Mythically Female

Photo credit: http://www.mythicalcreatures.com

Within every woman lies a mythical beast.  She portrays herself in a wrap of human clothing.  The flesh is an illusion.   Their hidden treasures include a path to Hades.  A rather rambunctious sojourn and longer than any ride should be. 

I raise a glass.  My bar patrons are rather oblivious to me.  The rest of the world is oblivious to them.   I feel ambivalent.  I should feel drunk.  I suspect my glass is defective.  Maybe ice has devoured the alcohol.

I cast my weary eyes to the barmaid.  Even brooding, they mock me.  I suspect last time may tip was insufficient.  

“Bitch.” I lose the words.  

She didn’t notice.  She does smile…

I’ll celebrate her hearing me.  My glass gives up the party quickly.

The ice melts but I spy creatures inside.  They must be female.  Chimera, Griffin, Thunderbird, Manticore, Roc.  They all suck the life out of me.  But maybe the worst of all awaits me at home.  She’s a hydra.  Spit out of the sea….straight from the gates of Hades.  Explains the icy salt water in the veins.

I will have another.  Maybe three more.  I need to gather my thoughts.  I hoped the alcohol would help.  Divergence rules the memory.  It protects me.  I hide from the facts.  Darkness is the cloak within me.

The clock draws slow.  I wait watching the treachery of the she beasts.  A look for a drink.  Boring conversation.. two drinks.   We wait for them to get desperate. They prey on our souls.  Chewing and demolition of the heart, not enough.

Nervousness hits like a wave.  My phone lights up.  It’s her.  My head hits the bar.

“Dear God!” I scream.

The whole bar looks at me.

I look at the phone.

She has three heads.  She has three heads.  

I used a machete.  It was a clean cut.   I saw it sorta roll to the floor.  It was over.

She really is a hydra.

The text….

‘I’ll be waiting for you’

Beaver Log

“It was upon the Full Beaver Moon.  The spirits convened.  It was the North wind they called.  His creature. His law.  Soft winds from other points came first.  They danced.  Their fingers reaching into the fire.  Slowly pulling out long past memories from the embers of the glowing wood.  The sparks tell of the great beaver that decimated the forest.” Joseph looks about his nephews.

Their young faces listening because they are without phone reception.  The downed tree means little to them.  Their uncle sees it as a monument.  It is magically. Not alive as the tree but the actual mythical beast.

“The spirit never leaves.  The Great Spirit sees to that.  The land cried at the loss of the forest.  Deer and elk long left.  The black bear followed.  Eagles and Hawks cried at their nests taken.  The Beaver built a great house.  Ten times what our people have.  He hoarded the water.  He fell every tree.  Day and night he chews.  He drags his wooden treasure.  Stacked high.The animals called the spirits.  The spirits came here.  They cried for the mighty loss. The North wind came down.  He stands canyon wall tall.  He lifted to the top from the beaver’s home.” Joseph stops to collect his nephews attention.

“The Beaver, much like you.  He sees not the problem caused but his gain.  The North wind asked why every tree. The Beaver said you put them there for me.  The North wind responded by making him the tree.  The forest and animals, now safe, slowly returns.” Joseph spreads his hands wide.

“Can we go get something to eat now?” Greg looks up from his baseball cap.   His patience long carried down stream.

Life Again 

They said that they did not die but woke from a dream that they had lived .    Aztec netherworld legend

I awake.  Barely conscious.  The long drawn out haze parts slowly like morning fog on a lake.  I am confused by my location, not by my surrounds.  The path of mental resistance is strewn with boulders of my own making.  The sterile smell hides hospital reality from noone.

My eyes reach for the familiar faces.  I know the judgement waiting.  The ruddy glow of relief I have not perished. The moral compass of why on earth is do this over and over again.   It’s self fulfilling.  Who amongst them coves to see the rebirth.  Broken people understand.   Fixed people  never will. 

Today, my comeuppance has arrived.  My family isn’t here.  lI can’t rationalize what I see.   A man… His features dark and stern.  His eyes are not human.   His head starts human but more rounded and drawn back with a hair wrapped in colorful feathers  falling over the shoulders. 

“I don’t know you.” My voice rough, breathing tube having something do with it.  “Who, or what are you doing …here?”  

The figure raises up to some seven feet tall.  His head and feathers extend into a fierce display of strength.   His dark eyes and dark tanned flesh seen to burn into me.  He turns rather than look straight at me.   He paces around the bed silent.  Three times he circles.

“You are mine.  I’m not happy. I admit this. You have entered my house.   You are not scheduled for many moons to come.  You are not deserving of this spot.   What have you accomplished to claim on eternal place? I search.  I destroy.  Souls like yours are feed for darkness.  Here we sit.”  He that has no Earthy name speaks in deep rumbles.

“I didn’t ask for this…   Really.  I ..” A voice rises from within.

“Silence!” The voice causes lights to dim. “You do not need add nothing.   That’s all you have added to this point.   Take, use,  look for more.  Ask for pity.  Blame others when pity does not met you.  Why should pity waste time on self loathing?  Does not people who try deserve pity?  Can a designed fail get noticed when the free living struggle?  You are a lead weight.  The stone at the bottom of a well.”

“But I am suppose to be dead.  I took a bottle of pills and drank” I try to reason. 

“Silence!  I have a black obsidian knife.  It’ll make cubes from that tongue.  You have cruised into my world.   I’m your master.  I control ever breath.  I will control every motion henceforth.  You will wish you succeeded.  Because you only suffered in your mind.  You only thought of the struggles.  Never tasted your own blood.   Never felt your heart bruise!  Do you want to feel the bruising?  I can lift it beating. … I can hold it high. Your eyes can witness the last beat.  It releases both of us.” His demeanor is the blackest darkness.  He holds the scabbard of a sheathed blade, hoping to produce it.   There’s a nervousness and eventuality his motion. 

I pass out.  Cowardly of self preservation.  The hope that this was dreamland run a mock.  Please, this time let the illusions be just that. 

My eyes see an elderly woman.  Way too tried.   Her eyes are clouded.   Her senses dulled from the routine of it all.   Her shadow has feathers.  

“I’m awake.   The dead won’t claim me anytime soon.  Sorry, but I got lost.”  I find a voice reminiscent of Kansas and little dogs. 

“Remember, you belong to me!  How are you doing ?   I was worried.” Mother’s voice slowly returns to where it should be. 

My heart pauses.  My eyes search for the obsidian knife.

Wordle #119-Waiting for the Boat 

1. Fetus

2. Damage

3. Backlit

4. Resonance

5. Bitter

6. Fidget

7. Skiff (any of various types of boats small enough for sailing or rowing byoneperson.)

8. Protrude

9. Anechdoche (n. a conversation in which everyone is talking but nobody is listening, simply overlaying disconnected words like a game of Scrabble, with each player borrowing bits of other anecdotes as a way to increase their own score, until we all run out of things to say.)

10. Damselfly

11. Transmigration (the passage of a soul after death into another body;metempsychosis.)

12. Careen

Use at least 10 of the words to create a story or poem

The words can appear in an alternate form

Use the words in any order that you like.

Tag: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie and Wordle

Like a fetus protruding into the world.  My thoughts fidget, damselfly wings backlit by bitter anechdoche.  Messages careen filled of damaged resonance.

I await my transmigration, however there’s no skiff on the River Styx today.

Here be the Dragons

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“The first one was a surprise…” his voice breaks down.  The mix is part agony, part excitement.

“We thought the fresh bone…well it was fake.  Plenty of dragon stories.  Myths, centuries old.   Even the movies,  the Lost World to Jurassic Park.  Dinosaurs, dragons, scary monsters living off in some dark corner.  Never did one mean finding several.   All intact, all with DNA inside.”  His voice goes again.

“Sir, am I asking what happened to Dr Tollivar?!  I don’t want a history lesson.   Where is he? And explain why you are covered in his blood.”  Deputy Phillips glares at him.  No scientist is passing on a living dragon story in his county.

“I told you.   It’s a dragon!   This is one of the forearm bones.  The ulnar, just like yours here.  They’re out there.  Feeding on each other to too!”  Professor Dewey is lead away in cuffs.

He doesn’t seem to notice.

https://rogershipp.wordpress.com/2016/06/09/5826/

Quite Challenge -Day Three

It suits me well,” he said, “to take a blow from thee, but first you must swear that you will seek me out in twelve months and a day, so I can give back what I received from you.”The Green Knight to Sir Gawain, the Canterberry Tales by Chauncer

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I would like to thank Angela, https://iammyownisland.wordpress.com,
for nominating me.
Rules stolen from another blog.
Rules for the challenge:

Post one of your favourite quotes(different quote on each day) on three consecutive days. The quote can be from your favourite book, author, or your own.
Nominate three bloggers to challenge them.
Thank the blogger, who nominated you
Oh those greedy aspirations of easy reward from little effort!  My extremely tall friend green knight bows and lets Sir Gawain take an axe to his neck.  Then promptly puts his head back on.  Laughs and disappears into the night from which he came.  He knows that a Knight of the Roundtable is duty bound to honor that in a year and a day what will happen.

So what does this say about us?  All fairy tales, legends, myths have a parable feature.  Ok, the obvious choice never trust a Green Knight with an axe.  But maybe if the deal makes no sense you should question what the hell is going on here?  Maybe an organized group make bad decisions when the leader gets questioned and no one will speak up for them.  Wait, I have the answer in the clarity of the old English that it was originally penned.  Don’t let pride make your decision for you!

See we have King Arthur.  He’s hanging out with a bunch of his Knights.  They are carrying on about their exploits.  Beer or mead is involved.  A strange guy, uninvited walks in and says a have a challenge.  You cut off my head and in 366 days, I’ll come back and return the favor.  Rather than anyone step up.  The king jumps to act because their honor dies if the challenge goes unmet.  The youngest needing to make a name for himself jumps to the chance.  The king isn’t happy his nephew does this, but hey honor is honor.

Group pride!  See where it gets you.  You head whacked off by a Green Knight on a day you know is coming because you needed to make a name for yourself!  Life lesson – never have your head served on a platter because of others.

Where the hell was Merlin anyway?  I bet Morgana had a thing with the Green Knight.  But that’s a different story.  And I’m out of days for this Quote Challenge

But before I leave, the list of three more people.  This is voluntary and fun

Christina, http so://blogging0380.wordpress.com

Amanda, https://justinqueso.wordpress.com

Hammad, https://hammadrais.wordpress.com

Wordle #108

Week 108
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1.Genie
2. Wear
3. Flask
4.Bleed
5. Amethyst
6. Crease
7. Sidereal (determined by or from the stars, relating to the stars)
8. Duration
9. Rubatosis (n. the unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat, whose tenuous muscular throbbing feels less like a metronome than a nervous ditty your heart is tapping to itself, the kind that people compulsively hum or sing while walking in complete darkness, as if to casually remind the outside world, I’m here, I’m here, I’m here.)
10. Drawback
11. Furious
12. Wish (I couldn’t find the last word so if you do let me know!)
Use at least 10 of the words to create a story or poem
The words can appear in an alternate form
Use the words in any order that you like.
Tag: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie and Wordle

My genie exits the flask furious. The red glow turns amethyst. His face creases.  The gown he wears is drawback tight.

I draw again my flask.  The 101 proof whiskey tastes like water.  My ears enjoy the rubatosis.  The pounding of the heart in the ears. I wish I could always hear it.  To know I’m still alive.  Hope has bleed me dry too often.

“I follow the duration of Orion in the sky.  My sidereal powers limit your wish until I see the starry sky.  Hold your wish.  If you try before I see the stars.  I can turn on you.  Careful, Elliot.”  The genie speaks

No Sacrifice

Sacrifice

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Grey clouds stream in from the blue ocean water.  The tropical humidity parts to bring cold breezes to the base of Coba.  A hundred and seventy feet above the jungle floors three figures watch the skies.

Dressed in skins, hair covered by trailing headrest with blue and green parrot feathers, Alom looks very disturbed by the scene unfolding.   He looks to Balam, his king, dressed in gold covered cloth.   His face tells the king no.   The king stays motionless.

Ixtab paces in circles around the narrow parameter of the steep pyramid.  Her gait widespread.  Her body relaxes as the herbal sedatives do the magic.   She is ignored by the men.  She is oblivious to the sky.

Alom walks to face the king.   He bows.

“My king.  The sacrifice is tainted.  The gods are not accepting her.  Your Sky  Father comes down but his fire does not reach the Earth.  I can replace her.   Not today.  Three days until next window.”  Alom nods and returns to the front of pyramid.

“Do I fly today?” A gentle voice carries into the wind. Ixtab stops her strides.

“No.  You return to me!  The Sky Father rejects you!” Alom smiles inside.  This is not the sacrifice he wanted to give up.

The trio walk to the edge of a series of foot high stones plunging below.  They nod to the crowd waiting to see their God satisfied.  With a couple waves of a red feathered fan, the news is delivered.  No Sacrifice today.

Atlas Jr

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Photo credit: Mom the obscure

Written as part of a challenge called Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers, https://flashfictionforaspiringwriters.wordpress.com/2016/05/02/fffaw-week-of-05-03-2016/

Atlas junior never quite fit in.   When you born after Dad gets sentenced to hold up the heavens, history forgets you.  The strongest kids always get tested.   Fighting gets you so far in life.  

A drop of school, militia, and job after job.   The young man grows old quick.   Hope fizzles.  The chance to fit in finally presents itself.   The family blood lines stay true.

The chip off the old block looks across the Straits of Gibraltar.  Before him the edge of Gaia, the Atlas Mountains.  On his back the bridge of sighs.