Rain Rain Go Away

Prompt: I never knew | Word Count: 1800 Words Exactly | Genre: Fiction
Due August 8, 2018


Mama used to like to say it was raining cats and dogs whenever it stormed like this when I was small. When the wind and rain came down so hard it near blew the trailer apart. Lightning would reveal Mama setting buckets out to collect rainwater leaking from the roof, while me and Dougie would make faces and giggle at each other, cause we never did see no cats or dogs in those storms.

The storm tonight puts me in mind of that old trailer. God, how I long for the security Mama gave us, no matter how false that security turned out to be. I wish I had one of them old buckets, too. I’d collect some of the rainwater pouring in sheets off the bridge. It’d be good to clean the mud off myself after I slipped down the embankment on my way home from the soup kitchen.

I’m sitting in one of my bag chairs, looking at my rickety tent and worrying about the rising river, ‘cause it sure looks like it might overflow before long. George’s tent is still pitched about three yards away, though, so I figure if the older man thinks it's safe to stay, I should take his lead.

Lightning streaks across the sky. There he is, standing before me as if I’ve conjured him out of my musings. Except… It’s not George. Nor anyone I'd served at the kitchen tonight.

A strong, distinctive scent of cologne drifts on the wind. Sudden anxiety overtakes me as broken memories bombard my mind; Daddy touching me, hurting me. My whole body is instantly trembling, and I struggle to remember I am no longer that twelve year old girl. Concentrating to slow my breathing delays the moment when recognition comes and I realize this isn’t Daddy standing before me, although the resemblance is strong.

"Dougie?”

“My name is Douglas.” I hear disdain, or disgust, in his voice as he surveys my surroundings. “What are you doing out here, Marilyn? It’s raining cats and dogs.”

At that I make a face at him, like I’d done when we were small, and that sets me off to giggling.

I catch the sneer on his face before he wipes it clear. I suspect my face has gone white as a ghost.

“Well, don’t just stand there,” I say, trying to regain my composure and hide the panic his sudden appearance has caused. I pat the empty chair beside me for him to sit. “You might as well come on in out of the rain. What brings you out on a night like this?”

He eyes the wobbly chair critically, but folds his tall, lanky form cautiously into it. “I was looking for you.”

“Yeah? You ain't never bothered to come lookin for me before.”

“How can you think that? Marilyn, we never stopped looking for you.”

“Really? Who were you lookin’ for me with? It sure wasn’t Mama. Last I saw her, she was lyin’ dead on the floor with a needle sticking outa her arm. Even though we all knew Mama didn't use drugs. How come it took you ten years to find me?”

“Listen, Marilyn,” he raises both hands in a gesture of peace, “I’ve got a suite at the Nines downtown. Let’s go get some food and get you into a shower. After you’ve had some sleep, we can make a fresh start in the morning. How would that be?”

The Nines! Huh! Little brother made it good in life if he can afford to stay at the most expensive hotel in Portland. I should be happy for him, I suppose. But, God, he looks so much like Daddy, in his suit and tie, all clean shaven and clean cut. Like the man in my nightmares.

I can imagine what he must think of me. Torn jeans and thrift shop dress two sizes too big, covering the three layers of shirts I wear for warmth. My thick golden hair dull and unkempt.

There’s that scent again. The same fragrance Daddy wore when he hurt me. That smell had been in the kitchen that day I found Mama, too. I want to shrink back into myself and hide.

But this is Dougie. Not Daddy. Surely my little brother isn’t here to hurt me.

“Why don't you just tell me why you're here?”

“Really, Marilyn; I must insist...”

“You ok out there, Mare?” George’s familiar, gravelly voice cuts across the wind. I feel my stomach begin to unclench slightly as the older man climbs out of his tent. His long gray hair blows wild in the wind. He has on a sweatshirt and thick pajama bottoms and his feet are bare. He is a most welcome sight.

I only met George a few weeks ago. He arrived the same day I set up my tent here under the bridge, when he pitched his next to mine. There was something about the ex-vet that put me at ease immediately; told me I could trust him implicitly. I’ve never met anyone like him. George exudes a sense of security I imagine a real father might offer a daughter. He calls himself my guardian angel. A few nights ago I even found myself telling him my story, though I’ve never told it to anyone else. Not in the ten years since I left home after finding Mama ODd in the kitchen when I was sixteen.

He hadn’t teased me about how naïve I’d been, thinking I could just go to Hollywood and become a famous actress. I thought it would be simple. I’d always done so well in drama and played the lead role in several productions. My school friends called me Marilyn Monroe; probably because of my beautiful blonde hair and slim, curvy figure. But I used up all my money on the bus ride from Atlanta, and once I’d arrived in Los Angeles I had no idea how to go about landing an acting job. I hooked up with a guy who suggested I do some modeling for him, but that put me in a bad situation and George says I was lucky to get away. I hadn’t shared the details with him, but I’m pretty sure he can guess.

After that I found refuge at a woman’s shelter and was so grateful for the care and protection I received that I began helping out in the kitchen, cleaning rooms, and babysitting. I was there eight months; until Daddy appeared one day and I managed to escape before he found me. Fear has kept me on the move since then, where I continue serving at shelters across Northern California and Oregon.

George clears his throat, bringing me back to the moment. “Are you going to introduce me to your friend?”

“Uh. Sure. George, this is my brother, Dougie.”

“It’s Douglas.” The chair falls over as he stands, extending his hand to George. “Douglas Dempsey.”

The older man gives Dougie a long stare, but I can’t tell what he’s thinking. It must have been a pretty firm grip, though, ‘cause I can see Dougie wince.

“Why don’t I leave you two to talk,” George suggests, “but holler if you need me.” He turns a look on Dougie and warns, in a low tone, “If you hurt her, you’re history.”

We remain standing after George leaves, and for a moment we just listen to the incessant rain and the muffled traffic on the bridge overhead.

“Dougie, how’d you find me?” I’d worked so hard to stay off grid.

“It wasn’t easy; I can tell you that. With no identify to trace, and no criminal record, it’s like Marilyn Dempsey never existed. Last week, though, a background check was run on you at the Portland Rescue Mission. I take it you volunteer there? Marilyn, what are you hiding from?”

The sudden change of topic takes me by surprise, and for a brief, unguarded moment I remember the little boy I’d left behind. I close my heart against it, though, not wanting to delve into the past I worked so hard to leave behind.

“Just tell me why you’re here, Dougie. Why now, after all this time?”

“Is it not enough that you’re my sister, and I’ve finally found you? God, Marilyn. I never knew why you left me, when Mama died. Father said it was because you were confused, and suffered from delusions. He would have gotten you help if you had stayed.”

I can imagine! Just like he helped Mama.

“Father’s a tough man, you know. He set high expectations for me, and even though I disappointed him, he gave me a good life, with education and privilege. Not something Mama could have ever given us. Or achieved on our own.”

There’s that disdain, again.

I see no sense in convincing him of the education and privilege I’ve gained in caring for others with the generosity of my time.

“So here’s the thing, Marilyn,” he’s all business now, “Grandma Dempsey passed away last year. She left an inheritance to us, and as soon as we present ourselves to her attorney we’ll split a half million dollars.”

I feel my eyes widen at the thought of so much money. “Wow!” I begin to understand why he’s taken the time to find me. “I take it we’re required to present ourselves together?”

His eyes narrow and there’s annoyance in his stance. I can feel tension radiating off him now, humming in the air like electricity preceding a lightning strike. “Will that be a problem? It’s a half million dollars.”

“What about Daddy?”

“Father won’t be there. You don’t even have to see him.” He looks away, studying the river and rubbing his neck. Another waft of cologne drifts my way. “Come with me, Marilyn. I’ve made all the arrangements.”

Thunder rumbles in the distance and the rain increases in fury. Like my heartbeat.

I hesitate for a moment, then make up my mind. It won’t right the wrongs of the past, but it would make me feel a whole lot better.

“Hey George! Did you hear! Dougie says I’m gonna be rich!”

Dougie visibly relaxes at this, and smiles when I ask, “What room are you in? I’ll pack my things and meet you there in the morning.”

He tries his best to persuade me to come with him right now, but eventually I convince him to go away.

“Well?” George pops his head out of his tent as soon as Dougie is gone.

“I think if you hadn’t been here tonight, I might have ended up in the river!” I shudder, and begin stuffing my chair into its bag.

“Marilyn Monroe, indeed!” says my new Guardian Angel, stuffing my other chair into its bag. “So, Spokane?

“Actually, I think I’d prefer Seattle.”

Hide and Seek

Prompt: Forbidden Places | Word Count: 1800 Words Exactly | Genre: Fantasy


The image came clearly into Etha’s mind. An Elbrus crystal, set into a niche in a cave wall, illuminating a portion of the sleeping chamber that Agua shared with his half-brother Pyre, and the other unattached young men of the Kuran tribe.

“Too easy!” Etha sent the thought back through the mindlink, glancing over at Pyre to see if he had recognized the image as well. Her cousin, seated across from her, had his eyes closed and seemingly hadn’t heard her through the link. That was fine with her, Etha thought, triumphantly. Rising quietly, she left Pyre behind as she set off to claim the victory by being the first to find Agua at the location he’d projected.

It was a new game they’d invented to practice their skills of imagery and mindspeak. A game similar to one they’d played as children, hiding from the chosen one who would then seek them out. Back when they were children, they hadn’t known they had these gifts that allowed them to see out of the other’s eyes. In this new game, the chosen one would hide, sending images of their location for the others to find.

But Agua wasn’t in the room when Etha arrived at his bedchamber.

“No fair!” She communicated her indignation through the link, annoyed with Agua’s mirth at having deceived her. He projected a new image to her, of Pyre sitting beside him in the meal room, sharing a mid-morning snack together. “You cheated!”

“It’s not cheating,” she could hear the smugness in Pyre’s thought. “You just didn’t use any of your other senses to confirm that the image was true. Otherwise, you would have smelled the aurochs roasting on the spit and known Agua wasn’t really in the bedchamber. You should come get some, it’s quite good.”

“No thanks. I’d rather see if Dar will let me go out to look for Sasha instead.”

But her father would have none of that.

Sasha was an orphaned wolf pup she’d found and named on her way home from Riana Valley at the end of summer, four moons before. It was deep winter now, and Etha hadn’t seen Sasha for over two moons, not since First Storm had driven the tribe into winter sanctuary within the caves at Eagle Peak.

“Why can’t I just go check the traps, and see if he’s around?” Etha argued with her father when he denied her request. “I’m worried about him, Dar. He’s just a cub. Sasha can’t be more than six moons old, and he’s got no one to teach him how to hunt. How will he survive the winter?”


“Etha. I said no. It’s a wild beast. It’s instincts are to hunt and to kill. Just because it seemed friendly and followed you home, doesn’t change the nature of what it is. It could hurt you. I’ll not have you continue this attachment. It’s not safe.”

Angry and disappointed, Etha went to her bedchamber, rebelliously thinking of seeking out the wolf in her mind instead, thinking to use her link with Gaea.

Etha had discovered that she could bond with Gaea during her last training session at Riana, at the end of summer. By matching and melding her own rhythm and pulse with Earth’s vibrations, and imagining her spirit sinking down into the earth, she’d discovered a thriving labyrinth of interconnected roots and undergrowth. Tracing these up through earth’s crust and into living plants, she acquired a rare sight and awareness into the life that abounded in Gaea’s realm. She’d only done it the one time, and didn’t understand how this bond was to be used. The gift was so rare that neither Madra, the Rianan Leader, nor Madra’s sister, Celynn, had any idea how to aid in Etha’s training. Elder Celynn had strictly forbidden Etha to attempt to use this skill unless someone was present with her.

Even so, Etha was going to try it now.

She lay upon her bedroll, stilling her rebellious thoughts and opening her mind to Gaea, as she had learned to do. It took but moments to send her psyche down through the layers of earth, merging into the rhythm that she found pulsing through the undergrowth. Roots branched off into many directions, and Etha chose one that led westward, as that was the direction she’d last seen Sasha. She traced the vibrations up through earth’s crust and into the branches and the bushes not yet weighed down below the last two moons of snowfall.

Etha imagined the wolf curled up under a copse of trees, lying upon a soft bed of needles; away from the snow and the ice and the freezing wind. She imagined herself sitting beside him, stroking his soft fur with his head in her lap, though this was not a thing that had ever occurred before. Not in her lifetime, nor that of any living tribesperson, nor any ancestor that had come before.

She found him in a small cave at the far west of Eagle Peak. The mountain was riddled with such openings, though only eight entrances were large enough for the people to traverse, connecting to the inner pathways leading to the many chambers and caverns that gave home to the twenty-two families of the Kuran tribe.

“Sasha.” Etha excitedly whispered his name in her mind, filling her presence into the space surrounding the wolf; knowing herself connected to Gaea, and thus to the earth upon which he lay. The wolf’s pale green eyes opened, as if sensing her presence. His tail wagged, and she could hear the soft exhalation of his breath. She couldn’t touch him, but Etha could see him in her mind’s eye, his small body curled in a ball, head resting on crossed paws. His white fur gleamed in the thin light penetrating the den.

Scraps of fur and bone lay in the space beside him, the remains of some small animal he’d recently fed upon. Etha rejoiced in this triumph, evidence that he was learning the skills a young wolf would need to survive alone and hoping it would be enough to get him through the winter.

It had taken mere moments to find the wolf cub in her trance. Having satisfied herself that Sasha was safe and that she now knew where to find him, and that should could trace him at will, Etha rashly decided to see how far she could extend her reach.

Where ever bush or branch or leaf touched, there she could roam. Etha thought this must be what a bird might feel, soaring among the tops of the trees. Or she imagined a leopard, leaping from branch to branch. Etha had never felt such exhilaration before. She laughed in sheer joy, exalting in the freedom of movement and the expanse of Gaea’s world.

Finally, the forest tapered off to rock and boulder and ice, and she had to stop to assess her position. Etha hadn’t realized she’d gone so far east, nor climbed so high, so fast. She saw that she was near the South-eastern border of Kakaesia. Above her loomed the colossal ice wall that amassed over and between the mountain peaks, effectively closing off Kakaesia from the lands and the people that existed to the south. Etha knew she would find a similar border to the north as well, where the mountains were higher and the ice wall even thicker than it was here in the south.

Etha felt infinitesimal in comparison to the huge mountain towering above her, especially as she surveyed the ice and the snow that seemed to reach out beyond the bounds of the ridge in ominous proportion. Thick clouds had begun to close in around her, along with a heavy snowfall that impeded her sight.

Suddenly, she felt a tug upon her being. As though Gaea was trying to gain her attention, pulling upon her awareness and communicating some need that Etha failed to interpret. The pull intensified, an agitation that belied the odd quiescence that seemed also to have settled in the air around her, filling her with a heightened sense of immediacy that contrasted with the stillness.

In the next moment a tremor rocked the mountain, sharp and severe and violent. A rush of noise deafened her senses as a mass of snow and ice and rock dislodged from above, falling rapidly down from the ridge above and engulfing her in its wake.

Etha screamed in fear as her mind lost its hold upon Gaea and became submerged instead in the avalanche that she witnessed from afar. Having no experience with her gift, Etha didn’t know how to separate herself from the barrage that now pummeled her senses. She no longer remembered that she had a body, lying safe and warm upon a bed in a cave further west along this mountain range. Down and down and down she fell, tumbling and plunging down the mountainside until finally the avalanche lost its momentum and settled amidst a cloud of dust and dirt, and freshly falling snowflakes.

Stunned and disoriented, Etha struggled to gain back a sense of consciousness. Panic filled her mind, tricking her into thinking that she lay trapped under the snow and the ice. But through it all there was a sense of weightlessness, and she began to realize that if she truly was buried under the snow she would feel its weight. Should feel the cold.

But she did not feel these things.

She thought of Pyre, then, of what he had said about using all her senses to seek out the truth of an image; and as she thought of her cousin she regained an awareness of where she was. Of who she was. She forced herself to calm her racing heart, focusing and finding again the rhythm that was Gaea’s. Matching Earth’s vibrations to her own, Etha used it as a guide to return to her own body, lying in a bedchamber inside Eagle Peak.

She lay there for a while, deeply shaken and frightened by the experience. She thought of the joy she had felt, finding Sasha in the link, then soaring among the trees. But the memory of being violently dislodged from Gaea unnerved Etha, leaving her uncertain if she’d ever be brave enough to bond with Gaea again. Celynn would be furious with her.

After a time, Etha reached out to Pyre and Agua, seeking the familiarity of their presence in her mind. Surprisingly, she found them still in the meal room.

“Etha! Were you hiding? We couldn’t find you.”

“No. Not hiding. But stay there, will you? I’m on my way and I’ll tell you all about it. Maybe see if Celynn can come, too. And slice me off a piece of that aurochs. I hear it’s quite good.”

The Crossing

Etha was the first to arrive at the clearing, a heavy deerhide bag slung over her shoulder, a long spear that doubled as a walking stick held lightly in her hand. She was dressed for travel, in fur-lined leggings under a heavy goatskin tunic, and hide boots with thick soles made for long distance trekking. She loved to journey, and hoped the others would arrive soon.

Etha had come to the Riana Valley with her cousins, Pyre and Agua, four moons before. Here they’d been trained in the Rianan arts of mindspeak and imagery. The young tribeswoman had enjoyed her summer away, but she missed her family and the familiar environs of her home beyond the Kuran River, and she was ready to return.

Eventually, the others joined her, eight travelers who would escort Etha and her cousins to their home at Eagle Peak. Thin fog obscured the sun, which peeked out occasionally as they trekked steadily down out of the higher elevation of Riana towards the Kuran Riverlands. The mist cleared just as the sun edged along the horizon, and Etha saw a flight of vultures circling ominously above the next hillcrest.

“Hold up,” Tulie called out, gesturing for the travelers to slow their pace. Tulie was the unofficial leader of the group; she was the Rianan Heir and highly respected for her experience in teaching survival skills to the youth of Kakaesia.

As they crested the hill, they were astonished to observe a small wolf cub snarling and snapping in fury at a vulture as it swooped down and tried to land next to the mother wolf, which lay in a pool of blood, seeping from a fatal head wound.

“Oh, the poor thing,” Etha exclaimed, as the others came up beside her.

“It looks like she’s been gored by a hoof,” Pyre suggested.

“Maybe she attacked a herd of deer and got struck,” said another.

“I wonder what she’s doing this far west,” Tulie mused, as the cub scampered into a nearby den of rocks. "Wolves are so rare in this part of Kakaesia. Be alert. There could be others nearby."

“Curious little thing, isn’t it.” Agua admired, seeing the pup peering at them from the relative safety of its shelter.

This close, Etha could see it had pale green eyes and whitish, grey fur, like its mother; except the cub had a patch of brown fur on its chest and front paws. The markings were quite distinctive, and Etha recognized him from an encounter she had had with the young animal just a handful of days before; when she’d first learned to touch the spirit of Gaea and had celebrated the bond.

The young wolf locked eyes with Etha for a long moment, as if it remembered her too. Then, turning his gaze upon his dead mother, he gave a soft whimper and scooted away deeper into the rocks.

“We’ll stop here for the night,” Tulie decided. “Petya, you and Misha gather firewood. Bring enough to burn overnight in case there are other predators nearby.”

“What do you suggest we do with that?” Elder Celynn nodded towards the dead wolf. “It’s such a beautiful animal.”

“If we were on a hunt, it would go to whoever made the kill,” Tulie said, fidgeting in indecision.

“It would be a shame to damage such a beautiful pelt,” Pyre advised. “Davos, I hear you’re one of the best skinners in Kakaesia. Perhaps you would like it?”

It took quite a while for Davos to finish the job, and afterwards to move the carcass away from camp. They sat up late around the fire, admiring Davos’ stone and bone tools that he used so expertly; discussing the curing process that would render the pelt soft and pliable. It was quite late when the group settled down to sleep for the night.

Etha was awakened suddenly near dawn to the sound of a low, menacing growl emanating from a creature that crouched down by her leg, where it had slipped out from her bedroll. Small white teeth gleamed in the dark, beast eyes reflecting from the firelight. Etha’s heart beat erratically. She struggled to make sense of what was happening, when Pyre, in the bedroll next to Etha, used his gift to call fire and brought illumination to the scene.

Tulie was on her feet in the same moment, spear poised to throw at the creature. The wolf, however, was not growling at Etha, but at something on the ground near her exposed leg.

There, coiled and ready to strike was a large, poisonous viper.

“No!” Etha screamed, fearing the spear that flew past her head was meant for the wolf. Instead, it struck the viper dead on, causing the cub to jump back in shock, retreating quickly from the camp.

“That was close!” Agua exclaimed. “I thought the wolf was coming after you; but he may have saved your life!”

“I think so too,” Tulie sounded impressed. “I’ve never known a wild animal to protect a person before. That was amazing.”

Etha was pleased and captivated to see the cub still there in the morning, peering at her from its den. It looked hungry and forlorn. When she thought no one was watching, Etha approached the rock warren to leave a portion of her morning meal. The wolf didn’t even growl at her. She hoped the pup had been weaned off its mother’s milk and could eat the rabbit meat she’d shredded.

Agua tried to distract Etha when it was time to go, sensing her distress at leaving the cub behind, for it would not have occurred to her to try to capture or tame a wild animal. Not even one that had saved her life.


Tulie cautioned everyone to be on their guard against further wolves or predators, but aside from a herd of gazelle, there was no other sign of wildlife as they descended out of the forested hills and onto the open steppe that ran alongside the Kuran River.

Etha was enchanted when she noticed the cub following behind. Over the next few days, she found strategic places to leave bits of food for him, even though Tulie warned her not to do so. Tulie had even tried to chase the beast away when it came too near. The cub would run off to a place of safety, but Etha saw that it continued to follow them. Etha was no longer in a hurry to get home, for she had no idea what would become of the wolf when they arrived at Eagle Peak.

The river crossing ran fast and cold, but in the place of crossing it was only ankle deep and easily traversed. Etha was the last to cross, grieving to leave the cub behind, for she had grown attached to him. When she turned back, he was whimpering and howling at the river’s edge; clearly afraid of the water, and, Etha supposed, afraid of being left alone.

“Come on, Sasha,” She whispered the name, holding her breath with hope and desire. Then her heart leapt with joy when, at last, the wolf stepped boldly into the river and began a crossing of its own.

Earthsong

Earthsong 

Word Count: 2500 Words exactly Genre: Fantasy

Etha tread nervously behind the Riana Leader into the darkened interior of the cavern. Four other initiates followed behind, stumbling in the narrow passage towards an unknown destiny. Darkness swallowed light like a hungry beast. She imagined she could hear its inhalation and exhalation, feel it’s cold, musty breath on her skin. She’d never been here before. Not in all the time since she’d come to the Riana Valley for training and initiation into the elite group of the Appointed.

She brushed against the wall of the passage as it narrowed around her. She gasped as sharp rock bit into her skin like teeth, drawing blood that dripped slowly down her forearm. She wiped it against her doeskin tunic. Was Madra leading her into the belly of a beast? Would she be eaten alive, bones spat out after being sucked clean?

She shook her head, dispelling the notion, forcing her imagination into control.

Madra’s footsteps slowed, muffled in the close confines of the passage. Etha slowed as well, attuned to the leader’s movements. Tara bumped into her from behind, and from the giggles of the other girls, Etha surmised the rest of the girls had done the same with each other.

Etha sensed a shift in air pressure. It danced upon her skin, flowing around and above her, into a large, open space. Madra entered the chamber. Etha and the others followed behind.

Light filtered through the chamber like mist rising from a lake at sunrise, dim and hazy. Water dripped off thin columns of stone stretching upwards to the roof of the cavern, far above their heads. Her eyes were drawn to a small pool where bubbles rose occasionally from its depths with soft susurrations.

She could see the others shuffling about, uncertain, as she was, why they were here. What they were supposed to do.

At Madra’s instructions, the initiates settled on the ground around the pool. Normally Etha was confident and self-assured. She had always enjoyed, even thrilled at Madra’s lessons. Now she was uneasy, sensitive to the weight of the ancient mountain around her. Her heartbeat increased with anticipation, her stomach tightened, her mouth went dry. Every nerve in her body tingled, as if something momentous was about to happen

She lay on her back, arms outstretched, palms upwards, seeking to calm her nerves. Annoyed by the other initiates whispering irreverently amongst themselves.

"You may be wondering why I brought you here,” Madra said, her voice soft, modulated. Her words were swallowed by the cold, dark earth around them. By the pool that lapped at their feet.

“As part of your training these past twelve moons, you’ve learned to mind-speak, with myself and your fellow Initiates.”

The words came in a soothing singsong tone. Etha realized the Riana Leader was no longer speaking aloud.

“Of all the initiates who arrived when you did, you are the only ones who have shown the ability to reach beyond the land of Riana, to mind-speak with family or friends in your own homelands. You are to be commended. Not all can achieve this skill.”

Etha took pride in this achievement. It was required if she were to be Appointed.

“There is one last lesson, one challenge left to complete your training.”

There was a pause. Etha’s thoughts raced. What more could her mind be trained to do?

“Today, I challenge you to mind-speak with Gaea, to tap into Earth’s essence and listen for Her voice.”

The small hairs on Etha’s arms and the back of her neck quivered. Fear mingled with anticipation. Etha had felt Earth’s pull upon her, knew herself drawn to Gaea’s power, though she had no idea the extent of that power or if she might control it.  

Madra’s voice sounded in her mind again. “Settle back, now. Close your eyes and set aside your fear.”

There was a pause.

“Tune out the stray thoughts that distract you from your purpose. Slow the rhythm of your breathing and listen.”

Etha could hear someone rustling nearby. Forced herself to concentrate on Madra’s voice instead.

“Breathe in... Hear the sound of your breath within you.”

Etha took a long inhalation through her nose. It sounded loud in her ears.

“Breathe out, slowly. Slowly. Allow your thoughts to leave the confines of your body, like the exhalation of your breath.”

Etha imagined her body floating in air and darkness. It felt strange to her. She wasn’t a bird, after all, she had no wings to carry her into the sky. Her eyes opened momentarily, taking in the dim light, the mist, the ancient column of rock lifting to the roof of the chamber.

“Breathe in...

She closed her eyes again. Tuned in to Madra’s whispered suggestions.

“Breathe out. Extend your awareness towards Gaea. Reach for the rhythm of Earth’s pulse. Feel it. Match it to the rhythm of your own.”

The stone floor was cold, it radiated through her deerskin tunic and leggings. Seeped into her skin. She felt the pressure of earth’s weight pressing upon her. Etha willed her consciousness to move beyond. 

Down. Down into the depths of the earth her spirit sank, immersing and submerging her soul with the land, though she knew her body remained behind, safe and guarded by Madra.

As she drifted, she felt another presence surround her. It touched her spirit with a jolt of recognition and in that moment her psyche merged and melded with Gaea's.

She was known; no longer alone.

Gaea’s lifeblood infused within her, seeking, burrowing into Etha’s innermost soul, even as Etha pushed outwards into Gaea. She fought back panic. This was a power far greater and more infinite than Etha had ever imagined.   

She gave herself over to the experience, losing all sense of self and time as she traced Earth’s lifeblood along its course. Like arteries and veins carrying blood through her body, she felt a slow, ponderous current that flowed, sluggishly, forcefully, ever outward, thrumming with a steady beat. Etha followed this current up through the earth, up and up and up, until at last, her senses found and infused with a living network of roots and tendrils and life.   

Within this network she felt her consciousness expand even further. Twisting and twining. Pulsing and surging. Upwards, outwards, further and further, until Etha’s senses stretched beyond her capacity to comprehend. She feared she might lose herself within this network, this immeasurable being that was Gaea. Power called to her, welcoming her, nourishing her own lifeblood, gifting her with an ability to see into a hidden realm she never knew existed.  

In this state, Etha was given freedom to explore the world through Gaea’s senses. Wherever bush or branch or leaf touched, there she could travel. She still didn’t have wings to fly, yet here she was, soaring among the treetops like a bird; more like a squirrel, leaping from branch to branch. In her minds eye she could see the Riana River below her, the river and the hills, the snow-capped mountains. She narrowed her vision and lowered her focus to stride upon the forest floor, like a leopard; strong, powerful, dangerous. She encountered Madra’s daughter, Tulie training survival skills to a group of initiatives. Tulie raised her spear at the sight of the leopard, but Etha sprang further into the trees, found a raven perched on a branch and took flight, winged at last, to soar over the Riana Valley.

She had never felt such exhilaration before, connected as she was with Gaea. There was power in this touch, the ability to see the outer world from within. She hungered for it in the same way her body hungered for food.

The hunger became voracious. The potential to traverse this hidden realm was overwhelming. Were there limits to how far she could go? How far did Gaea extend? This was power beyond her comprehension; she didn’t understand it. And the more she tried, the more panicked she became. 

Alarmed, Etha struggled against Gaea’s presence, closing off her senses to all but her panic and her need for self. She forced her thoughts back into the confines of her body, lying on the cold, hard floor at the heart of the Riana Caves. 

Consciousness returned and Etha’s eyes snapped open, and though they filled with the misty light of the cave, it took a moment to disengage her senses from Gaea.

She must have made a slight sound. Movement stirred beside her. A bright, warm light pulsed from a crystal held in Madra’s hand, illuminating the Riana Leader, giving detail to their surroundings.

“Where… where are the others?" Etha asked, as awareness settled around her and she saw she was alone with Madra. 

"I sent them away," Madra answered. "They weren’t able to reach a trance state like you did.” 

Etha nodded, disoriented, unsettled. "How long have we been here?” 

“The meal bell has chimed twice since we began. Are you able to speak of your experience? Did Gaea speak to you?”

"I... I don’t know."  She found she was not ready to share the experience just yet. Needed time to absorb what had happened. "No. I’m sorry”

“Are you certain? You were ‘gone’ a long time.”

“I don’t know.” She sat up, crossed her legs, set hands on knees, palm upwards. “Have you experienced it, yourself?”

“I have not. As far as I know, only three others in all the history of Riana have ever done so. There is no shame if you did not.”

Etha shivered as her sense of self slowly returned, even as she yearned to return to that hidden realm; a desire so strong and so at odds with her fear of being consumed by Gaea.

            +++

Etha fled, driven by the need to put distance between herself and the yearning desire to connect with Gaea that yet consumed her soul. Up the narrow passage she ran, scraping and bruising legs and arms against rough walls, loosing dirt and debris as she passed.

Finally, she made it to the cave entrance. She slowed her pace as she burst out of the passage, sucking in large gusts of air as she went, not paying attention to the path at her feet until she tripped upon an up-thrust root and fell, sprawling among the brush.

Day was fading to dusk behind a low layer of clouds, heavy with the scent of fallen rain and the promise of more to come. She stared up at the rapidly moving clouds while the ground remained solid and unmoving beneath her trembling body.

A small wolf cub scampered out from beneath a bush. The wild animal made eye contact with the girl and froze in place, then scooted back into the dense brush. The action brought Etha back into the moment, connecting her again to the here and now. She felt as though she had lost something precious and was just realizing its full worth.

The gray sky contrasted with the green earth around her. She lay under a spreading canopy of low hanging branches, embraced by leafy ferns and sharp, prickly brush. Sweeping hills and snow-capped mountains graced the horizon, a sliver of light reflecting off the Riana River, snaking its way through a distant valley and the forest below. Tulie was down there, Etha knew, training survival skills to a group of initiates. 

            The sound of a stream, swollen from recent rain, teased her senses, gurgling and swishing its way down a rock-strewn bed. The ground cover was wet, the earth soft and spongy under Etha's hand. She focused upon these sensations, remembering what it felt to be merged with Gaea’s lifeblood.

And with that simple contact she found herself attuning again to Gaea, and the hidden realm that, until today, she’d never known existed. 

Etha now knew that she could merge her psyche into the splashing waters of the nearby creek, to trace Gaea's lifeblood upstream, far to the North and the East, if she chose, where the glacial walls formed the borders of her homeland of Kakaesia. Or follow its winding course down to the Riana River, where it flowed into the Black Sea, where she’d traveled once with her family. Or she could sink her spirit down into earth’s soil, find and follow the network of roots and tendrils that existed, like a hidden realm, below ground.

For some inexplicable reason, this knowledge no longer filled her with the same sense of fear Etha had felt under the crushing weight of the mountain.

Here, in the open air, where heer psyche did not need to plow sluggishly upward through layers of mountain and cave, she could simply touch the Earth Root and enter Gaea’s hidden realm.

            Earthsong erupted around and within her, a celebration of Etha's awakening awareness to Gaea’s presence and this newfound bond they shared. Gaea exulted at the joining, and Etha felt the trembling of Earth’s joy rumbling deep underground, where Her lifeblood pulsed and sang. Etha rejoiced as well. 

A flock of birds took wing in wild abandon. A herd of gazelle bounded out of the woods and into the clearing below, full of grace and beauty. Trees swayed in rhythm to the dancing wind, rustling the leaves and swirling among the waters of the stream. Crickets and frogs lifted their voices, and a wolf cub sang out in unison, a grand chorus that echoed Gaea’s delight and celebration.

She could hear Gaea’s voice in her head. “I am known! I am no longer alone.”

The Deadline

The Deadline



The phone rang, shrill and startling in the silence of her home. It took three rings to find the phone, while she forced her mind back from the far distant past, and the desperate people she’d been writing about.

Reading the number on caller ID, she clicked the speaker button. “David, how many times do I have to tell you not to call me after eight? You’re lucky I even answered."

“Maggie, sweetheart! I hope I didn’t disturb you?”

“Of course you did! I told you my inspiration had returned and that I’d be writing. What do you want?”

“Ah, Mags, don’t be so harsh. You won’t believe it, but the History Channel wants your story. They loved your outline and are intrigued by the premise. I’ve scheduled a time for you to meet with them in the morning.”

“You're kidding?” she squealed, a rush of adrenaline pushing her to her feet. “That’s fantastic! Aren’t they like the eighth network you’ve been to!”

“Indeed it was, and believe me, this was not an easy sell.”

“Yeah?” She forced a deep breath, grounded in reality. “So, what’s the catch?”

“Well…” His voice cracked, and she heard nerves behind his hesitation.

“What? David! What have you done?”

“Well, they have a slot to fill next season, and they need to start filming right away. I told them you could have the pilot to them by Monday.”

“You did what!? Are you crazy? It’s Thursday. I’ve barely written ten pages.”

“That’s great, Maggie! And you’ve got your muse back, you said so yourself. I don’t see the problem?”

“David, one episode can be up to sixty pages; most pilots are two episodes. You expect that by Monday?”

“But you already have ten pages! You know you work best under pressure; especially when your inspiration is back.”


*****

Maggie's thoughts were flowing faster than she could type, her fingers flying over the keyboard at a furious rate. She’d been working practically non-stop for the last three days, alternating between feelings of elation that her screenplay was going to be aired on TV, despair that she would never finish in time, and self-doubt that it wouldn’t be good enough.

The phone rang; a disturbance completely at odds with the scene she was writing, and scattering it into the ether.

She should have silenced the phone, Maggie thought despondently, even as she turned the device over to read the caller id.

"Hey Mom," she sighed, answering the phone and pushing back from the desk.

"Hi sweetie. I thought I should check in with you. How are you coming along with your deadline?"

"Oh, God, I don't know," she lamented, at once glad for the opportunity to vent, while mourning the lost time. "I've got about twenty pages left to go, and it won’t be accepted it if I don’t have it, in person, at the Network by 8’oclock tomorrow morning. I’m not sure I’m gonna make it."

"Of course you will! Where’s your faith?”

“I left it behind in the last scene, when my characters started acting up and refused to go where I needed them to.”

“Haha, that’s funny, dear. Just give them a stern talking to and get them back in line.” She snickered at her own joke. "Have you eaten?"

"I'm too amped to eat. What time is it, anyway?"

"It's just after 7:00; you must be engrossed in your story."

"I am! I just finished writing the earthquake scene, killing off most of the tribal leaders who were holding a meeting inside the caves of their homeland, and destroyed tons of people in tents gathered outside. It's getting desperate for these people, because their whole way of life is coming to an end, and they're panicking, because they don't yet know what they're going to do."

"Ah, but you know what's going to happen?"

"Yeah, I've got it pretty well outlined, and I'm not too far off where I need to be, but I still have twenty pages more to go, and my characters aren’t cooperating.”

“You sound as desperate as your characters.”

“You’re telling me!”

*****

“Maggie? Maggie, wake up!” A warm hand on her back gave her an insistent shake.

“Hmm? What?” She found her eyelids heavy and crusted with sleep, her neck stiff, and her cheek pressed into the keyboard.

“Darlin, you’ve got to wake up. It’s Six-Thirty, sweetheart; we need to be downtown at Eight. Wake up, damnit!”

“David? What are you doing here?” She couldn’t shake off the fog in her head. The last thing she remembered, it’d been 4:30 and she’d sent the finished episode to the printer. Her brain finally engaged, and she came upright with a jolt, her eyes focusing on the clock. 6:33. “Oh, crap!”

“Please tell me you’re finished?” Her agent, and, incidentally, her best friend, asked in a tone that brooked no argument.

“It’s on the printer,” Maggie yawned and stretched, reaching over to collect the work.

There were only about ten pages there.

“Oh shit! No! No, no!!!”

David, ever calm, peered at the readout on the printer. “It’s jammed.” He looked at his watch, then at her disheveled, panicked state. “No, settle down. Listen, Mags, I’ll get this printed while you take a shower. As long as we’re on the road by Seven, we should be ok.”

Ten minutes later Maggie returned, stylishly outfitted and running a comb through wet, curly hair.

The printer was still jammed.

She pushed David aside, investigated the inner workings of the printer and finally found a tiny sliver of paper jammed in a place it should not be.

“There,” she sighed with relief as the machine whirred to life. “Thank God it’s high speed.”

Traffic was backed up when they arrived at the interstate at 7:35, no way they could make the deadline by that route.

Chancing surface streets instead, they encountered a string of green and yellow traffic lights, like an omen of goodwill, and arrived with just five minutes to spar

Love's True Sight

Love’s True Sight
Posted on January 24, 2018 by Peggy Rockey
Prompt: The Bridge Word Count: 1200 Words Genre: Fable

Once upon a time, in a village surrounded by the deep forest of olden Bulgaria, there lived a man who was in love with a fair maiden. Mikhail Stoyanov had loved Katerina Ivanov for as many years as he had known her. Indeed, he had loved her since he first laid eyes upon her fair beauty, while he was still a young boy in knickers, and she a fair maid in pigtails.

Alas, Katerina did not appear to know that Mikhail even existed.

Eventually, the time came when Mikhail knew he wanted this fair maiden for his wife, and he arranged events so that he could meet his heart’s desire at the most romantic place in all the realm, which was an enchanting bridge that spanned the Danube River. There, with glowing words of praise and poetry, he pledged his love to the fair maiden and asked for Katerina’s hand in marriage.

But the fair maiden, being young and self-centered, fancied herself in love with another, a man ever so much more handsome and wealthy than this one; and without nary a thought to Mikhail’s feelings, she rejected him with harsh words and cruel laughter.

The hurt and the anger at this rejection burned so hotly within Mikhail’s heart, and it angered him so much that his response was perhaps more forceful than he intended. “This man does not love you the way I love you, Katerina Ivanov! May your eyes be opened to love’s true sight so you may see the truth of his heart, and see for yourself the blackness that exist within him. May love never touch your heart again, until you see with Love’s True Sight, and you come again to stand upon this bridge with love’s true sight within your heart!”

The words were said with such force and resolution that they became a binding curse upon the fair maiden. For this was a place of magic.

When, a few days later, the other man came to call upon the fair maiden, she now saw him with love’s true sight, as the curse demanded. And with the blinders of supposed love removed, Katerina now saw the true nature of Boris Gruev’s inner person. She saw that beneath his handsome good looks, his wealth, and position within the realm, Boris was, in reality, a selfish and controlling brute. Katerina saw now that what she had mistaken for charming, tongue-tied shyness, was really just contempt for women in general; and Katerina could see that Boris only pretended to love her. She knew this was true, for her father was a goldsmith, and Boris had thought that by possessing the fair maiden, he would possess her father’s gold as well.

Katerina was appalled at the situation. She wondered how she could ever have loved this man in the first place, and she called off their engagement immediately. Boris was outraged, and his displeasure at the rejection was great. He threatened to tell damaging lies to the villagers if she did not marry him, and said other hurtful words that gave truth to his nature. Despite the threats, the fair maiden remained steadfast in her refusal to marry Boris, and as a result Katerina suffered much abuse from her father and the villagers, who all believed the foul lies that Boris told about her.

Many years passed, and the fair maiden became a lonely spinster; for though Katerina had had new suitors, she was never able to see past their individual flaws without love’s forgiving sight to blind her to their nature. Her heart hardened with each suiter that she rejected, until, eventually, no one could penetrate the hardness that now encased her heart.

Over the course of time, Katerina grew more and more lonely. She attempted to make friends with the villagers, but the curse that Mikhail had unwittingly laid upon her heart did not allow even for the love of simple friendship. For with the curse she was forced to always focus on the falsehood and the insincerity that existed within the human heart. Eventually, she had shunned so many people that the opportunities for friendship had dwindled, and then disappeared altogether. Even her father barely tolerated her in his home, for she constantly berated him for his character flaws; and what man likes to be nagged in his own home, day after day after day?

Then one day, as Katerina went to market, she came across the man who had once loved her and who had put the curse upon her, all those years ago. It seemed odd that they had not encountered each other throughout the years, but perhaps not, as Mikhail would have made an effort to avoid her. Katerina thought she should have been angry with him, but to her amazement, she found no anger in her heart for Mikhail at all. For Katerina knew, in her heart of hearts, that he had, however inadvertently, prevented her from marrying a man that would have made her life even more unhappy than the lonely one she’d lived in the home of her aging father.

For Mikhail’s part, he found he still held a stirring of love for this woman, who had once been his heart’s desire. She still consumed his thoughts and hopes and dreams. He was therefore wonderfully surprised when she approached him, for he had thought never to speak with Katerina again, after the rough words he had spoken to her upon that enchanted bridge.

She lingered in his company, there in the market, and when he asked about her well-being, she told him of her unhappiness and how lonely her life had become. She never thought to give this man the time of day again, but he treated her kindly and sympathized with her loneliness.

Katerina had learned to see people for who they really were, and now knew the curse was actually a blessing. For it had given her an ability to see beyond the outward appearance, the façade with which people chose to portray themselves. And though Mikhail was far from handsome, he was neither wealthy, nor did he hold a high position, yet he was a kind man and she found herself drawn to his company, and found that she enjoyed being with him, and the way he made her feel.

There followed a time of courtship and, eventually, he brought her back to the bridge. There he pledged his undying love and asked her again to marry him. This time, his words sent a thrill of love throughout her being, for she saw him with Love’s True Sight; and when that happened, she felt the hardness of her heart fall away like scales, and the curse that had once been laid upon her lifted. And though she could see all his flaws, she knew without doubt that she would love this man, and she agreed to be his wife.

They rushed away to tell his friends and brought her father and the preacher back to the romantic, enchanting bridge. There they were married, and she left her father’s house to make a new home with her husband. And after that, they lived happily ever after.

The End.


Published as my first of twelve short story prompts for 2018 at 12shortstories.com

Joy Comes Late

Georgina saw the younger woman enter the shop and felt as if God had just blessed her with a gift. It seemed to the elderly lady that the whole store brightened, lit by the blond hair and pale skin and delicate frame of the woman; though Georgina thought she looked sad, with her solemn expression and downcast eyes.

The woman didn’t see Georgina, nor did she make eye contact with anyone in the shop. She went straight to the sales rack and riffled through until she pulled out a plain blue skirt, then wandered to the blouses, fingering the material and examining price tags, finally selecting a white short sleeved, button up blouse and a light blue cardigan. As if she knew exactly what she was looking for, and no need to look any further.

The elderly woman ducked behind a clothes rack as the blond one passed her on the way to the fitting room. She slipped out of the store as the other went to try on her clothes, then positioned herself so she could see the sales counter, yet not be seen herself.

Georgina fidgeted with her purse, fluffed her hair in nervous anticipation and found herself struggling with emotions she’d thought long laid to rest. Her heart beat erratically, feeling as if the dead had been raised to life and was even now heading straight towards her, full of life and energy and totally unaware of the chaos she’s wrought within the old lady’s memories.

Georgina had always been bold, not one to let opportunity slip by and so she moved quickly, following the girl just to the mall door, then called out, tremulously.

“Virginia?” Her pulse raised and her heart seemed to constrict when the other woman turned towards her. “Yes, it is you! Oh, Virginia!  I would know you anywhere. Why, it’s like looking in a mirror at myself, forty years ago!”

“Nana?” It was said in the barest of whispers, the blue eyes widening in recognition, and for the barest of moments a glimmer of warmth shone from them, only to be replaced with steely ice and cold reserve.

“No!” She turned away from the elderly woman, her body ridged, tensed. “No! I’m sorry, but I have nothing to say to you. Excuse me.” Virginia turned away, but Georgina moved quickly, need propelling her forward, cutting off the exit the younger woman would have taken.

“Is that right?” Anger, and grief, strengthened Georgina’s voice. “You’ve nothing to say to your Grandmother, whom you haven’t seen or spoken to in twenty-five years? Why are you here?”

“That’s none of your business. I didn’t come to see you.”

“No. I’m sure you didn’t. But here we are. Could you not spare just ten minutes to sit and talk with me?” She hated that she felt the need to beg.

“And talk about what, Nana? How you drove my mother away and broke my father’s heart? How you… “ Her voice broke on a web of emotion, and she clutched the bag with her new clothes hard against her chest like a shield.

Two teenage girls brushed past them, chatting unconcernedly and letting a warm breeze filter in through the door as it opened and closed behind them.

Neither woman moved, as if frozen in time.

Georgina swallowed the lump in her throat, knowing that this may be her only chance to say the words and bridge the gulf that had separated them for so long. “I know that’s what you think. George must have thought it too, else why move so far away, so soon after Gloria left? But I was not to blame, Virginia. I only wanted your mother to get help, not to abandon her family.”

“I was there, Nana. I heard what you said to her. ‘You’re no good to them,’ you said, ‘you’re not a fit mother’ and ‘you’re not a fit wife’. I heard you!”

“Yes. God help me, I did say those things. And it was the truth. She was not a good mother…”

“But she was my mother!”

“And all I wanted was for her to get help. Twenty-eight days, Virginia, that’s what I suggested. As God is my witness. Twenty-eight days. She could have gotten the help she needed and come back to us.” The tears spilled over, the words caught in her throat. “I loved her too.”

“I don’t believe you. She would not have just left me.”

“I’ll not malign your memories of her. Either you don’t remember what it was like or you were unaware; which, given how young you were, seems more likely. But your father’ll remember. You ask him”

Her heart ached, and she could barely speak now through the tears that fell freely. She wiped at the tears with a finger, then reached out and stroked the younger woman’s face before turning away. “You ask him,” she said, opening the door, “and if it makes a difference in how he remembers, please have him call me.”

It was the hardest thing she’d ever done, Georgina thought, leaving her granddaughter behind.

*****

“Daddy?”

“Virginia?” The voice on the other end of the line emanated concern, “What’s wrong, honey? Where are you”

“I’m in my hotel room. Remember? I told you I had to go to Walnut Creek for business. Daddy, I…. I saw Nana today.”

“Nana? You saw Nana? Where? Why?” Was that anger she heard in his voice?

“Oh, it’s a long story. I flew in this afternoon, but the airlines lost my luggage and I needed to find an outfit to wear to work tomorrow, and she was there, at the mall and she said…”

“You saw Nana at the mall?” He sounded puzzled, obviously not connecting the dots to the story she was telling.

“Yeah. She was there, and she recognized me and she stopped me and wanted to talk.”

“And what did she say?” It was definitely anger and it made her feel as if she had somehow betrayed him for even speaking to his mother. A woman he had disowned over twenty-five years ago. A woman she had loved, and desperately missed, especially after her own mother had disappeared from her life.

“I didn’t want to talk with her. I told her it was her fault that Mom split on us and she said that she was only trying to help.”

“To help!” He laughed with bitter sarcasm, “How was convincing my wife that she had screwed up our lives supposed to help?”

“She said she only meant for her to go away for twenty-eight days. She said I wouldn’t remember what it was like, but you would and that I should ask you. Dad? Did mom have a problem with drugs? Or alcohol?”

“Oh, honey. No!”

“She did, didn’t she? I remember coming home some days and the house would be a mess and she’d be sleeping on the couch and I couldn’t wake her up. I remember! You used to argue all the time and she’d leave and not come home until late at night. You were so angry with her, and so was Nana. That’s why Nana said what she said, isn’t it? ‘You’re not a fit mother.’ Well, maybe she wasn’t.”

Virginia fingered the ring on her finger, thinking of her boyfriend and the grief his brother had caused to so many people. “Why did we blame Nana all these years, Dad? It’s no different than Justin’s brother, David. Always lying and stealing so he could buy his drugs, then promising he wouldn’t do it any more once the drugs were gone and he was no longer high. But David got help, didn’t he? He went to one of those programs, a twenty-eight day program, if I remember rightly!”

“No,” her Dad’s voice had grown quiet, contemplative. “No. She was doing better, she didn’t need ‘help,’: as Nana liked to call it.”

“You know what, Dad? You sound just like Justin’s mother! I’m sorry, but you do. She never wanted to believe that David was to blame for his own problems, she was blind to his addiction and the trouble he caused.”

“Oh come on, sweetheart. You know that Nana never liked Gloria, and she never tried to hide it. She was always putting Gloria down, telling her how she should keep the house or learn to cook. It was Nana’s fault that Gloria left.”

“I don’t believe that, Dad. Not anymore. I think Nana truly loved Mom, at least for our sake. I can only imagine what it must have felt for her when we left too. At least we had each other. She had no one!”

“So what? Are you saying we abandoned her, like your mother abandoned us?”

“Yeah, Dad. It kind of seems that way. Maybe we needed someone to blame for our hurt and we took it out on Nana.”

*****

“Hello?” Georgina answered the phone, her heart full of joy when the voice on the other end asked:

“Mom?”






This story was written in response to a short story challenge, the prompt "Joy", 1500 word count exactly.