I wrote this in January of '23
This is the story of Oog.
Oog was born to Moog and Tom, the most average mammoth hunters in their niche collective of cave painters and a fire connoisseurs.
Things were good when Oog was small. He never wanted for anything and he grew into a happy, albeit rather bitey, ten year old.
He hit puberty rather early and grew to the great height of 5’8” by his eleventh birthday, a full three inches taller than his father, and another inch above the tallest grown man in the tri-meadow area. Tom couldn’t be prouder. He even had a smattering of chest hair and an armpit stink stronger than the nastiest Neanderthal.
Oog wanted to be proud of himself, and he was at first, but soon after he found himself becoming down for no good reason. He couldn’t figure it out. He had an impressive physique, girls twice his age would drag their finger across his broad shoulders as they walked past (something he definitely enjoyed), but he couldn’t stop sleeping through the day and moping by the watering hole alone at night.
It didn’t make any sense, he was beautiful, he was strong, he became more than average at taking down beasts, there was nothing in the world he needed. So why was he unable to see a sunrise and smile?
As time went by even the touch of older women ceased to give him any relief from his grief. His parents became worried and by his fifteenth birthday he stopped hunting completely. Other boys and men began to regard him as deadweight, someone that squandered the suns given blessings. He hated them all — even his parents in time, who did nothing but try to help him out of his hole.
Then, in the middle of the night on the eve of his sixteenth birthday, he left. He told no one. He knew he wasn’t looking for anything, but he also knew if he stayed he’d only end up starving to death, surrounded by food and love.
Every day was a challenge. Not because he struggled at survival skills, but because doing things that used to be easy became more strugglesome than swimming through tar.
One night, after not sleeping for hours, he got up and walked to the pond he crashed next to to get a drink of water. It was a full moon and he caught his image in the water below. It’d been years since he’d seen himself so clearly and his beard was long, his brow thick, his hair matted.
Before he could register any emotion, fat tears rolled down his cheek and got lost in the swarm of beard hair. He wept, never breaking eye contact with himself. Why did it hurt so much to see himself? Why did his own face cause him pain?
Without a second thought he raced back to his things, grabbed his spear and pressed it to his throat with furious impulse. He held it there, drawing drips of blood. The pain was the first thing he’d felt in weeks.
He fell to his knees, then to his hands and bawled like a child.
His hand gripped the spear. He was afraid.
He pulled the point back to his neck, but, instead of slicing his throat, he pulled up, against the grain of his greasy beard. A clump fell to the ground and tears landed in the mess.
He kept going, taking it all off, every inch. His face didn’t escape without plenty of nicks and cuts, but the pain was welcome. The cool night air wisped through his open wounds.
After sitting until his breath returned to baseline, he looked at the water a few feet away. Looking at himself was so hard last time and he didn’t expect to see anything different, but felt he had to look anyway.
His brow was still strong, but underneath, where the beard had been, his face was round -- almost soft. It was the first time he’d seen softness in himself in years. He smiled, cuts and all, then rolled over and fell asleep.
He never dreamed much, usually going into the dark and coming out later, but tonight was different.
The first thing he saw were the stars, a field he’d seen his entire life, but none of the stars were where they should have been. Where was he? He looked around his and when he moved he felt lighter, as if there’d been a weight his whole life and was only now able to move unencumbered.
A path stretched before him and urgency exploded within him. He ran, perusing something he couldn’t see or smell. Something was there at the end of the path. He heard giggling. An otherworldly sense of calm radiated just ahead.
Oog stepped into a clearing and he was not alone. Half a dozen beautiful, naked, women played in the water, basking in a beam of light. He held his breath, his heart beating wildly. To interrupt their joy seemed to be a crime.
Despite not moving, a stick broke underneath his foot. The women all turned at once and saw him. Everywhere he looked was another set of eyes looking deep within him. It was intense, like sitting too close to a fire.
One stepped toward him and said something in a language he didn’t understand.
The woman smiled at him, beckoned him forward. He did as she said, and cautiously approached, dropping his gaze to the ground below.
In front of him was a line in the grass, circling their enclosure. He stopped, afraid to cross this border.
Looking back up for approval, the woman again smiled and nodded.
His hairy leg, thick and strong crossed over the top of the barrier and before his foot touched ground, his leg was changed before his eyes. On the other side of the plane his foot was smooth, hairless and much smaller. Tears welled up in his eyes and he again checked the stars.
A connection of stars took shape before him — a spear with a thorny spear shone directly forward. The only way out was through.
Oog closed his eyes and stepped fully through the circle. He could hear the women chattering warmly, one even clapped, excited.
“Open your eyes,” said the woman in front of him, in language he suddenly knew.
Oog’s eyes opened and the tableau of women spread before him, all grinning ear to ear.
Oog’s voice was unrecognizable. There was no gravel, no anger, no fear, no bass at all. It was light, as if it had changed color and would never be the same.
Tears rolled out of Oog’s eyes and rolled down a smooth, flawless cheek. Oog didn’t need the reflection of the water to know something had changed.
Oog’s fingers traced along skin that moments ago had been covered in hair and mud. Now it was like his was as a young child. Unencumbered, light.
The woman in front grabbed Oog’s hand and walked them in front of the pond, where she brought them both to their knees.
“The pond will show you who you are and will leave anything you are not. Once you see yourself, you will be.”
Oog nodded, heart beating still wildly.
He peered into the water, seeing the top of his hair first. Smooth, shiny.
Then brow, so dramatically not bulbous. Straight down, over beautiful brown eyes that he immediately recognized. The same eyes, but now they caught the light -- almost glowed. Oog’s nose was the same the same shape, but smaller. It was the same thing, but all now so novel. His face was perfect. Familiar, and so feminine. Feminine... A word he didn’t know until he stared at it in his own face.
He looked at all the beauties around him and suddenly realized he had no name, it could not be brought to mind. One of the women in the water waded up to him, and looked into his eyes. “Who are you?”
“I recognize myself..." he whispered. "My voice, my words. None of this existed a moment ago. I’m so new.”
He looked down at his naked body. Not only did he recognize they new form, it seemed almost old -- as if permanent and always been this way.
He wasn’t a boy, he never had been. The disconnect he’d felt about his form was gone, replaced with oneness. He was her, and she was Me and I.
The girls around her smiled, a few clapped. “Mei!” They said it over and over. Again and again. They touched her shoulder, put their hands through her hair, kissed her on the cheeks. Celebration.
Mei was suddenly afraid, what if this went away? What if this wasn’t real? Could she live with herself as Oog? Would she have to?
Sensing her panic, the woman that first spoke to her grabbed her hand and told her, “Be Mei. Be nothing else, only be Mei.”
Mei nodded. More tears. Complicated emotions even her new words couldn't cover.
“Open them, and live anew.”
Mei opened her eyes in the material world and the light in front of her was bright, she had to adjust.
She wasn't lying down, she was sitting up, cross-legged, looking out the mouth of a cave she hadn’t crawled into. She blinked and saw she was high up, the cave looked over the tops of trees. Hills in the distance, birds in the sky.
Not yet having moved, not having looked down at her hands, she was terrified nothing had changed.
“Be Mei,” she muttered. She’d remembered words and her name. Her voice was soft. Real.
She glanced down and everything was as it was in the clearing with the women. She was new, and also naked.
Mei closed her eyes, centered herself, took a deep breath and smiled.
Eyes still closed, she stood up, stepped forward to the edge of the cave and stretched her arms wide, soaking up every bit of sunshine available.
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