Enchantment Read Free Page A

convulsions, and my body won’t be found until a dog drags some part of me onto somebody’s farm. Probably the circumcised part of me, and they’ll have to call in a
mohel
to identify it. Definitely the boy Itzak Shlomo—on your records as Ivan Petrovich Smetski. A good runner, but apparently not bright enough to look out for trees. Sorry, but he was too stupid to go on living. That’s just the way natural selection works. And Father would shake his head and say, He should have been in Israel, where there are no trees.
    After a while, though, his head cleared, and he went back to bounding through the forest. Now, though, he looked up, scouting for low limbs, and that’s how he realized he had found a clearing—not because of the bright sunlight that made the place a sudden island of day in the midst of the forest twilight, but because suddenly there were no more branches.
    He stopped short at the edge of the clearing and looked around. Shouldn’t it be a meadow here, where the sun could shine? Tall grass and wildflowers, that’s what it should be. But instead it was just like the forest floor, dead leaves thickly carpeting the undulating surface of the clearing. Nothing alive there.
    What could be so poisonous in the ground here that neither trees nor grass could grow here? It had to be something artificial, because the clearing was so perfectly round.
    A slight breeze stirred a few of the leaves in the clearing. A few blew away from the rise in the center of the clearing, and now it looked to Vanya as if it was not a rock or some machine, for the shape under the leaves undulated like the lines of a human body. And there, where the head should be, was that a human face just visible?
    Another leaf drifted away. It had to be a face. A woman asleep. Had she gathered leaves around her, to cover her? Or was she injured, lying here so long that the leaves had gathered. Was she dead? Was the skin stretched taut across the cheekbones like a mummy? From this distance, he could not see. And a part of him did not want to see, wanted instead to run away and hide, because if she was dead then for the first time his dreams of tragedy would come true, and he did not want them to be true, he realized now. He did not want to clear the leaves away and find a dead woman who had merely been running through the woods and hit her head on a limb and managed to stagger into the midst of this clearing, hoping that she could signal some passing airplane, only she fell unconscious and died and . . .
    He wanted to run away, but he also wanted to see her, to touch her; if she was dead, then to see death, to touch it.
    He raised his foot to take a step into the clearing.
    Though his movement was ordinary, the leaves swirled away from his foot as if he had stirred a whirlwind, and to his shock he realized that this clearing was not like the forest floor at all. For the leaves swirled deeper and deeper, clearing away from his feet to reveal that he was standing at the edge of a precipice.
    This was no clearing, this was a deep basin, a round pit cut deeply into the earth. How deep it was, he couldn’t guess, for the leaves still swirled away, deeper, deeper, and the wind that had arisen from the movement of his leg carried them up and away, twisting into the sky like a pillar of smoke.
    If that
was
a woman lying there, then she must be lying on a pedestal arising from the center of this deep hollow. Women who bumped their heads into tree limbs did not climb down a precipice like this and climb up a tower in the middle. Something else was going on here, something darker. She must have been murdered.
    He looked at her again, but now many of the leaves that had blown up from Vanya’s feet were coming to rest, and he couldn’t quite see her face. No, there it was, or where it should have been. But no face now, just leaves.
    I imagined it, he thought. It was that leaf—I thought it was a nose. There’s no woman there. Just a strange rock formation.