Traveller's Tales

Image by Don Woods, courtesy of Unsplash

Yeah Write Weekly Challenge #492

Character: International tour guide with astraphobia

Action: Knitting a scarf

Sophie climbed onto Nana’s lap, adroitly dodging a knitting needle that seemed to have a life of its own. She immersed herself in Nana’s warmth and softness, in violet talc and peppermint drops. It always amazed her how Nana could keep knitting and purling, regular as a heartbeat, with Sophie squirming on her lap.

Sophie pulled the opposite end of the scarf towards her. “Tell me about this one, Nana.” 

Nana glanced at the square Sophie was holding and put her needles down. The square was a striking combination of rich red and vivid blue. Through the blue, Nana had knitted the black, outstretched wing of a bird; in the red section, she’d knitted the grey-green spines of some grass.

“Ah, my trip to the outback. We were near Uluru when I spotted a wedge-tailed eagle hunting for prey. It was majestic. The grass is called spinifex. Indigenous people use it for lots of different things.”

Sophie loved hearing Nana’s travel tales. The next square featured an array of blues, with a collection of colourful patterns and fish- and branch-like shapes.

“It’s underwater!” squeaked Sophie. “I can see Nemo!”

“Yes, love. Snorkelling off the Cook Islands. It was a wonderland down there, and our guide took us to some really great spots. When you’re older, I’m going to take you.” She poked Sophie playfully in the ribs.

Eagerly, Sophie gathered in the next square. She was greeted by hues of green with scattered patches of yellow, a very long snake, and a bird with a large bill.

“That’s a toucan. Eduardo, our guide, spotted it first. He also spotted the python resting on a branch. It was huge! The Amazon is one of my favourite places. We really felt like we were the only people on earth.”

“I know what this one is. New York!” The square was light grey. In darker grey were arrayed the decreasing scallops of the Chrysler building and Liberty’s crown. A line of small yellow squares suggested a taxi rank.

“That’s right Sophie. Oh, the museums and galleries, shops and restaurants, all the places that have featured in movies over the years. And so much energy!”

Sophie looked at the last square. This one was different to the others. It was almost all black. Such colour as there was was confined to two white areas with black dots in the middle, and a reddish circle. These areas seemed to be random bursts of colour. Sophie looked again, even though she didn’t really want to. The shapes resolved themselves into two wild eyes and a gaping mouth.

Sophie was confused. “Nana-,” she began tentatively. Nana cuddled her and kissed the top of her head. Sophie snuggled more tightly into her lap.

“This was very sad, sweetheart. It was my trip to Machu Picchu. It was late afternoon, and our guide was telling us a fabulous story about the Incas when a flash of lightning lit up the site. He just stopped and looked really scared. This was followed by a thunderclap and he dropped to his knees and started whimpering. We tried to calm him down but there was more and more lightning and thunder. He tore himself away from us and ran towards the edge of the site. He was looking around wildly, trying to find shelter. A lightning bolt struck the ground near him. He reeled around, very close to the edge now, in every sense of the word. Then a massive peal of thunder startled him so much that he just tripped and toppled over the side. The last things I saw were his eyes and mouth.” 

Sophie was very quiet. Nana resumed her knitting, the needles’ click-clicking the only sound.

Several days later, Nana retrieved her knitting from the basket and smiled. Pegged over the black square, a rough collage, something a child might make. The main image was Machu Picchu. An andean condor rode the thermals high above, while a group of Peruvian children smiled into a camera, frank and curious. Small lengths of coloured wool were stuck to different parts of the collage. Nana chuckled. She’d even suggested a colour scheme, the little scamp. Nana picked up her needles and began.