From the window, they saw the sun crowding in, and somewhere a large motor boomed. People slept standing up and held sticks. Clouds were low and shook under the clicks of the sun. A person slammed on the door and was pulled in and beaten. They used hair to pack their roofs and shaved the elders when they slept. A team built huts away from the main house. Children covered their heads and tried to dig. The tunnels were narrow. They placed new babies there. No one could speak above the noise. Girls burned their shirts and covered their breasts with ash. Some dug too far down and drowned in pools of freezing oil. The elders tried to say prayers into rags. They slipped on the ladders and could not return to their rooms. Wrists were broken; ankles were frozen to rock. Salt could be pecked from the walls. The sun’s tumult blasted in through holes they had dug with a wire.
The new babies had bumps on their hands, and they were strong and big. When they had eaten their grain, they hooked ropes to the surface and made daily trips to the river. The babies’ shelters slowly popped under pressure of the sun, and wood was sent splintering into the warm wind. Horses collapsed. Their ears bled. The society lived underground, and the rubble from their houses drained in on them. Children were born without light. When an elder died, the body was pushed into an unused tunnel and the tunnel was sealed. Boys placed scraps of wire in the widows’ mouths and imitated their crying. Food experts scavenged downward. One day, an underground river burst in on them and seven of them were drowned. In the darkness, boys raped men and shouted. They poked sticks upward in secret, pressed their ears to the surface.
When the grain was depleted, the youngest ones piled out of holes and ran in the grass. The noise could be seen, and yellow waves pushed down on them. Some collapsed and died. They poked the horses in the belly and stole jewelry from the rubble. The air was cleared of life and birds littered the grass. When the older children emerged from the tunnels, they were tired and their eyes were weak. The youngest ones smothered them and kicked them in the face. A funeral was held for the elders who had not died. Children pulled them on a cart to the river. A young boy held a webbed hoop and swished it through the air to produce a song from the sun’s engine. The girls spread a cloth on the bank of the river and stood on it and spoke. No one had eaten. The elders stood and shivered. Some urinated into their hands for warmth. A boy walked among them. Brushes could be used to force a man to crouch. His shoulders were blackened and he carried two bags. He stripped the veterans and the widows and the elders, and he saw his own parents and he took their rings and clothing and put everything in a bag. The sun was small and hard. Its noise became a new kind of wind. Trees grew soft and crumbly under it. There were five of them and the boy. He took each naked man into the river and gave him to the current.
The wind grew strong and reversed. Birds were jerked upward, beyond their ability. The sun became smaller and louder. Holes formed in the earth. Air blasted forth. They walked along the river and camped next to trees. A boy developed his body by carrying rocks and swimming alongside of the group. A close regiment of intercourse was followed. Babies were therefore born. Seeds could be eaten in bulk. A girl rubbed the organ of the leader and tried to take him inside her. They used wire to beat a path north. Clouds were packed with insects and broke open every morning. At night, the leader dragged sand and covered his group with it. He climbed trees to get closer. When they spoke, the sun’s noise grew small. They slept. They pressed their faces into the sand. The air became cold and slow and they could not see. They followed the water. Fish jumped from the freezing river and rested on the shore.
They were gone for three winters. All their clothing was ruptured with sound. Girls used sliced wood to keep their vaginas from burning. He treated their skin with baked soil. When a dog appeared, the men cried. They held their hands in the river. Waves crested downward. They hid under trees. He went to each of them before they slept. At night, girls spoke in small groups. The morning sun was loud, and they ran into the open and gouged at their ears with wire. He collected oil from broken drums and led them in prayer. A rag was found hooked on a tree branch. Men could no longer urinate and their hips blackened. Each day he left them and climbed to high ground.
When they slept, he poured oil in a ring. He watched from a distance as each body erupted and was silenced. He held the rag to the sun. No one survived. He returned home along the river. Years had passed. There was a house there. The people welcomed him and fed him a sauce. They had children who played in the sunshine. They asked him to wash, and he sat in the river. Another house was built, and a fence. Vehicles came along the road. The horses were strong. Dogs rolled on their backs. At night, the rain was soft. Clouds emptied their bugs onto a hill. He wore a large shirt. The people told a story and he shouted at them. He killed a dog and was put on trial. A man with a beard spoke. The sun could be a tiny dot and it could be anywhere. He saw people hugging. The noise seemed to be coming from a piece of wood in the field. Birds hung in the air. They were white on top and flew in place. The scaffold was built by the gate. He stole glass and cloth while waiting for everyone to wake up. The sun made a sound. He heard it coming. He pushed the whole structure toward the river.
After he died, they spoke to his body. A girl used her wagon to carry fruit from the hillside. Women pedaled bicycles down the road. Towers were built from wood and fastened together with wire. A boy was born blind, and the girls massaged his legs. In the winter, they held a day of singing before sealing their doors. Men transported grass to their doorways. Rice was hauled on sleds to the windows of their houses. The girls placed pebbles on his grave and pressed their faces in it.
There were seven houses there, then ten, then twelve. Wires were erected in the spring. The sky was clean, and bugs died in the light. They emerged and hammered flax into cloth. No one died for four years. They practiced writing. A boy appeared on the road. They sealed their door frames with cracked glass and glue. The wind moved slowly and could be seen chopping at the grass. No one could sleep. Birds glided in the air and chattered. Frost enveloped everything, and a boy moved about their houses, prodding the earth for holes while they lay in their beds. He carried a wire. He scratched into the ice on their walls. He pressed his ear to the ground. He looked up at it. Sun, wire, hair, house, river, hole. Cloth. He examined the tombstone. He sat under the scaffold. His hand was open. He had clear eyes. He held his wire to it.
CONTINUOUS WINTER, IN LAW
Continuous winter, in law, alteration of the provisions of a season. The term usually refers to the extension of a SNOWBANK or an ICE CAP, but it is also applied in TEMPERATURE LAW to proposed changes of a climate or windchill under consideration and in judicial (procedure) to the correction of frost. A statute may be amended by the passage of an act that is identified specifically as freezing, or by a new statute that renders some of its ice sheets nugatory. Written forms of winter, however, for the most part must be amended by an exactly prescribed procedure. The SCHEDULES AND DISPENSING RULES OF SEASONS, as provided in Article 3, may be amended when the Season Assembly decides. Again, written forms of winter are the most severe, essentially colder and more realistic than those encountered while outdoors, and can pull the so-called LIVING into long, continuous periods.