Wisdom from the Doe

He was there when the fog slowly lifted. And the doe, in her boldness walked by and looked at him from under the shade of the oak trees. She was unafraid yet watchful, knowing full well this was her home and he was intruding.

He normally came here to write, yet on this day he needed the mountains to quiet his heart. “Sit down”, the doe said, “Let the peace wash over you, only then should you start with your notebook.” She was bold but it needed to be said.

He did sit down. In fact, he did exactly as the doe said. It was at least an hour before he reached for his pad of paper.

He smiled, having his heart song, once again….

Writing and Image Copyright © 2021 rivers renewed

The Survivors V – We Belong

A fishing line, complete with hook and bobber flew into the air, landing finally into the water with a plop. Then Grey threw his into the air, with his good arm but his line didn’t go nearly as far. He was still nursing wounds from being attacked by wolves.

They had followed the creek which flowed into the river. The river water always seeming to hold a deeper yet softer song.

“I can’t believe you thought of fishing poles and a tackle box! Is there anything you don’t have stored in the lodge?” Grey was a lot freer with conversing ever since their talk yesterday about sex. Brie explained, “It all came from my Grandfather’s place….wait….I got another one!” she started reeling it in like a pro.

That made 3 for her, to his 1. All of them trout. After she dehooked the fish and dropped it in their bucket, Grey asked, “Do we really have 2 years’ worth of food stored?” Brie nodded, “Almost, thanks again to my Grandfather. His cabin is about 20 miles north of here….in bear country.” “I got one!” It was Grey’s turn now.

After they had enough fish, they sat and talked for a while. Baby Bluejay was awake but still quiet, tucked in her harness. When Grey asked about her tribe, Brie hesitated and looked sad. “There aren’t any tribes….not anymore.” He hadn’t thought of that.

“There’s something much more important than our bloodlines though”, Brie said with a serious look. “I’m a Lodge Maker. I learned it from the Mandan. And you? When were you going to tell me, you were a Bow Maker?”

To be honest, he had forgotten to tell her, but how did she know? Brie continued, “Do you realize how important all this is? We are starting over you and I, and we belong here! A Lodge Maker and a Bow Maker brought together, that’s not just a coincidence.”

Grey was thoughtful and nodded silently. He sighed and when he breathed out he added, “We have to get rid of the guns anyway…. they’re not safe around the children….”

Brie just looked at him…. with a sly smile.

Writing and Image Copyright © 2021 rivers renewed

Thank you so much for reading!

Earth Renewal

When the earth is renewed, our spirits are lifted

and the core of our being, the beginning

and the ending of who we are

learns to believe again.

In my poetry and in most of the fiction I write, I focus on new life, an awakening of who we are. And often nature brings healing. I have to admit that when I first started The Survivors series, I didn’t think it would fit into the concept of “renewal” but it does.

The Earth is renewing itself. Nature is providing the stories and the characters with a sense of balance. And the characters are learning to live again. Wounds are beginning to heal.

However, I cannot write fiction here the way I genuinely need to and would like to. Many bloggers have extensive ties to social media and have a limited amount of time for reading a piece of fiction.

With fiction, readership tends to go down, sometimes way down and it always has. Readers look for a beautiful poem, or an inspirational quote they can carry through their day. I get that completely.

I limit the details in each fiction segment to make it short. For instance, when Brie and Grey are sitting by the creek, Grey tosses in some pebbles. He remembers his father teaching him how to skim rocks on the water. In another segment Brie could share she was certified as a Lodge Maker. There’s a deep spiritual significance to that. You haven’t seen these things though, I had to leave them out.

I love writing fiction, but here it is very condensed. This series really needs to be a book. I will end these stories after one more this weekend. The Survivors will be a book!

Wishing you peace.

Writing and Image Copyright © 2021 rivers renewed

The Survivors III – New Name

From the Apocalyptic Journal – 83 years from now.

It was one of those warm summer days where the refreshing creek soothed every part of them. They sat together just listening. Even baby Jay seemed calmed by the sounds of the water, and the smell of the it in the air. It had been 10 days since her daughter was born, and Brie was still amazed by this wonder of new life. Jay was strapped on the front of her.

He was quiet and his face was reflecting the sunlight dancing on the water. A fish jumped. He was convinced that fish would someday soon be dinner. There was no war anymore, and death seemed distant in this peace. A mother deer and her fawn approached the creek, on the other side, and upwind from where they were sitting. They both watched while baby Jay slept quietly.

“I hate hunting.” It was Brie breaking the silence in a whisper. “I only hunt in order to survive.” He silently nodded his head with understanding. And that was one thing she liked about him, he never really said much but he understood her. There was always that silent, gentle strength too.

“And we need to find you a new name.” She said in her normal voice having already scared the mother deer and fawn away. “What’s wrong with my name?” She looked at him with that “you should know this” look and said, “You know how I feel about missionaries…..how they treated my people.” There it was again, the silent head nod of understanding. “I get it” he said.

Baby Jay stirred and Brie figured it was almost time for a feeding. Brie shifted, deciding she knew the name…. “Grey Wolf…..that’s what we should call you!” “What?? I was nearly killed by wolves!” “Yes, but grey is my favorite color….and to be honest it suits you.” Suddenly Brie began a sly smile, “And besides, your name will remind you…. that I saved your life.”

H’mm, he liked that a lot, and he told her so.

Writing and Image Copyright © 2021 rivers renewed

The Survivors II – Bluejay

From the Apocalyptic Journal – 83 years from now

Wolves howling in the middle of the night could be heard through the thick walls of earth, wood and more earth. The smell of lavender smoke permeated the air of the lodge now, attempting to overtake the odors of blood and sweat. He never knew a woman could sweat like that.

It had been a horrible night of pain, and yet baby Jay was here now, Bluejay was her full name. “That’s beautiful…” he whispered, when Brie had told him. He had never seen Brie with a more contented, peaceful look on her face holding her daughter, wrapped up and warm. Brie was a tough woman, but he liked this softer side of her.

He had been right there through it all, and was beginning to clean up. She protested, “I’m so sorry….I’m too weak to…. He told her to rest. “I got this.” And he meant it. She took hold of his arm saying, “You did good tonight, thank you….” He simply nodded.

In the morning he went out to dedicate the afterbirth as instructed. It was Brie’s tradition, a tradition of her people, to thank the earth. He walked outside noticing the dew in the air. Picking a strong looking aspen tree, he mumbled what he thought may have been a prayer he heard once, a long time ago.

He stopped. What was a prayer anyway? Something was in his heart, so he just poured that out instead, silently. At the end he crossed himself, it was all he knew really.

The wind took hold of his hair, and a sense of peace enveloped him. He thought the hills seemed more alive today. Did he dare allow himself to feel joy? He took a deep breath and let go. Brie was right…..everything would be healed eventually, and the animals would return.

Suddenly, a smile of conformation began to spread over his face, when he saw a herd of elk not far away….

Writing and Image Copyright © 2021 rivers renewed

Note: This is a special Thursday post due to your requests! So cool.

The Survivors

From the Apocalyptic Journal – 83 Years from Now

He smelled wood burning but it was the tug on his chest that woke him up. Someone or something was pulling on his left bicep. And for some reason he couldn’t open his eyes.

“Hold still!” A woman’s voice pushed him back down again when he tried to sit up. He forced one eye partially open, “Stitches?” he asked. She must have pulled him away from the wolves, and she was stitching him up. He passed out again from the pain.

When he awoke, he was inside the earth……wait no……he was in an earthen lodge. The wind outside told him they were in the middle of a tenacious storm. She offered him a bowl of something warm. All she said was, “Drink.” He did, and it was smooth warmth going down. He tasted honey, ginger and lemon. Lemon? Where did she find a lemon?

She looked at him with a knife in her hands. waving it at him “I know you’re immune from the last disease, otherwise you wouldn’t be here….my name is Brie, and I think we should help each other…..but if you ever hurt me……you will be a dead man.” She meant it and he knew it. He tried to say he would never do such a thing…but he couldn’t speak it.

Her face was beautiful and round, but she had one scar on her right cheek. A knife fight? She had long black hair, and he realized she was from one of the tribes. She had the smell of buckskin and lavender.

“The drink will help you sleep……I’ll need your help in a few days, delivering.” It was only then he noticed she was very pregnant. He fell into a deep sleep……thinking that she was attractive, but he was worried about the knife……. at least he did know how a child is born……

Writing and Image Copyright © 2021 rivers renewed

Wolves and Eagles Speaking

I’ve never been attracted to Hogwarts and dragon tails. Yet there is a certain adventure to the supernatural, isn’t there? We can be taken so quickly to another world.

For example, Emma the Time Traveler is now flying over the Mediterranean, high in the sky surfing a wind wave, to escape the dangerous auburn-haired Countess. She woke one night to find the Countess breathing on her neck. Is the Countess actually a vampire, or is there some other explanation?

And did Emma actually hear wolves and eagles speaking?

Wait! Isn’t this a poetry blog?

When I think of the different rivers within me, there are several of them holding amazing colors and filling me with beautiful possibilities. Men don’t usually write like that, and that’s ok. Yes, Rivers Renewed is a poetry blog and it is about renewal, seeking peace, and wholeness in our broken world. I think I will always let this site stand as it is right now. I love this site.

Have I outgrown it? Probably. We are more than just one river, each of us has many. So for me I will find additional ways to share the fiction river running strong. Another website?

Peace. And thanks for reading!

Writing Copyright © 2021 rivers renewed, Image Vermont Public Radio

Time Traveler II

I’ve never been held prisoner in Belgium, yet the nights here are quite strange. I found there is more than one phantom flying over the castle at night. I can never see them when I’m a human though, only when I’m a bat or an owl. In other words, a creature of the night.

And the Countess is a bit of an oddball to be honest. Young and beautiful, but constantly whispering under her breath. I’ve caught her watching me several times. And once…..out of the corner of my eye……

I thought I saw her walking through a wall, her long auburn hair the last bit of her flowing through. Is she even real? To be honest, I don’t know.

Yet form changing, in your time you call it “shape shifting” is a new skill for me, and being an owl is magnificent! These wings! And at night I can see everything for miles.

So for now I avoid the Countess, and I sit in one of these very tall trees that have been here for hundreds of years. My favorite are the elms.

Besides, lately I’ve acquired a taste…….for mice.

Regards,

Emma

Writing and Image Copyright © 2021 rivers renewed

Wildness

There was a certain wildness in her hair, yet she really loved the gentleness of his strength. They met that first day on the same trail from the opposite directions, with diverging angles. He noticed her boots, they were much better than his, and she noticed the brightness of his smile. He said as they got closer, “No masks!”.

She chuckled and they talked for a while, sitting on some logs. They talked some more, and then some more, and they did what many young lovers do, even on their first date…..

they had lunch.

Crackers and cheese, with apples, and bottled water. They did finish that trail, and many more after that, yet together. The last I heard she still does not have control of her hair…..and to be honest…..that’s just fine with him.

Writing and Image Copyright © 2021 rivers renewed

Time Traveler

Belgium. I always loved this place but never the time period. Women’s dresses showing too much of our tops, every breath putting us on display. My name had changed many times, but here I was Emma.

As I stood on the veranda, overlooking the gardens, the house, also known as the “castle” had called me here, there was no doubt about it, assuring me I could change form and practice it. The night wind moved in as torches on brick walls cast shadows. I summoned my shawl, the navy blue, my favorite, with a snap of my fingers.

It gently draped over my shoulders, and I was enfolded in the dark color. I decided to wave my arm and changed easily into a bat, flying above where I had just stood. I looked down. Another wave, this time with my dark wing and I was the night….

I don’t mean I was part of the night or blended with it….I was the night. The sensation was incredible. And as I expected, the phantom came straight for me, barely visible. Cloaked in black and grey, a faint outline really, with an angry look on his face. He demanded, “Who are you?” “Are you the one with the red-haired Countess?”

I nodded, then realized I had no head, so I simply whispered, “Yes.” I couldn’t help it, but his bad manners prodded me, so I added, “And by the way it’s auburn.” “What??” he said. “Her hair is auburn….” I giggled and with another wave of my arm I was back to being a bat.

Overall, I counted the night as a success, as I flew around the veranda with torches casting shadows on brick walls.

Writing and Image Copyright © 2021 rivers renewed