LITMIR.BIZ

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ater and sun glare, pleasing frogs and storks equally? We may never know. Fleecy and slim as an arrow, the blade extended almost straight at first but then bent more and more toward the sun, which was rising in its full glory*.

      As a rule of thumb*, ants don't have names, simply because there are far more ants than there are names. Besides, it isn’t worth the effort to remember the name of someone you’re unlikely to meet again. In the hustle and bustle* of a workday, a simple ‘Hey!’ works as effectively as any other sound made to attract the attention of another, especially in a perfectly organized process. However, to make our protagonist easier to refer to, let’s give him a name, say 'K'.

      K couldn't explain why he dropped the piece of leaf he was carrying and started climbing the blade of grass, not even under a judicial oath in a high court*. He had simply stopped as he passed by, hearing 'Hey' echo around him dozens of times, while other ants made their way around the spot. He placed the leaf on the ground and looked up. The tip of the blade was waving in the wind, occasionally disappearing into the sun's glare. Something stirred within him, causing a swirl in his stomach*. Slowly, as if unsure, he moved toward the blade and began climbing. Halfway up, when he had almost reached the middle, he paused and looked down at the ground. The rest of his people continued their tasks as if nothing had happened. They straightened their path through the spot where K had stopped, and someone had already taken care of the leaf he dropped, without much of a "Whose is it?”. K tore his gaze* from the ground and continued to the top.

      Unlike down on the ground, at the top of the grass blade, the weather was excellent! It was still pre-dawn down there beneath the grass cover, and it was a great feeling to emerge from the damp darkness. K exposed his face to the rising sun and enjoyed the flow of fresh air.

      Suddenly, he spotted two beautiful butterflies flying nearby. Their wings looked like they were made of blue velvet with two small black dots on them, one on each. Their feelers and the fur on their necks shimmered with mother-of-pearl. They looked so free and happy that he started feeling envious. He couldn’t remember a time when he had ever rested in his life. All ants knew that they lived to work for the sake of their brothers and sisters. And they all had to stick together* to survive, as the Queen of ants always said. Unfortunately, there was a lot of truth in what she said, and everyone just had to believe it.

      In contrast to many others, ants don’t have much to defend themselves against their enemies. No rhinoceros beetle’s horns to fight, no moth’s wings to fly away from danger. Almost any bug around could crush them if they chose to do so. The only power they had was unity. Even though others reconciled themselves to this way of life, K had not. He always dreamed of being something more than just a negligible tiny bug; he wanted to see life beyond his anthill. But he knew it would hardly happen, simply because he was born an ant.

      Upset by these thoughts, he decided to descend back to the ground. Just as he started crawling, a sudden gust of wind swept through*. K grabbed hold of the blade* as best he could, but the wind was stronger. He shut his eyes out of fear, and the world disappeared, shortly followed by his consciousness…

      THE BOOK

      ‘Dorothy’s not in Kansas anymore…’ was the first thought that appeared in K’s head as soon as he regained consciousness*. He wasn’t sure whether it was his own thought or not a thought at all, but rather a whisper from the lush greenery*.

      K instantly recalled his first summer in this world. The track by which the colony was carrying the food and building materials for the anthill that year went along a relatively small hill with some boulders lying here and there on the hillsides. Some boulders were lying apart, but some formed groups that looked like intriguing castles or statues that caught K’s eye every time he passed them by. The path mostly went along the bottom of the hill, but at one place it twisted towards one of those castles and immediately turned back to the hill’s bottom as if it was willing to shake the minds of those following it. At the beginning of every day, K was eager to go with the crowd to make that twist, take a glance at the valley, and feel the cold calmness of the stones.

      One day, passing it by like a thousandth time, he noticed something light among the otherwise dark and gray stones. The boulders formed a sort of a cave here, and something bright and magnificent inside caught his eye. He had never noticed it before and felt like an explorer who discovered an unknown land after months of wandering on the high seas. He couldn’t fall asleep that night. The image of light coming from the cave tingled in his mind, and K decided to get in there no matter what!

      The next day, as he was passing by the cave, K pretended he hurt his leg and crawled away from the crowd. Ants never stop and once those who were around him in the column had vanished, he silently moved towards the cave and soon found himself inside. He felt cool and humid air around him and, as soon as his eyes got used to the dark, approached what had been bothering him all the recent days. It was a book, actually an old one which had seen better times*, without the original cover, and with a few pages torn off. On the front page, K could discern just two letters, which were significantly bigger than the others – OZ.

      K didn’t sleep in the anthill that night and many nights after that. Every day when darkness covered the ground, he sneaked away to the boulders and read. It wasn’t easy on cloudy nights, but K made it up* under the moonlight in the serene nights. He read excitedly about the fascinating adventures of a few strange characters and their dog, but never thought of it as something that could ever happen in reality. It seemed like a fairytale that couldn’t have anything to do with his actual mundane life* full of boredom. Not until this day…

      He started recalling everything that had happened to Dorothy the day she and Toto were swept away to Oz by a cyclone. Remembering Dorothy’s adventures, K started believing that when he opened his eyes, he’d see the yellow brick road and hear Toto barking merrily. A quite surreal feeling deepened even more by the fact that whatever held his body wasn’t steady ground. It was like lying on a flying carpet hovering not far from the ground. After a few moments, he finally mustered the courage* and opened his eyes. No, there wasn’t a yellow brick road. There were no roads at all as far as the eye could see. What was even worse, there was no ground either. K was floating in a small lake, sitting on a water lily’s petal. Rather, it was a pond, and not a big one, and the lily was not so far from the shore, but still… K was just an ant hardly longer than half a centimeter. “Where are those Winged Monkeys when you need them!” thought K to himself when a big fish splashed a few inches away from his lily. The arising wave pushed the lily up and flung poor K to the shore.

      K had already grown accustomed to flying and habitually closed his eyes as soon as he felt himself lift off the ground, enjoying the sensation of flight. Scarcely had his body touched the ground when a thought flashed in his mind: “Where in the world am I now?!”. He didn’t hasten to open his eyes, trying to figure out where he was. Nothing felt disturbing, so he finally looked around. K was lying on his back, not far from the pond’s shore, on a small piece of bare ground, probably a footstep left by a small deer that had come to the pond to slake its thirst*. The crown of a poplar tree was waving right above him, providing a pleasant shade from the sun, which was slowly but surely* approaching its zenith.

      THE WEB

      “Ok!” murmured K to himself, turning over. Things had stopped being as surprising as they had been earlier that morning. His urge for adventures was fully satisfied for the foreseeable future, and the only wish left was to get back home. The only question was, “Where’s home, after all?”. The chances of finding the answer from the height of the poplar were considerably higher, and K immediately moved to the tree. He started climbing, and, following his ant instincts, K didn’t move straight toward the top but rather along a mysterious winding path, the origin of which only God knows. He never put much thought* into why ants never go straight. Actually, it was his first time making his own way, not following someone else. All he did before was move in someone’s tracks, watching their feet flash in front of his eyes. And ahead of that, someone was another someone, and another, and so on, and so on… And no one ever questioned why they went as they did. The endless chain was winding and entangling itself in a trap of unknown reasons*. Even if someone got enough bravery to pose the question, the typical answer was: “Those who did it knew better. Go and do your

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