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Patience Pays Off at the Bottom of the Tree (Fiction)

September 30, 2019 by admin

“Hey! I thought you wanted to see!” Leon protested, pulling away from the old tree, sitting back on his haunches.

“See what, dork? There’s nothin’ to see but your mama’s underwear.”

Reggie laughed, high and grating, the two other boys did the same before grabbing their bikes and heading down the dirt road.

Leon bent back to the hole in the tree, defeated. He’d lost his chance. If this secret wasn’t enough to get the bigger, cooler kids to accept him, nothing was.

“Where are you?” He whined to the tree, then hit the base with the heel of his hand, knowing instantly it was wrong. “Sorry,” he whispered.

Two green eyes glowed then and Leon’s heart skipped up into his throat.

“That’s it, come out, I won’t hurt you.”

He sat cross-legged on the dead grass and waited patiently, quietly.

The tongue darted out of the hole, its long purple loop tasting the air, once, twice, then again. Leon pressed himself down into the grass, as calm as his twelve year old body would allow.

Eventually the creature made its cautious way out of the hole. The massive paws reminded Leon of his Labrador Stella when she’d been young, big and bulky, although these were more catlike and covered in a dark green fur. Leon waited for what seemed an eternity before it finally came all the way out, its head slinking, its ears down.

“Come on, buddy,” Leon whispered and patted his lap. “It’ okay.”

The weight of it felt good when the creature finally turned a loop and dropped into Leon’s lap. He brushed his hand down the coat and watched in wonder as it turned a deep purple.

“Who needs those guys, anyway?” he whispered. 

The creature purred in reply.

Filed Under: Blog Tagged With: fantasy, microfiction, ya

The Misty Realms of Darkness

September 23, 2019 by admin

…Otherwise known as the Autumn Equinox…

Today is that day of the year which for most people signals the beginning of fall (unless you live in Texas where it means there’s probably only another month of torturous heat in store.) In honor of the occasion, first a mythic story, and then a microfiction of my reimagining of said event.

Heading for the Misty Realms of Darkness

He [Zeus] assented that your daughter, every time the season comes round,
            would spend a third portion of the year in the realms of dark mist underneath, and the other two thirds in your company and that of the other immortals.
            He has assented to all this with the nod of his head.
            So come, my child! Obey! Do not be too stubborn in your anger at the dark-clouded son of Kronos. Straightaway make the harvest grow, that life-bringer for humans.”
       So she spoke, and Demeter, she with the beautiful garlands in her hair, did not disobey. 
            Straightaway she sent up the harvest from the land with its rich clods of earth.
            And all the wide earth with leaves and blossoms was laden.

Homeric Hymn to demeter
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Poor Persephone. All she wanted to do was sniff the flowers. But Hades had other plans for her. And so he intoxicated her with the smell of narcissus, then dragged her down to the underworld with him. Persephone definitely needs her #metoo moment.

Persephone’s mother, Demeter, was distraught at losing her daughter. Demeter, who is in charge of providing crops to us poor sad sops called humans, was so upset over the theft of Persephone that she stopped growing crops and went on a tear around the world and even up to the clouds where Zeus and his ilk reveled. She demanded the return of sweet Persephone or nobody would be eating anytime soon.

Trouble for both Gods and mortals, it seems.

So Zeus told Hades to behave, and Hades said, sure bro, no problem. But before he sent Persephone back to her grieving mother and put an end to the death of the crops, Hades pulled a mean trick and gave Persephone pomegranates from the underworld. So now every year for three months poor Persephone must return to the underworld and her unchosen lover, so that we all might have pumpkin spiced lattes and bonfires. Or so the crops can lie fallow, your choice.


And now, a microfiction, my reimagining of part of the story. Enjoy!

Autumn Born

“What are you looking at?” The stranger asks.

“Nothing. Everything.”

She barely notices him until his knees hit the dirt beside her. Once she looks, she can’t look away. Clouds skitter over his pupils, the only sign of that internal darkness pulsing within.

“I hear they smell exceedingly sweet.”

She bends her head, firmly under his suggestion, already lost, sniffing deep the yellow petals. Is it his eyes? The scent?

No matter. What’s done is done. 

Flower abandoned, an eternal cycle is set in motion, the barren world once again awaits the pomegranate daughter’s return.

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Filed Under: Blog

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