Gallery Ivy

Ursa found animal sculptures in ver castle. Maybe children carved them, from twisted roots. The roots poked through cracks in the floor, as if the animals grew through the stone, playing there until Ursa came. Then they were still. A bull paused in mid-charge with a serpent draped over his horns. Deer stood poised with wild antlers. A contorted cat with lean limbs stretched out of the root.

Ursa watched and waited. So did the animals. Nobody moved for the longest time.

“Nothing’s happening, right?” said Ursa. The animals said nothing.

Ursa went to bed.

Ursa picked ver nose and then looked at ver first finger. When ve touched ver finger to ver thumb, they stuck together.

“Okay,” ve said, “now there’s nothing.”

When ve pulled ver finger and thumb apart, ve saw a gummy thing stretch, then snap into a ball. Ver thumb and finger could measure a coffin nail, held open like that.

“Now that’s something,” Ursa said.

Ve did it again and again. Okay, nothing. Open, something. Finger and thumb together, apart, together. Finger and thumb.

.

Ursa lived alone in a castle. Mostly ve gathered dust. Ve scraped dust into little piles with the side of ver hand and then studied the piles. Ve stared until all ve saw was dust. Ve couldn’t even see the side of ver hand.

The dust tickled ver nose and ve sneezed. The little piles became billowing clouds.

Ursa growled, brushed the dust off ver head, and began again.