|REVIEW STORE: Did you enjoy Anthony's short story? Please tell him so. We know he will appreciate
your feedback. CLICK HERE to write a review of "The Dropa and the Han".
NEW REVIEWS: OMG, he actually did what I have hoped he would do for so long now. I always felt that
Avilana would lend itself to a sequel or maybe a series of stories based on the adventures of the two lovers.
And here is at least one. More! More! *****__Su Chang-Wu.
WOW! Cash, this guy is something else again! Mesmerizing! In my opinion, the best work in short story
form to be posted at Literary Masters, Inc. to date. Amazing character development and interaction played
out in so few words in such a primitive and captivating landscape. As much a fine painting, at the hands of a
master artist, as a fine writing at the hands of a master writer. Truly, one of our best "Literary Masters!"
Roll on, Mr. Gullatta. Roll on! And he has! Well done! ***** __ Captain Apple Jack.
A beautifully written sequel to this astonishing relationship between a woman and a man. Drawing on
biblical imagery and weaving it together with a modern tapestry of an ancient encounter with an alien
people from the sky, Mr Gullatta has once again created quite a sensation. Magnifico! Antonio. Magnifico!
*****__Jean Ann Morgan
|Literary Masters, Inc.
Publicists for Short Stories, Books, Poems and Songs
Long Island, New York 11971
|“The Dropa and the Han”
By Anthony M. Gullatta
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Rated "R" by the author
From the ceiling of the clouds down to this grassy plain.
IN THE GARDEN OF EDEN
Upon this grassy plain, under a warm sun, with the sound of gentle water running by, we had become one
again. A borrowed rib had been returned to me in a mythical Garden of Eden never to be removed again.
Man. Woman. Woman/Man. The circle had been completed and I felt whole once more.
When I opened my eyes, Avilana was standing there on the other side of the river. So close now. She had
come down from the clouds. She summoned me to the other side of a ford, and I crossed over.
In the Himalayan mountains on the border that divides China and Tibet, there once lived a proud and strong
tribe of hunters and gatherers. If one were to trudge into this barely accessible mountain region, one might
happen upon some caves that were obviously occupied by a primitive people long, long ago. The HANS lived
here. I know for I am one. I found my mate here. She came to me from the clouds high above our camp at
the foot of the tall mountain peaks called Mo Ma. And she became something highly unusual that changed
everything that we knew about our ways.
So far as I remember, we were never alone. A warlike people, we often traveled many turns of the sun
seeking new and fertile land to plant our seeds and harvest new animals to feed our sons and daughters.
When we encountered others of our kind, we often engaged in brutal warfare using our clubs of Nubian
wood handles with heads of stone and spears made from the strong shoots of our native thong and bamboo
We were a close family of people not given to separation from the clan. So it was quite unusual for me to find
myself lost in a forest half starved and close to death when Avilana had come to me.
The morning after, a gray overcast sky hung low in the valley. The surrounding mountain peaks having
been masked by heavy clouds for days. Suddenly a deep rumble shook the ground, sending animals
scurrying and startling birds from their nests. As the thunder-like rumbling from the clouds grew louder,
I became truly afraid. For, in my valley, I had never heard thunder like this as the rumbling intensified to
a heavy roar and then a bright flash burst forth from above the clouds. Avilana clung to me wrapping her
strong arms around my waist, pressing her soft chin against my shoulder. “They are coming for me,” she
I stood frozen in amazement as a strange globe lit up the sky like a giant smooth and golden stone with a
fiery tail as it descended behind the trees of the closest mountain peak. It wobbled and veered as it fell, as
if trying to keep itself from smashing into the ground. Suddenly the thunderous roar stopped, as the golden
stone made one final veer and a slight upward turn before slamming down. Avilana and I were knocked off
our feet from the shock wave of its impact beyond the trees.
“We must go to it,” she summoned, pulling me strongly by my hand. “They are most powerful ones.” The
trip across took two days’ walk. I used my spear to fell a rabbit for our dinner, prepared a small fire to
roast its tender meat, and we drank from a silver stream at the foot of the first mountain.
Her body glistened in the morning sun like a beautiful and prized figurine as we reached the peak and made
our way down to the huge golden orb lying below. Frightened now, I pulled her to me preventing further
descent. Her mouth found mine in an urgent need for reassurance and pleasure. As we lay upon the soft
leaves under the cool breeze of the softly swaying thong trees, our bodies found each other making us one
and relieving some of the fear and anxiety of approaching the strange object. “It is right to offer ourselves as
sacrifice to the Dropa,” she moaned heavily, forcing herself deeper onto me.
“Who are the Dropa?” I asked, wishing I was not the lone Han making this strange journey with a strange
new companion into an even stranger land. “Come,” she replied, seeming less afraid now as we approached
the gleaming dome.
The sun was setting behind the mountain as we made our way through the last sparse growth of trees. Then
there before us lay an indescribable thing, half as high as the trees and reflecting the remaining light of the
day like a huge, wet, and shiny stone. I could not find words to speak of what this thing might be—a shape
completely alien to my knowledge or experience. As we stared at it, hesitant to move closer, she smiled
reassuringly. Then . . . a hole appeared in the side of the great golden thing . . . and something was moving
© 2010 Anthony M. Gullatta [All Rights Reserved]