Free Twisted by Uvi Poznansky Page B

by the village women, washed once with water from the local well, and a second time with tears.
    But now, even without casting a look I could tell, by the chill on my skin, that under this shroud my feet were utterly bare. No boots, no shoes, no sandals.
    Which made me envy her.
    Through the skin of my closed eyelids I could sense a sudden change. Blocking the sun, her shadow came crawling upon me, until suddenly it stopped. Which was when—with no warning, and no respect for the departed, either—she gripped my arm, rolled me aside and to my surprise, hopped in.
    Unfortunately, there was no mistaking her smell. I used to think it was the dirt caking, layer after layer, on her bare feet. Yes, that must have explained it! But somehow it reeked even worse now, perhaps because these elegant straps of leather grazed into the dirt, peeling it from her heel. Oh hell, I croaked, wishing I could turn away.
    Not now, go away, Leila.
    I could hear the heavy flapping of her breast and at once, the ground under me shook. It opened—by God, the ground split open under her sharp, pointy heels, and scream! My hair was flying straight up, my jaw dropped open...
    Within a second, the earthen walls grew immensely higher, they were vaulting over us and there we were—there in my grave—in a free fall—
    Rising, somehow, to a shaky stand I popped my eyes open. Still, all I could see in the mounting darkness is the quick flash of her teeth. She bared them in a smile.
    I turned my gaze away, noting the walls around us. I had seen an elevator once, when Job had taken me to a hotel, the King David Hotel in Jerusalem. He had booked the honeymoon suite up there at the very top, knowing it would impress a simple village girl like me. But now, this here was like no elevator I had ever seen before.
    How can I begin to describe it to you? Space was tight. In distress I looked up—perhaps by force of habit—to cry, to say a prayer. Stones, torn roots, autumn leaves, most of them already rotten, even tiny lizards and worms were soaring over us in a big swirl, bouncing from time to time off the walls, and then being blown up and away with a big spit, straight off the top of this thing.
    After a while you could breathe again, if you were so inclined. I was not. In the shadows, if you dared brush your fingers around you, you might feel the mud slipping upward along the walls as we went on falling.
    Then came various outlines, various shells and pebbles and hairy seaweed, all floating across a layer of damp air. From time to time a fish skeleton swam by, lit from inside, like the neon signs at the top of that hotel in Jerusalem. And then, puff! The skeleton hit the elevator wall and crumbled to dust.
    Layer after layer rose away. Water, vapor, gas; cold, hot, toasty. All the while the floor kept accumulating hairy strands of algae, crumpled insect wings, chopped off lizard tails, split-open pebbles, coal dust...
    In the mounting pressure I could see particles start to crystalize. Here and there something seemed to glitter underfoot. My companion would swoop down greedily—before I could move a finger—and snatch it. A diamond.
    Sigh. I cannot stand this woman. What a bitch.
    The elevator sank deeper and deeper, farther and farther into an abyss, shaking violently as it went through its paces, giving out loud creaking noises.
    Then, with an abrupt thud, it came to a stop. A zigzag fissure appeared along the wall, and before it cracked open I knew: On this side, darkness. On the other—the unknown.
     
    ❋
     
    S nap out of it, I tell myself. Don’t allow yourself to drift away into the past. But then, before I can crawl back to safety, to the depth of the cave, a deep groan rises from down below at my left side, and from the right it is echoed back.
    “Hell,” I blurt. “Where am I?”
    To which a voice says, “You can say that again.”
    I cast a quick glance this way and that, and see—just outside the mouth of the cave—two figures standing