Ouroboros or the Daughter of Time – J.L. Moultrie

September 18, 2025

You fixed your eyes on accumulating clouds while the diviner held you under water. 

Your throat tightened with emotion as your mind flooded with fragmented visions. The 

moment was primordial – coming in drawn-out waves. As if the sum of experiences, up to that 

point, were merely preamble.

***

When you were proto-consciousness, Edward drove you and Jeff to northern Michigan to 

fish and witness seasonal transition. Recalling the sea of colored trees made you emotional to the 

point of losing composure.

        After he vanished, rumors swirled that he was kidnapped and being forced to develop for 

a world power. Others posited that he absconded to a far-off land to lead a life of obscurity. You 

remembered him as you last saw him: reading in his office early into the morning. 

        Jeff’s mother ceased all but obligatory contact after she gained full custody. She and 

Edward divorced before you were created, when Jeff was in middle school. 

        In one interview, Edward stated that, by far, you were his greatest achievement.

Meanwhile, the camera man panned across the Midwest compound rife with acres, creeks and 

flora to a young Jeff by himself, with his back to the lens.

***

The flames behind your eyes turned some away, starting with Jeff. You overheard him, 

as a teenager, praying at his bedside. His supplication contained the request that you vanish 

someplace, so things could go back to how they were.

        Teaming with him never crossed your mind, but the alternatives bordered on 

suicide. He stood in the chapel entrance, watching your approach from atop the hillside. The 

cinder from his cigar glowed brightly, briefly illuminating his wan face and slender nose. It was 

the nose of your father.

        Because of your unique genesis, Edward felt the details of your life’s trajectory would 

reflect this quality. He charged you to choose your own name. After days of contemplation, you 

landed on Dakota.

***

The river spanned the low end of Michigan’s upper peninsula. You trekked through the 

valley’s wide cliffs. The exposed strata eventually lead to a long tree line. A wind gale rippled 

through the high branches and leaves, a sound that often put you at ease.

        You wore a kaftan tunic, leather boots and denim jeans. Your skin was fair and 

your hair was in a bun. You smelled the river before you heard the stream. After stepping into 

the muddy loam, your boots sank further into earth.

        You searched the sky as you stepped into the clear, shallow water. Various birds called 

near and far, including geese traveling in a V formation across the wide clearing. A cargo ship, 

burdened with containers, could be seen at the horizon line. A pair of swans floated twenty 

yards ahead. Chemtrails crisscrossed, spanning the pink firmament.

***

You watched the small caravan through your rifle’s scope. Two were armed and on 

horseback, stationed at the front and rear. You counted five on foot, in between. You took out the 

two riders quickly. Jeff, masked and armed, came from behind a copse. He yanked a large case 

from one and took the horses.

***

Mom was as deeply flawed as dad. Instead of constantly departing for long research trips, 

she smothered me with attention, like this would create a balance. I’m his biological child, but 

you’re his spiritual offspring. Making peace with this hasn’t been easy.

        He quickly rolled and lit another cigar.

        Those are bad for you, you said.

        Your attempts at laughter were searching.

        What happened to him? Did he think his work was done?

        I don’t know. I deal with madness, like his, though I went in different directions. When 

we were separated, he was relieved. Naturally, I lashed out at you, which wasn’t right.

        I understand, but don’t hold this against yourself any longer. Promise? Times are already 

changing.

        Okay. I think you’re right. He burned the evidence of your development. I can’t 

blame him – he was always overly cautious.

***

You met your followers in the usual location and many came to be healed. An elder

 stood in front of a billowing sheet hanging across the cave’s mouth. She asked if what she’d

witnessed were actual or simply the result of imaginations running wild. You watched fire light 

flicker in her restless, inky eyes. You rose and offered your hand. She gripped it and relaxed her 

eyelids. After a moment, tears began rolling down her cheeks. 

        There was great disorder inside you. The night would live within like a fomenting collage 

with imagination as its impetus. One moment you felt composed, then suddenly, as if you 

were in shards, scattered beyond the firmament.