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Excerpted Inspirations #225

  • Writer: Linda Odhner, with photos by Liz Kufs
    Linda Odhner, with photos by Liz Kufs
  • Apr 13
  • 0 min read
[Meg Murray, her father, and Calvin O’Keefe have managed to escape from the planet Camazotz, by a method known as tessering. The journey has left Meg nearly frozen.] What were these three strange things approaching? They were the same dull gray color as the flowers. If they hadn’t walked upright they would have seemed like animals. They moved directly toward the three human beings. They had four arms and far more than five fingers to each hand, and the fingers were not fingers, but long waving tentacles. They had heads, and they had faces. But where the faces of the creatures on Uriel had seemed far more than human faces, these seemed far less. Where the features would normally be there were several indentations, and in place of ears and hair were more tentacles. They were tall, Meg realized as they came closer, far taller than any man. They had no eyes. Just soft indentations. Meg’s rigid, frozen body tried to shudder with terror, but instead of the shudder all that came was pain. She moaned. […] One of them came up to Meg and squatted down on its huge haunches beside her, and she felt utter loathing and revulsion as it reached out a tentacle to touch her face. But with the tentacle came the same delicate fragrance that moved across her with the breeze, and she felt a soft, tingling warmth go through her that momentarily assuaged her pain. She felt suddenly sleepy. I must look as strange to it as it looks to me, she thought drowsily, and then realized with a shock that of course the beast couldn’t see her at all. Nevertheless a reassuring sense of safety flowed through her with the warmth which continued to seep deep into her as the beast touched her. […] “What shall I call you, please?” Meg asked. “Well, now. First, try not to say any words for just a moment. Think within your own mind. Think of all the things you call people, different kinds of people.” While Meg thought, the beast murmured to her gently. “No, mother is a special, a one-name; and a father you have here. Not just friend, nor teacher, nor brother, nor sister. What is acquaintance? What a funny, hard word. Aunt. Maybe. Yes, perhaps that will do. And you think of such odd words about me. Thing, and monster! Monster, what a horrid sort of word. I really do not think I am a monster. Beast. That will do. Aunt Beast.” “Aunt Beast,” Meg murmured sleepily, and laughed. “Have I said something funny?” Aunt Beast asked in surprise. “Isn’t Aunt Beast all right?” “Aunt Beast is lovely,” Meg said. “Please sing to me, Aunt Beast.” -Madeleine L’Engle, A Wrinkle in Time (1962), pp, 173-175, 184 Artwork (above): Liz Kufs and Gemini 3.1 (with Nano Banana 2) Photo (below): Page Morahan, https://www.pagespagesgallery.com/

 
 
 

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