Kane the Stone Man

I didn't need to sleep like Wahinenui to hear his voice. "Please touch me. Please." I didn't know if it was allowed, or 'kapu' as the Hawaiians say, but a quick glance around and I knew I was safe from curious eyes. I laid a hand on his forehead, caressed the smooth lava and then rubbed the ridge above his eyes. It was like touching a block of ice, he was so cold. But, then, under my hand, he warmed. I tugged my hand away in surprise, but then smiled. My hand tingled and I stroked his lava face again. "Oh, Kane," a tear trickled down my cheek, "you feel me, don't you?" My heart pounded and I touched his chest. I took a picture of my hand held over the place where his heart should be.

A cry echoed from the main hall, it was the voice of my youngest child. Startled, I pulled away from Kane and watched my daughter collect herself at the base of the staircase. She checked her leg and barked, "I'm fine, Dad!" Reluctantly, I said goodbye to Kane to check after my daughter. I kissed the top of his head, and unlike my children, he didn't squirm away or wipe off the pink mark my lipstick left. That is when I noticed bits of ivory across Kane's lava stone, pieces of bone the size of baby teeth. I shivered, pulled my hand away and said, "Goodbye."

On the ride back to the hotel, I was quiet. My family didn't seem to notice how absorbed I was in my own thoughts. We passed a beach park and I looked out my window, startled to see Kane's uneven eyes and crooked frown staring back at me in the reflection, "I know you're here, Kane. I love you, too." I don't know where the words came from, but they came. As we turned onto the street that led to the hotel, I saw Kane's face once, twice, three times scrawled upon the storefront glass. It scared me a little that he had the power to do that, but I liked how he followed me home. It made me feel safe.

That evening, I fell asleep in the giant king bed alone. I stared at the ocean spray that coated the sliding glass door that led down to the beach. Before my eyes, I watched Kane's face drawn into the moisture. I gasped, but my husband didn't bother to look up from his computer screen. He typed away at the desk by the bed. He didn't ask if the light disturbed me, but it did. I prefer complete darkness when I sleep, so I pulled the white comforter over my head and fell asleep. My last thought was of Kane, his crooked frown and dark eyes.

Kane came to me in my dreams; not made of stone this time. He was a young Hawaiian man, son of the greatest fisherman Hawaii had ever known. He loved the small village where he grew up. It was on the northern coast of the chain's largest island. Because of the fish they coaxed from the ocean, the villagers were favored above all others by the great Hawaiian king. The village never went without because the king paid handsomely for the coveted fish.

Kane's true love lived in the village as well. As children, they grew up together, playing in each other's shadows until they were deemed old enough to learn their parents' trades. When Kane was six, his father brought him along to the ocean and taught him to fish in the way of his ancestors. Kane showed natural talent.

As the years passed, Kane surpassed his father's talent for fishing. He invented ways to fish in deeper parts of the waters, parts no one prior had been able to access. Kane caught the most and biggest fish. It was rumored that the greatest Hawaiian King to ever live would only eat what Kane captured, so the villagers renamed him, "King Fisher."

Though much changed in Kane's life after his fame grew, his love for the girl stayed true. And of course, her love for him endured. The girl was beautiful, smart and a graceful dancer as well. Kane told me that her goodness made her glow from the inside. That was how she came to be known by the Hawaiian word for pearl, Mimo. When they were old enough, the families agreed to their marriage. The families planned and prepared for the event. Kane caught the most spectacular pink fish for the luau. It was like nothing that had ever been pulled from the waters, the fish was as long as a man and was covered in pink scales that glowed gold in the sun. Word spread about the unique fish and soon, the king's men came to see it. Soon after, the king's men left, taking the fish with them. And when Mimo fought the men, they took her as well, saying the King desired another wife and she would serve just fine.

Kane was heartsick. Halfway down the dry coast, Mimo wept for her lost love and the marriage that would never be. The girl's sadness enraged the prideful king. He reminded the girl that it was he who had united the Hawaiian Islands, he was a God compared to the fishing boy. The girl cried until merciful Pele came down from the mountains. Pele poured lava over the girl, lava that transformed her into a great waterfall. This way Mimo could cry in peace for all the days to come.

This angered the king even more. His new wife taken by Pele, and yet the fishing boy still lived! Seeking vengeance, the king called upon the high priest of Molokai, the island where the magic had been mastered. At the king's demand, the priest turned Kane into stone and buried him under the sands where for all eternity he would never die, but he would also never feel again, not caress of a sunray nor the touch of a human hand.

As I walked, I worried I'd left the hotel door open, that my children would be sad when they found I was gone. Kane continued to recite his story to me slowly so I could record all of his words. I remember passing by people on that dark walk to the museum, families, and it made me miss my own children. I longed to kiss them as they slept, the only time they tolerated my touch. I cried as I walked and begged Kane to understand why I had to turn back. But then Kane told me of his secret magic. He swore that the Molokai priest's magic lived on inside him. With it, Kane promised me he would make my most deep-felt wish come true.

I followed his voice through the streets and with the moon lighting my path, I found my way back to the Bishop museum. I knew what I wanted more than anything and I prayed that Kane was right; his power would be strong enough to make my family take note of me at last. Kane's voice was so gentle as I mounted the last steps into the unlocked doors of the Hawaiian Hall. 

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The next day a family visiting from Washington filed a missing person's report with the Honolulu Police Department. 

Staff at the Bishop Museum were baffled by the new stone figure that appeared beside Kane. Even more puzzling were the pages of a journal littered across the base of the new figure.

"We will call her Mimo."

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THE END