fiction – Rivers Renewed

Merry Christmas Marcy

A streetlamp flickered as Marcy walked by, and snow began falling. She wanted so badly to be inside, anywhere, any place that had heating. She didn’t know where else to go, she didn’t want to go there but it was the only place that would take her on this bitter cold Christmas Eve.

She was desperate. So she headed to the Gospel Mission. At least she could find warmth there and a decent meal. She knew she smelled bad, but it didn’t matter anymore.

Once she got there, it did not go well. There was no food left, and the staff argued with each other on whether Marcy should sleep with the men or the women. They looked at her with disgust and continued arguing with each other. Marcy’s face turned beet red with embarrassment and anger. She tried to explain why she was a woman, but they wouldn’t listen.

Marcy turned and headed for the door. No one, absolutely no one tried to stop her. There was only one place left she could try although she was sure they were closed now.

It was a long difficult walk including over a bridge and in the snow, and now the wind picked up. She asked heaven for help, and she was bold enough to ask for three small Christmas gifts.

“I could really use these gifts right now” … she said out loud, looking up.

Almost an hour later she made it…to the Pride Center. The door was locked! She banged as loud as she could, weeping and calling out for help. Suddenly the door opened, “What is all that noise!” And when the woman standing there saw Marcy, she said “Come in child come in, dear God look at you!”

Her name was Linda, an older woman and a psychologist who had fallen asleep after meeting with a client there. She took Marcy in and went into action, wrapping her in blankets and fixing something up in the microwave that smelled delicious. Marcy knew that smell, and with a smile on her face said, “Lasagna!”.

The two women talked, and Marcy told her about her night so far. They finished the coffee in the coffee pot, and talked some more about everything. Linda offered to give her fresh clothes from the attached thrift shop. They both hated red!

Linda pointed down the hallway and said, “Second door on the right is a bathroom with a shower.” Marcy smiled beautifully. Linda continued, “There’s shampoo in the closet.” And after the shower and fresh clothes, Marcy realized something.

Linda had given her the Christmas presents she was hoping for. When she told Linda, they hugged each other with tears streaming down their faces.

All Marcy wanted for Christmas was to feel loved, accepted, and encouraged.

Linda said,

“Merry Christmas Marcy!”

P.S. That night Marcy slept on the sofa at the center, warm and comfy. She and Linda became good friends, and Marcy now works at the thrift shop.

Emma Heals the Wolf

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.

Barcelona had been very, very good to them.

I’d Rather Have a Cup of Coffee

I’d rather have a cup of coffee with a transgender woman…. than with any extremist on the right, most likely she won’t even own a gun let alone an AR15….. she hates violence of any type,

and since she studies history, we could talk about the constitution…. “assault rifles are not in there…” she continues, “do you realize how long it takes to reload a musket?”

She’s getting her PhD next year, but she tears up, reaches for a tissue from her purse because children aren’t being taught about the pain of racism, “slavery really did happen…. we need to acknowledge our pain, so we can heal”…. I shake my head yes,

when I mention the radical left, she laughs saying, “I’m more of a John McCain myself…..you see how people assume?” …. She mentions the only radicals she knows are in a musty old basement on the east side of Brooklyn, university students writing their manifesto….. “by the way, they have no guns,” she quickly adds,

“I think people just want Grandma to have her electricity on, to have heat in the winter, and some decent food to eat…. instead of dog food out of a can…. is that so terrible?” No not at all, not even one bit, “that’s not radical…. that’s being human,” I add. “Exactly!” she says.

Yes, I’m sure I could have an amazing conversation with a transgender woman….. but not with an extremist, from the right.

What time does Starbucks close?

Transgender

Colorado? Her world tilted when she heard the news. She felt sick. Weeping, she looked out her window. No birds could encourage her this time, no matter how hard they tried.

What should she do? What could she do? Drive out there? Take a bus? People there needed to be held, needed to be seen. By someone that cared.

After washing the tears from her face, she noticed the sun beginning to set behind the apartments across the street. She went for her coat and hat, determined to find some of her fellow transgender friends downtown.

“Dear God…” was all she could say as she walked out the door. She would hold someone tonight, and they would cry together, whispering “I know…. I know….” giving each other just enough,

courage

to make it

another day.

P.S. Hate and violence towards the LGBTQ community is getting worse in our country. Black transgender women are the most murdered group of people in the United States.

I stand against hate, and I stand with the LBGTQ community in Colorado Springs. If you don’t like people that are different from you, including the transgender community, please consider not following.

Much of this hate and violence is from the far right, starting with rhetoric.

For the next couple of weeks I’ll be resharing works of fiction I’ve written about transgender women. And maybe Emma will stop by to protect us, by extending her wings.

Poetry, Narrative and Image © Copyright, 2022 rivers renewed

Emma on the Border

The French cuisine was exquisite along the border. Emma reached for her steak knife, cutting deeply

into the honey glazed chicken, as she was bathed in the soft glow of candlelight in a quiet corner of the café. The meal reminded her of a certain general who always wanted her, honey glazed

The plan worked.

show ‘em a little leg, have him caught in a web of a beautiful seduction, and before he could be her champion… she called forth the wolves,

he learned his deadly mistake as he quivered on the marble steps. She had towered over him

another Nazi leader decimated,

eliminated,

then fertilizing the moss covered soil that would one day carry Allied tanks.

Emma poured herself another glass of wine, smiling sardonically, looking at her reflection in the shine of her steak knife. Then she cut deeply again into the honey glazed chicken, while a wolf howled in the distance.

She would never be the victim of anyone.

It was 1941. Or was it?

Where the Sky was Once Blue Part IV – 18+

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?”

Where the Sky was Once Blue Part III – 18+

When I took the elevator down to the third floor basement, I didn’t know what to expect. But there she was as soon as the doors opened. In all her glory, her skin actually shining in the blue/green healing bath and her naked chest bobbing gently. I was stunned.

“Don’t look too much stud man, you belong to Mari”, were the first words out of her mouth. I carried the tray to the table next to her and put it down. “Emma, you are absolutely gorgeous, your skin is shining, and your chest is extensive, so what do you expect me to do, walk with my eyes closed?” She smiled to the side of her mouth and said, “That’s just my way of razzing you stud man. Wait. I shouldn’t call you that, most men get their egos inflated that way.”

I offered her a drink, “Here, you need to stay hydrated.” She looked me over while drinking and said, “Mari was right you really are gorgeous. Brown skin with a touch of white and some Filipino. Gorgeous!”

“Don’t look too long supernatural one, I belong to Mari!” I couldn’t resist that one. A look of surprise dawned on her face. “Touché, dear one! And you have a sense of humor too. You really are the complete package.” Handing me the empty cup, she sank deeper into the tub, dunking her head, and for the first time I could see the tips of her damaged wings.

When she came up, I was bold enough to ask about her black eyes. “Your eyes are black so are you….” I stopped. “A vampire??” She finished it for me. “No, well in a way…. but it’s a long story. Don’t worry, I don’t drink human blood, especially that right wing crap! That stuff is horrible….” I decided not to ask any further.

After I handed her a towel she stepped out. She was very tall, and her wings were huge even with the burned edges. I turned away while she dried off and got dressed. Well, sort of dressed. “Pull up a chair. And we need to find you a new name…. it’s a type of rebirth you know…. we can even have a naming ceremony”, she said.

I sat down when she walked over. Bending down, taking my face in her hands, she searched, looking into my eyes. She touched my hair. “No dear one, an animal name won’t do for you…. H’mm.”

If you’ve never had a supernatural being look into your eyes I don’t recommend it! It’s like she could see every part of me, all at once.

Standing up she said, “I’ll have to think about it… Now go make love with your beautiful Mari, before I forget who I am!”

I left in a hurry.

I heard her laughing as the elevator door closed.

P.S. Clearly Emma and her friends are turning into a novella. I’m not sure yet about further chapters.

Thank you so much for reading!!

Where the Sky was Once Blue Part II – 18+

I was trying to wake up, but I kept dreaming of green fields in the sunlight below mountains, of rivers overflowing feeding oak trees and the willows. Cold air in the autumn. Mari was there dancing in the field, and Fernando was planting pine tree seedlings.

A few minutes later brushing my teeth brought me to my senses, while Mari was singing in Spanish, in the shower. Once she was done, she snuck up behind me, barely covered in a towel… as I watched her hands in the mirror reach for my belly. “I know a reason you and I are together”, she whispered.

“Don’t do it!” I said loudly. Too late. “It’s because we both have bellies!!” And she shook my tummy, laughing her head off, running away. I rinsed quickly, about to chase her, but when I looked up she was sitting on the edge of the bed, towel discarded, her jet black hair still dripping wet and falling over her shoulders, as she questioned me with her smile.

Uh-oh.

We never did make it down for breakfast. But by lunch time I had placed some grilled cheese sandwiches in a pan. I was slow cooking them so the cheese would melt. Fernando was at the table reading a book on sweetgrass, so I asked him if he wanted a grilled cheese. “No I’m making burgers in the basement.” “The basement?” I wondered if Mari knew.

Mari came down adding an explanation. “Fernando has his own kitchen downstairs…. actually two, one for food and one for plant science.” She added, “his burgers are plant based…” Eyeing my work she said, “Oh yum! Grilled cheese with cheddar. I’ll make the salad! By the way we have 4 levels of basement” “What??”

When we sat down to eat, “Mari said, “Hold out your arm honey”. I did but wondering why. She quickly held out hers. “Look”, she said “We are both brown…so that’s the real reason I think Emma placed us together. She knew I couldn’t tolerate a white man’s—” “Ok, ok I get it!” I cut her off. “I get that… but listen, white people are not our enemy”.

Mari looked shocked. I continued by reaching over, touching her with one finger where I thought her heart was. “The problem is in here, not their skin color.” She said nothing but seemed to let something go. Then she said smiling, “I knew you were good for me… in more ways than one….” I felt her foot on my leg.

Mari’s phone began buzzing. She took it out, stood up immediately yelling, “Fernando!! Start the healing bath…. Make it on the 3^rd floor and hurry! Emma’s hurt!!

She yelled at me to get the emergency blanket, as I looked out the window, I saw Emma flying in. All I could say was, “Oh no!!”

When we opened the front door, Emma was on fire.

“Oh dear God.”

“Her wings!”

Next Saturday: Does Emma survive her injuries? And what is the name of the main character/narrator? And do the dreams mean anything?

Where the Sky was Once Blue 18+

In the Not Too Distant Future,

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.

She whispered, “You awake?”

Next Saturday: Why did Emma place us together?

Emma on the Train

If the spirits of the poets are subject to the poets

then the spirits of wolves are subject to the moon,

and Madrid never gave away any of her treasures

because there were too many vampires

in Belgium,

night clouds cascading

into dark poetry.

It was 1941.

Narrator: Emma wrote these notes on the back of a napkin, while taking the train to Paris.

Category: fiction