Back in the oldest days – much, much older than the old days – people were better, you know.
No, not just better manners and things. That was the old days. Pay attention to me. They were BETTER. Stronger, nimbler, sturdier, swifter. Especially swifter!
Now, what made that change, you ask me? Well of course, it was all the fault of the young people.
Back in those oldest days, the strongest, nimblest, sturdiest, and especially swiftest of all the people were Foot and Hand. They were sisters, and they were each the proudest, happiest, most boastful people you could ever do meet. Especially to each other.
“Sister,” said Hand one day to Foot, “I swam up a waterfall backwards today. With one hand.”
“Not bad, sister,” replied Foot to Hand. “I ran laps around the mountains today. And after each lap I jumped up to the tallest peak and down again. Took me until lunch to hit an even hundred.”
“Showoff and a liar besides,” said Hand. “You’re far too slow to do that.”
“And same to you,” said Foot. “You never did that with one hand. Your hands are too small and weak for such speed.”
And because they were sisters it wasn’t five minutes before both of them were screaming and shouting and promising never to talk to one another again and then breaking the promise to curse at the other and so on and so forth, up until the racket got so noisy that their father couldn’t sleep a wink. “That’s enough!” he said. “If you two have to keep your parents up all hours with your fighting, you can do it somewhere else. Somewhere very far away. Why don’t you go for a race? Then you can fight about something different and maybe quieter. Far away.”
“A race around the world?” said Foot. “She won’t stand a chance. Done!”
“A race around the world?” said Hand. “She’ll be left dead in the water. Agreed!”
“Where shall we start?” said Foot. “Up by Big Bend Mountain?”
“You’re off your head,” said Hand. “We begin in Kana Creek and head southeast, to the Hichkaloara River.”
“A water-race? Nonsense.”
“A land-race? Ridiculous.”
They argued and fought some more and ran out of new swearwords so they made new ones and at long last they agreed that each would race as she saw fit.
“After all,” said Hand, “it’s all that running that’s made your feet so slow and clumsy. Like an elephant’s.”
“And your swimming has swollen your arms with water,” said Foot. “They are as fat and floppy as hippopotamus’s forelegs.”
And with that it was one, two, three, go. Foot took off so hard her footfalls made half of Big Bend Mountain come down, and the splash of Hand into the water washed out half of Kana Creek and straightened out all its bends from there to the sea.
Now, these sisters were the best at everything. I told you that. And so it was no surprise when they began to use their magic to spy on one another.
“Earth,” said Foot as she ran. “Hey you, listen to me. You go underneath all the places, even the big wet ones. You keep an eye on my sister for me, and let me know if she’s gaining.”
“Sure thing,” said Earth.
“Water,” said Hand between strokes. “You paying attention? You’re everywhere in the air, so I hope you are. Just tell me how quickly my sister’s coming along. I don’t want her passing me.”
“Can do, will do, and done,” said Water.
So they looked. And they thought. And because they were looking at the same race from different angles, and because they weren’t very bright – no brains, you see – they came to different conclusions. Well, the same conclusion.
“She’s getting closer,” they both said.
“What?!” said Foot. “Bah! I’ll solve that.” And she spat and hissed at the dirt and kicked it. The clod of spit flew up, up, up, up high into the sky and broke apart into the air, where it hissed down into the mouth of Hand as she drew breath.
“The sneak!” said Hand. “I can put a stop to that.” And she mumbled and cursed and bubbled into the water and shouted out so loud that it hummed down into the rocks and came soaring up through the soil into Foot’s pounding legs.
So it was that at the end of the first day of the sister’s race, they both stumbled a bit.
Foot was just leaping over a sea when she felt her feet turn fumbly, and when she landed she almost turned her heel. “My legs!” she called out. “What’s happened to my legs? That cheat, my sister! I’ll fix her!”
Hand was turning ‘round a cape when her arms got sore and she saw how small they were. “My arms!” she shrieked. “She’s withered them up! I’ll turn her inside out and tie her up with rocks!”
And both the sisters got angry, and if there’s one sure thing about angry, it’s that it goes with bad magic like salt and pepper. Hand splashed and the ripples spread, Foot stomped and the world trembled, and the next set of curses that went sailing ‘round the world were twice as nasty as the last.
At the end of the second day, Foot was too warm. She slowed down and mopped her brow, crinkled her forehead. She was sweating.
“Water from the skin?” she said, drowsily. “That’s good. Too warm. Too warm! Why, I could stand in the Sahara skinning mosquitos all day long if I felt it! That sister! She’s gotten worse!”
Meanwhile, as the sun went down, Hand was huddling herself as she paddling, teeth clicking like beetles. “S-s-such a strange s-s-shiver,” she hissed. “Helps t-to keep off the c-c-old, though. Cold! COLD! I’ve never f-felt such a thing! She’s a-awful! Awful!”
So they kept going, and they kept scheming, and cursing, and by this time the world was looking more familiar again. They were angry and bewitched but the last leg was in sight, their home was just a few miles away, and this made they try twice as hard – and curse twice as hard.
“Take that!” spat Foot, and she snapped her teeth shut on the sky so hard it twitched.
“That for you,” snarled Hand, and she blew a breath into the air so hard that it tickled the mountains black-and-blue.
These curses were the strongest curses yet, and they were as quick as the sisters. Before a minute’s minute had gone by, they were doubled up under the nastiest magic they’d each ever heard of or made.
“Whoooshhh,” sighed Foot. “Lung are. Hurting. Maybe maybe I should. Take. A. Breath. Er.” She slowed down.
“Ow,” whispered Hand. “Ow ow ow ouch. My shoulders, my legs, my poor arms. So sore! Maybe I should stop and stretch. Just for a moment.” And she slowed down.
And the nature of slowing down when you’re good and tired – as those two sisters were, for the first time ever – is that it’s hard to stop. And that’s why when I walked outside the next day to start the cooking-fire, I found Hand and Foot side by side in the bushes yards from the finish line, passed out hand in hand like they were four years old again. Tied.
It was so cute that it almost made me forget to be angry at them, because those curses of theirs had bounced so hard around the earth that they’d landed on EVERYBODY. Nobody could jump up mountains anymore, or swim oceans, or pull themselves up by their feet. And it was all the fault of those two young people.
And my husband, of course. I told them not to listen to their father, I did. But nobody listens to me!