An experiment in Magical Realism

Ramona feels the dust clinging to her ankles, imploring her to stay. Stretching before her is the eerie off-white of the road. To the left of her are telegraph poles, leering drunkenly at obscure angles. The sky is navy – like an officer’s uniform. A few stars, like a smattering of freckles, or perhaps more dust. The moon has a vague haze of cloud around it. 1

As Ramona walks, she absently thinks her feet sound detached from her body,2

as though they are walking a few paces behind her. The sound seems to belong to another body. It seems that if she were to stop still right here in the middle of the road, the half-shuffle would continue behind her. 3

There is no one else on this road, but Ramona feels someone – something is there. The air is incense and history. No believer in the supernatural, Ramona clings to her religion. With religion, everything is explained, and she never has to worry. 4

A light appears in front of her and she starts, but breathes again when she realises it is just a car. Once again she is human, her thoughts scattered by the sultry wind. 5

Once the car rounds the bend ahead of her, she feels different again. There is something on this road tonight. Ramona almost panics, seeing the stretch of road behind her, and the distance ahead. She can do nothing but keep going, she must keep going…6

Ramona furiously concentrates on the road, on nothing but the road. In her head she sings a song. When she is still a few metres from her gate, she thinks she hears the faint ringing of a cattle bell. Then, she is inside.7

As is common in these summers, the wind rises the next day. It is a hot, malicious wind. Ramona sits at her table, the washing done and the floors swept. Again, she thinks she hears the bell of the cattle, this time just behind her. Irrationally, she feels that she will turn round and look at something strange, and quite possibly evil. She turns slowly, unwillingly. She sees not a bell or the devil manifest, but one of the plates left to her by her mother, hanging on the wall. Caught in the current, it swings side to side. She is being ridiculous. 8

Over the next few days, the winds continue to blow, and the heat is so intense Ramona feels she will pass out from just walking. In her cool room with the white walls and bed, her shutter blows open and shut. Soon she falls into a light and troubled sleep, and does not think any more about such things. 9

Now the winds have gone, and Ramona almost wishes she still had their companionship. She has never got used to the silence of this house, and she rather likes the singing of the plates on the wall. Music and man-made noises make the silence worse – the old men shouting to each other nearby, the crackling radio in the kitchen playing tunes by singers long dead. Ramona likes those other noises, the accidental ones. 10

But Ramona has things to do, and cannot stand around and think about things like plates and music. She likes to think she is busy, and decides to venture out into the small village by the sea, on the outskirts of which she lives. The road, a few days later, is the very antithesis of what it was before. The burning sun flatters the road now, and the bushed lining the sides are no longer ‘grotesque’ as she had previously thought. 11

There is a steep hill down to the village, and Ramona has to carefully make her way down for fear of losing her footing, It is hard to focus on the hill, though, when the sea to the right of her jostles and sparkles for her attention. She greets a few friendly faces, and ends up sitting in a café on her own. Ramona is aware she has mistimed this outing. The village becomes deserted at lunchtime, everyone settles down to a world of unconsciousness and dreams made psychedelic by the sun.     12

She becomes aware of the two hovering waiters in the café, eager for her to leave so they can take their break. One is plaintive (he is younger). He wants, no doubt, to get home to his girlfriend or his mother. The older is clearly angry, furrows deepening on his brow, and looks as thought he wants to get home to beat up his girlfriend or his mother. She eventually gives in, weakly even leaving a tip.13

Ramona has timed this very poorly indeed. The tiny shops are either shut or are shutting, and she has no choice but to climb the hill again. The sun has reached its penetrating peak, and sweat pools in the hollows of her collarbone. Absently, she thinks she will die on this hill one day, when she is older. 14

Reaching the top of the hill, she squares up to the dust track, a sense of determination (or desperation?) settling around her. After what seems like hours, she hears the plate noise. Only it cannot be the plate noise – she is too far from home. Up ahead, she sees the origin. A shepherd is lazily leading his stock. Despite his disposition, he is a commanding figure, and the sheep follow obediently. 15

Ramona curses under her breath. In a few metres, there will be no way of getting through the sheep. It is a matter of mere seconds before she will be submerged in the haggard, stumbling forms of the sheep. She finds her breathing has accelerated, and she feels light headed.16

The jangling bells resonate heavily in her head until she cannot tell when the ringing stops. The shepherd has not seen her, and now the sheep are all around her and the noise is incredible – unbearable. The shepherd is talking to his sheep, he is berating them, making some almost inhuman sound. His hair is matted and his skin a beaten tan. Sheep are all around her, knocking against her legs. Ramona hears snatches of words, coming not just from the shepherd. She is suddenly aware, and worryingly unsurprised that the sheep are talking. They mutter and curse, and she listens to what they say. It is what she hears that alarms her. Tales of murder, deceit and hatred. It is though the souls of the damned are here amongst the sheep.17

The last few straggle round her and she watches as they wind up the road. She will never see these sheep coming back.   18