Her gentle hand touched his shoulder, and she was surprised by the power of his blood, the thickness of his fur. He had finally found her and fought his way through the Alps, all the way to Spain, enduring the attacks from creatures of the night.
She accepted his repentance on a level most could not comprehend. The lies were over. She could sense so much love now in his heart as her hand went further to his chest.
His wolf beauty nearly took her breath away as her light ignited, healing the wounds. Unconscious he barely knew she was there. Yet in his sleep he felt her presence.
Each wound, each particle of pain was taken. Exhausted when the restoration was done, Emma fell asleep on his massive chest, barely noticing he had shifted back to human.
She tucked in her wings, sighing in her sleep contented.
I woke up suddenly sitting straight up, yelling “What the hell was that?!” Mari barely stirred but the house was shaking. She mumbled, “What??”
“The house is shaking!!” I was louder now. Mari sat up sleepily, “Oh that’s just Emma exercising. It’s her version of Pilates”. She fell back down then rolled over. I wasn’t convinced. The shaking stopped then started again. A picture fell off the wall, and a stick of deodorant fell onto the bathroom floor.
“Are you sure?! Maybe it’s one of her supernatural organisms?” Mari sat up again listening. The shaking stopped again. “Well I don’t hear any moaning…..so it’s not….. wait. Organisms?”
After Mari reassured me that the house was built to bomb shelter specifications, I dozed off again, but sleep was difficult. I kept dreaming of thunder and lightning. Something fell off the wall.
I did feel Mari’s fingers in my hair, and she whispered, “Sleep well my dear you will need your strength for tomorrow….. when we have our own gymnastics…..”
I was in a deep sleep, laying somewhere in green fields when it hit me, and my eyes popped open….. wait. “Gymnastics?”
As I looked at my phone, Emma’s text said. “Meet her at the corner of Banner St. and Oak Leaf, and her name is Mari” As I drove the final mile, the sky was still its normal colors of fire. There was orange and pink and sometimes swirls of purple, where it had once been blue. Another missile screamed overhead trailing black and gray smoke.
And there she was! Another human being still alive, and was that her son? As I got out of my SUV limping with my hiking pole, both of them waved. We all had our masks on and protective equipment. I beamed at her, and I was hoping she could tell.
She introduced herself and Fernando her 10 year old, when a cloud of orange exploded, and a popping noise began to rain not far away. I yelled, “A Searching Drone! We need to get inside!” With our masks and protective clothing off inside, I noticed her middle was large. Was she pregnant?
She mentioned, “I can still have your child…. if that’s what you want….” She smiled with eyebrows raised in a question. I wasn’t shocked at all, and these were desperate times, but I said, “Honey, I’m too old for you, and besides I’m just looking for conversation!” I hadn’t seen anyone in months.
It was actually cozy in her kitchen as she took out a platter of fruit and cheese. Another drone scanned the neighborhood. “I’m sorry the fruit is canned, that’s all we have left now.” I understood. I was so grateful, and we made small talk about how much supplies we had, and would the plagues ever end? Everything was going just fine until she took my hand and began massaging it with her thumb.
She said, “It’s just that I really need…I mean I really really need some…some…company.” Well I admit it. I was nervous. Who wouldn’t be?
When I found out she wasn’t actually pregnant, that was it. I was in trouble for sure. I didn’t know what to say. She practically dragged me up the steps to the bedroom, mentioning on the way up that Fernando would be in the basement, tending his plants. “His plants?”
Later, after I thought our wildness had subsided, I was beginning to doze off when she moved in close again. I felt her rub my arm.
Well if you’ve been following my work for a while you probably have seen some subtle changes. I seem more focused on what I’m seeing or feeling inside. Whatever I’m doing on a personal level, it’s working. I’m more at peace.
Some of my readers probably thought I had closed the shop, packed my bags and headed for the airport! Well, not so.
I’ve made a decision. This site is too old! It’s clunky, overloaded, and cumbersome. I love this blog though and will keep it here. However in a few months I’ll create a new one. Lighter, with a different type of writing. And I will post a lot less. I’m developing it. In the meantime I’ll still be here.
I am different. I’m different than I was, and I see the world and writing in a different way, than just a few years ago. I am no longer a fundamentalist and don’t want to be one ever again.
I write differently and what I read lately has been very exciting to me. I’m reading Deborah Harkness’ books, called a Discovery of Witches. She’s an amazing writer and her books are nothing like Harry Potter. They are not gross, and they seem to me like a more refined, sophisticated version of the Marvel movies.
I’m also reading some Anne Rice books, but her later work. I’m avoiding the early works because of them being way too gross and/or spicy. Yikes! I mention her because she is one of the best writers I have ever seen. Later in life she was a person of faith.
So I only read women authors now, because of their “voice”, their writer’s voice. And I noticed that when I write fiction the main characters are women. Remember Emma the Time Traveler series? And then there was Ally the Trans Woman.
See what I mean? I’m different now. Still a work in progress.
Perhaps there have always been healers and seers among the People, but one in particular is still talked about today. All the People could see she was a very special child from the moment she was born. To this day her mother says that when she was born, Holds the Fire sang instead of cried.
No one understood the language, and some said it was an ancient one from when the People were first created from the Earth.
When she was 3, Holds the Fire ran to the injured Songbird, when she was attacked by a bear. At first, Holds the Fire was pushed away, but she snuck through the crowd and touched Songbird. Everything changed from that moment. Holds the Fire’s beautiful brown skin changed to red and then orange, glowing as if embers from a holy fire.
It was in her hands. Healing was in the hands of Holds the Fire. Songbird, who had been screaming in agony and fear, immediately calmed down. Healing washed over her as waves from the sacred lake. And Holds the Fire spoke in that ancient language again, the language no one could understand.
When she was older there was much work to be done. Rattlesnake bites, war wounds and emotional trauma took their toll. And no man was brave enough to ask her to marry. Maybe she didn’t want that type of life anyway.
To this day though…..all the People know….. she is their Mother.
In the days when wolves were still the Elders, and when there were not many horses yet living on the Plains, the People moved west, to grow their food and for sunlight sparkling in rivers that sang.
And Buffalo Bird Woman would sing to the corn, touching tenderly each stalk. Her gentle ways, her heart for the Earth produced an abundance of food, making the People very happy.
The Earth loved Buffalo Bird Woman, and some say she is the first human….. to ever grow pumpkins.
The fog hovered low that evening as he stood silently in the sand listening to the waves. The rhythm washing every scar of the day, the worrying.
Rocks made smooth from the ocean, he thought about her and that he might even smile, until he needed to zip up his jacket a little higher. He relit his pipe, and as he walked home he watched the sand,
surrounding his boots and then give way again and again. He pulled his hat down further due the chill, and he thought of the lamps he left on in his cottage,
and quilts hanging over chairs, and a steaming, hot cup of tea.
Emma held the light of dawn within the palm of her hand. Turning it, this way and another she separated the ball into two, allowing it to infuse both her hands and down into her arms. She believed in God, but where was He when we were hurting?
She was more spirit now, than bones and skin, and yet she was hurting all over. The light continued its warmth through her and questions faded, while grey pain morphed into blue. A blue from the sky?
It was only beginning, this journey. The blood of Palermo would fade, and she realized she was being made new every morning. Wings began to thicken, becoming more than barely visible membranes. It was impossible to tell who she would be later this year.
She sighed looking out over the foothills, just north of Milan….searching, yet at peace.
Rivers Renewed 