter of King Janaka, from the powerful demon Ravana.”
    “Sounds like the Hindu religion has a big cast.”
    “An enormous cast.”
    Willow liked the statue of Rama even more than the first, partly because it looked like a normal man, slender, with muscular arms, standing with both fists in the air, eyes turned upward, victorious. He stood in a very intricately carved archway on a round, flat base.
    Next on the sideboard were four elephants, a large one leading three small ones.
    “Elephants are sacred in the Hindu religion,” Mila said, “so they are the subject of a great deal of our art.”
    “Did your brother paint the pictures, too?”
    “No. He tried painting for a while, but he was really quite dreadful. Everyone advised him to stick with sculpting.”
    The bell rang, echoing in the hall outside the office.
    Mila glanced at her watch and said, “I’m afraid I have an appointment now, Willow. I hope you feel better than you did earlier.”
    “Oh, I do, Mila. Thanks for talking. I really appreciate it.”
    “You’re welcome in my office anytime. I hope you won’t hesitate to come see me again soon.”
    Out in the hall, Willow felt much better than she had before her visit with Mila. Of course, that might have been due, in part, to the busy hallway. It was noisy and crowded and people were hurrying in both directions. With all those people and all that activity and noise, it was easier than usual to put aside feelings of loneliness. But that wasn’t the reason. The time she’d spent with Mila had made her feel better about herself.
    Promila Daruwalla was a fascinating woman. Sure, it was her job to talk with students, but she didn’t have to invite Willow into her office and serve her tea and spend nearly half an hour talking with her. That made Willow think that maybe the problem she was having with her friends — especially Buffy — was not her problem, that maybe there was nothing wrong with her after all.
    She stepped into the busy foot traffic in the hall and headed for her next class. She was almost able to dismiss her worries about her relationships with her friends.
    Almost. Not quite. She was still bothered by the coldness in Buffy’s eyes whenever she looked at her friend.
    After school that day, Buffy headed straight home. Normally, she went to the library to check in with Giles and hang out with the others. But not today. If Giles had come up with something about the cattle-eating whatever-it-was, he would track her down and let her know. As for the others . . . she just wasn’t in the mood for hanging out.
    And Willow would probably be there.
    Buffy looked up at the sky as she went down the sidewalk. There were still patches of blue, but the dark clouds were moving back in for the night. They complemented Buffy’s mood much better than the blue sky and bright sunshine.
    She didn’t understand her feelings about Willow. They didn’t make sense. Maybe it had nothing to do with Willow at all. Maybe it was just the pressure of too much slayage in too short a time, and from worrying about exams because she wasn’t prepared for them. Normally, she would go to Willow for help with that, but . . .
    “What’s wrong with me?” she muttered. Her words were buried by the sound of a lawnmower being pushed by a man to her left. He smiled and waved at her; she waved back and smiled as best she could.
    When Buffy got home, she saw an unfamiliar woman standing on the porch, talking to her mother, who stood in the open doorway. Her mother did not look happy. The woman was wearing a plain green housedress, no stockings, and sneakers on her feet. She was rather dumpy looking, overweight and sloppy, even lumpy, somewhere in her late forties, early fifties, with mousy brown hair shot with gray that reached just past her shoulder blades, frizzy and unbrushed, knotted in places.
    “No, you don’t seem