Heilman, Ward

Virtual Commons - Bridgewater State University

Bridgewater ReviewVolume 34 | Issue 1 Article 8May-2015Short Fiction: UlmusWard HeilmanBridgewater State University, wheilman@bridgew.eduThis item is available as part of Virtual Commons, the open-access institutional repository of Bridgewater State University, Bridgewater, Massachusetts.Recommended CitationHeilman, Ward (2015). Short Fiction: Ulmus. Bridgewater Review, 34(1), 24-25.Available at: http://vc.bridgew.edu/br_rev/vol34/iss1/824 Bridgewater ReviewCarefully he took off his shoes, sat down before it and waited. Some  mystery was to be explained, he thought. He felt he deserved some account of why.when the full darkness came he could no longer see the f lower, no matter how hard he looked.Once, for just a moment, he drifted off to sleep. His head rolled to the side; his dead hand f lopped to the ground. as his fingers came back to life they touched what seemed to be a snake in the sand. He quickly yanked his hand up, then slowly reached down with  two fingers to pick up the thin end of  a smooth stick.in the morning, when the first indirect light dimly lit the desert, the f lower glowed blue brief ly before folding up completely at the first brightness. Stirp moved his trunk to block the rays but the f lower never peeked out. not then, nor that evening, nor ever again.an american elm, Ulmus Americana, with a graceful vase-shaped stem. near the ground it divides into many parts; above, its limbs spread out large and full. no sign of disease. it is separate but not by itself. Over there is another not quite as tall. and some newer ones, back in, just beyond the ironwood, Carpinus Caroliniana. Stirp loved to stroke the deep ripples and sinews of the smooth, grey bark - ironwood, Carpinus - as he searched for the catkins dangling inconspicuously. what fawn nibbled and left this remnant of a shoot? who stole the secret of that nutshell? the trees changed and gave some vague answers with the seasons.the egg-shaped head of the sugar maple, Acer Saccharum, listened with many-lobed leaves. Stirp sat silent, sensing the dryads in the maples and hearing the sap practicing its kiss.after a while he stopped going back to town. He stayed in the bower. Ulmus provided seeds and small fruit. nuts came from Carpinus and for his thirst there were Saccharum.He tended the trees as he knew how. they did not need him. the bigger ones had been there before he came and the little ones did not always grow when he helped. it would be impossible for him to move the elm by himself, he thought, or any of the large trees, although they would look better rear-ranged, particularly the elm. He did transplant the smaller ones but they often caught disease and wizened.in time, Stirp took his son to the woods but he could not explain the trees to him. His son always saw stout boughs to shape into broadswords, springy branches for bows or long limbs for lances, leaves were camouf lage, and roots rif les. yet, Stirp noticed, for his son the trees always clapped hands and danced. Later his son made a f lute from a lance and a harp from a bow, and the trees sang.Once, Stirp put a huge pan in the grassy area near the elm. He filled it with all the wonderful, imaginary food he could think of. Under it he lit a fire  of air and let it play on the kindling, twigs, sticks, branches and logs. He harvested fifth-year fruit. He laid  out his earthenware and made place markers – Ulmus on the left, Carpinus and Saccharum interspersed. He hoped the trees would come to his function. Perhaps they would arrange themselves properly.though the winds and worms encour-aged them, the trees did not move. Stirp got only dead brambles and vines. He did not sit long this time. Before the darkness came, he left.SHOrt FiCtiOnUlmus Ward HeilmanSome people pursue butterf lies; some gather stamps. Some chase knowledge to build low walls; others collect adventures to stack one upon another in a fortune tower of experience: from the garret come stories of princesses. Stirp pursued trees. Long before he moved to the forests, he knew it must be trees for him. as a child in the hot, dry plain he watched the desert plants day after day. they didn’t grow. they didn’t even seem to move. He dared not water them. then one evening, unexpectedly, just after some distant object cast a shadow across it, a  plant f lowered. it burst out in bright purple.May 2015 25when he returned, the pan was overturned. Something else seemed dif ferent. things seemed to have rear-ranged themselves, he thought, but he was not sure he remembered. His utensils were definitely not where he left them. there was a pile of earthen-ware dishes, used and dirty as if marked by leaf prints.He had not had anything to eat or drink because he had waited for his guests. He approached a Saccharum and sipped some syrup. it left a metallic taste in his mouth. He looked up at a Carpinus.He saw that things were not the same. all was still. a blue, earthenware cup rested on its side in the wet, green  grass where, he was now sure, the  elm had stood.in another place, Ulmus, the great elm, was now surrounded by the ironwoods. the sugar maples were grouped around the outside. their boughs by autumn lit up like f laming swords. Ward Heilman is Professor in the Department of Mathematics and in the Department of Computer Science. 

Short Fiction: Ulmus

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Short Fiction: Ulmus

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