To Earn a Name

The whole village followed Sophia down as she held her daughter aloft in the air, the singing buoying them up with ecstasy.  Rhythmic singing, like the flowing of ocean waves, the ritual songs were not just tradition but also appropriate, even though there were no words.

The pod of dolphins broke the surface when they approached, adding their own sounds to the singing of their people, their other halves, their partners.  They splashed and danced in their own way, frolicking in the water deep enough to handle it, letting the people come to them.  One in particular was at the front, barely able to contain her excitement and energy, only doing so to spare her own young child the chaos of it, and to guide her.

For the joy of this day to Sophia was not just that her child would finally find the other half of herself and gain her name, but also that it was the daughter of Sophia’s own partner, Orina, who was of the proper age and untied.  They would have a bond closer even than mother and daughter, one shared through both halves of the pair independently and made all the stronger because of it.

The rest of the village waded into the tropical waters and swam deftly out to meet the pod, catching the fins of their partners and being pulled out into deeper waters.  Sophia did so as well but slower, behind everyone else.  The unnamed always came last when the ritual finally began, and so it was that Sophia turned around and swam on her back, letting her daughter rest on her chest where all the air would keep her safe, until she felt the warm slickness of Orina’s skin against her outstretched hand, and she grasped it to let it pull her gently after the others. 

Now and then, the tiny head of Orina’s daughter would poke above the surface, to peer at the two people, especially the tiny one, and make a small sound of curiosity before shyly diving below the waves again and swimming in her mother’s wake until she felt brave again.

The rest of their pod had already formed a circle that they lazily swam around in an ongoing circle, creating a barrier not just with bodies but with current as well.  Orina pulled Sophia and their daughters into the center, swimming along the inside of the circle just a little faster than the others, so they would pass each of them in turn.  Each person reached out with a wet hand and touched a part of the unnamed human child, whispering praise or well wishes, even as each dolphin nudged the young calf, urging her forward to the next one, encouraging her in their own way which was more body language than sound.  Sounds were worth less under water.

The circle tightened slowly as they spiraled their way inward.  Finally they stopped in the middle, and the calf surfaced, seeming to understand that this was an important moment that she could not remain hidden for.  Sophia released Orina and balanced herself upright in the water, one arm still supporting her unnamed daughter.  Orina nudged her own daughter forward, and Sophia pulled her daughter from the crook of her arm and supported her upright in the water, too, so she could blink owlishly at the dolphin in front of her.

After she got over her confusion, she held out her little toddler hand and happily exclaimed, “Door!” as she tried to touch the calf, oblivious to the fact that the word meant nothing in that context.  Sophia couldn’t help but smile.

Instinctively, the calf moved forward so the toddler could reach her, and their first physical contact was made.  The humans broke away from their dolphins and swam on their own, inside the ring of animals, and they all tightened in on the young pair, connecting for the first time.

“Dora,” Sophia announced to their pod proudly as the newly named girl splashed happily even as she exuberantly patted her new life partner’s head.  Her first word didn’t have to have anything to do with her name, of course, (Sophia’s own had been ‘cup’, for example) but her timing was perfect enough that Sophia felt inspired.

The calf’s name was more complicated, as it had to go through a filter with Orina before it could be settled--it was the dolphin’s daughter, after all.  “Dora and Malinda.”

The whole pod repeated the names, the dolphins in their own way as well.  The dolphins dipped below the surface, then rose up as one, blasting sprays of water into the air and misting everyone in the area.  Sophia gently released Dora, and Malinda moved forward and underneath her, to hold the toddler up.  She didn’t really know how to move in such deep water well enough, let alone with a small dolphin underneath her, so it only lasted a few moments, but that was all that was needed for now.  They would have plenty of time together to learn.

Predator and Prey

Teddy leaned up against a tree, shivering in the warm air.  A few more steps, and there would be no turning back, even though he knew he had nothing to turn back to.  Still, every line of his body, every particle of his mind, screamed that he did not want to die.

That was what the invisible line before them represented: suicide.  Teddy, the man, could not sense it, but his partner in everything, his constant companion since he spoke his first word, his stag Grevin could smell it and shied away, his muscles twitching with the impulse to flee.

Teddy could understand, though, what the animal part of him could not.  Their home was gone, their family and herd slaughtered.  Finding another one would give them a future, but there was no guarantee they would be welcomed in times like this.  Times when even those of the same nation could be bringing the enemies down upon them.  He could have been followed, lead a new family to destruction.  Or worse, have done so willingly.  Teddy had heard the stories.  He was afraid to find others, even as Grevin pulled him to do so.

Anything, Grevin’s mind pleaded.  Anything but predators.  Once they smell us on their land, they will hunt us down.  That is what predators do.

But not people, Teddy tried to reason with the terror, but it would not listen.  Grevin could only understand that Teddy feared, too, and they should not be here.

As much to reassure himself as to help his animal, Teddy put his arms around Grevin’s neck and slowly crept forward.  The stag restrained himself from thrashing, as his antlers could cause serious damage to Teddy if he moved the wrong way, but he became more tense and trembled all the more the further they went.

Then, they stepped into the territory of the wolf nation.

Dear Ambiguous Diety

I am no longer sure who I am talking to up there, but I hope You don’t take offense to that.  I’m still sure You exist, or I wouldn’t be talking to You before bed every night, I’m just not sure who You are.

That’s probably not news to You, though.  Or a surprise.  I bet You go through this conversation with every one of Your believers at some point.  I mean, everyone is a doubting kid or teenager sometime, right?  Or adult.  Adults are not above indecision and confusion, after all, even though they like to hide it.

So far, I’ve talked to everyone I can think of to try and figure out what I think now, except You.  So, here I am, Sir, but don’t think it’s because You were the last one I wanted to consult.  I just wanted to try to be sure I knew what I was talking about when I brought it up.

Not that I really do, still.  Everyone had something different to say.  Especially the adults.  Only one of them really acted like they don’t know the answer, and that was Mom.  I appreciate her honesty.  In the defense of the rest, though, they probably didn’t know they were lying to themselves and me.

I guess I decided that the mistake is mostly on our side, not Yours.  You set the rules down, then let us enforce them, so I guess that was Your mistake.  People can’t handle it, you know.  We’re very immature.  That’s when little kids tell their friends they’re going to Hell without even knowing what it means.

I don’t really blame You.  I’ve read enough to know that once people figured out what You were trying to say, Your wishes were pretty clear.  We just aren’t carrying them out anymore.  I just started noticing that the book that names You isn’t the only one that makes sense.  In fact, a lot of others make a great deal of sense, maybe even more sometimes when taking into account the entire Bible, not just the parts we talk about the most these days.

Well, I should probably get to bed.  Good night, God, Buddha, Vishnu, Zeus, Odin, Universe, or whoever You are.

Write to the Audience

Alison had a fascination with reading monster stories.  Not an uncommon obsession, but a bit strange for a vampire to be obsessed with reading fiction about vampires written by humans who had obviously never met one.  Her big sister (or at least, that was what she called Melissa) laughed at her for it, but Alison didn’t care.  Melissa didn’t have to read them.

She fit the bill for reading these books perfectly, too.  Dark hair, dark circles around her eyes, and she inevitably wore dark colors a lot, since they absorbed the light around her and left less to touch her pale skin.  No one thought twice about a girl like her buying usually drab, depressing books about monsters.  Just for kicks, though, sometimes she bought cheesy romance novels just for the reactions of the person behind the counter.

The books were not just hunt-and-kill-the-monster types like Bram Stoker’s Dracula.  She also read those with vampire protagonists, like the whining emo vampires of Anne Rice, and the very human (despite the many protests of Meyer in the prose) and ridiculous vampires of Twilight.  Although popular media ridiculed Twilight for many different reasons, Alison liked it simply because the vampires acted so human.  So normal.

Well, except the ones that actually drank human blood.  Those were just monsters, except the ones who had decided to stop, no matter what their background was.  Alison did not agree with that.

Melissa asked her sometimes why she bothered reading them.  It wasn’t an easy question to answer, since Alison had never thought about her reasons before, but she ultimately decided to say, “Because I want to see if anyone can get it right.”  She liked to think of it as the reason criminals watched cop and criminal movies--to see if the writers were smart enough to say something accurately that they had no experience with, but that their audience did.

She wanted to read a book where vampires were just other people, only with a different menu.

Shodou

This story did not really go anywhere, so it feels unfinished and didn't explain much of anything that was going on, but I'm going to publish it anyway.

---

Sakue always retreated to her calligraphy when she needed to calm her mind.  Calmness was essential in this practice--everything had to be done in smooth, calculated, gentle way from the mixing of the ink to crafting the letters themselves.  To bring violent, unwanted emotion into this ritual would not only ruin anything she managed to write, but also damage her instruments.  The fragile brushes were especially at risk, but using too much force on the stick of ink might crack it, which would present an uneven surface to the stone itself, and over time wear down a crack in that, which would in turn damage future sticks of ink used on it.

She reminded herself of all these things as she took steadying breaths and tied her kimono sleeves back to keep them out of the way.  The deep breaths were still necessary as she picked up the dark stone, cradled it in her hands so her fingers did not smudge the painting on one side of the prancing lion-dog that was slowly being worn away along with the rest of the stick, but what was left remained vivid and beautiful.  Sakue rubbed the stick on the stone, pulling water up to the soft ink to mix them together, then tested the thickness.  A touch more water, a few more strokes of ink, another test.

When she was satisfied with the thickness, she gathered some on her favorite brush, took away the test sheet of rice paper to expose the next in the stack and poised her brush over the blank sheet.

Sakue never planned what she wrote unless she was doing directed practice.  So, she began with a radical, the first that came to mind.  The simplified strokes of a person appeared on the paper--no surprise, considering who she was angry at.  So, she surrendered to the direction of her thoughts and drew the other half of the character: a temple.  Together, they created a samurai.

With a careless flip of her wrist, she set the sheet aside to dry, exposing the next page.  She had not come here to dwell, Sakue thought irritably.  She had come to calm down.

Wetting her brush again, Sakue heard the sound of the front door softly clicking shut.  It was not a loud sound, but it was louder than the sliding it made, and she had been listening for it.  It only made her temper harder to control, knowing that he was back.  She would not let him bother her.  Or at least not let him know it.  So, she raised the brush and decided what to write before her brush touched the next page.

Desperate Measures

“What do you mean, we can’t dock?” Jeremy demanded, glaring at the comm panel as if that might make a difference to the disembodied voice on the other end.

“We aren’t allowing any ships from Mars to dock here,” the voice patiently explained.  “With the sickness there, we can’t risk it getting into Titan’s atmosphere.  No one knows how they will interact.”

“We aren’t sick!” Jeremy lied, stealing a glance back at the door that led to the cabin room, where his wife lay dying.  “We made it through quarantine with a clean bill of health, but we’re low on supplies and must restock!”  They hadn’t had time to pack enough supplies to last them very long, not with having to run to beat the quarantine.  Anyone with late stages, like Melissa, was being killed and the bodies burned, in a wild attempt at stopping the sickness.  The government locked the planet down to keep it from spreading, but the civilians had panicked and brought on their own method of protecting themselves.

It was far from the sanctioned murder that sometimes happened during crisis times, but it was too rampant to be controlled.

“Really?”  The voice was suspicious.  Jeremy couldn’t blame the guy.  It wasn’t like plagues made people act rationally.  “If you can show official approval, we may be able to send you some supplies, but we cannot allow you to land.”

Official approval.  Well, that was the trick, wasn’t it?  “Sure,” he said, his mind racing.  “Just let me get that together and send it down to you.”  Buying time, that was all he could do.  Of course they would ask for something with a seal.  He’d been too desperate to be able to organize anything in time.  Well, if he’d escaped from Mars, he could escape from orbit around Titan.  He just didn’t know how far they’d get this time.

Weekend Interlude (OOC)

So, since this time of the year, I spent all weekend out being super creative and active in all kinds of weather--nice and otherwise--I'm going to allow myself breaks on the weekends so I don't feel pressured.  That way, I won't write something horrible, nor will I feel bad about not writing anything at all when I'm just plain too tired.


I've been doing well so far with the posts last week.  We'll see if I can keep it up next week!


As a note, I've decided to write "(OOC)"--or Out Of Character--in the titles of posts like this one, to indicate that they hold no creative writing in them whatsoever.  Makes things easier at a glance. 

Nameless

“He spoke!”

“Are you sure?”

“Clear as day—out.”  Vanessa and Jay looked at their son, who was oblivious of the import of the moment as he kicked his feet and repeated himself, pointing out the window.

“I haven’t heard of any litters, though,” Jay said softly, worried.  “If there’s no one in the village for him, we will have to look elsewhere.  He’ll never grow to his potential if we don’t find a partner for him within the month.”

Vanessa scooped the toddler into her arms and started out of the house.  “Then we should start now.  Nisa!”  She called.  From the tree line emerged a fully-grown red wolf, ears perked.  When she spotted her partner and the child, she panted happily and trotted over.  “It’s time.  Take Dekun with you and find a cub for him.  He needs a name as soon as possible.”

Nisa yipped and a black timber wolf poked his head out of the brush.  Jay still stood in the door of the house, and met the eyes of his other half to nod his agreement with the assignment.  Dekun leaped out of the trees and ran a quick, celebratory circle before he raised his head to howl.  Nisa joined in, and the human couple tilted their heads back as if to do the same, but only smiled instead.

Without wolf cubs in the village to bond to the nameless infant, the joy was more muted.  Now that he could speak, he needed another mind to help him grow.  If he didn’t get one soon....  Brain damage or death awaited their son, and there was nothing worse than dying without a name.

Without a name, you didn’t exist.  Jay put his arm around Vanessa to watch their wolves leave.

---

I thought I would do a series of stories to flesh out that first idea, which is taking on a life of its own in my head.  Although there are wolves in this story, not dragons, I do intend for Nameless and Surviving Alone to be part of the same universe.  I have the germ of an idea for a story explaining why, to be put down on paper later.

Mob Psychology

“Platitudes, generalizations, the people want idiocy,” Jeremiah snarled as he paced.  “Open up any religious doctrine, and what could be found?  Simplifications of inane, obvious rules that all had more exceptions than there were applications.  Common sense, codified.  Breaches of intelligence, punishable.  Well, that bit isn’t so bad, but no reason to have your fingernails ripped off just because you’re stupid.”

Little Isaac sat perched on his stool, watching his master in his barely comprehensible fit of rage.  His purpose was not to understand what his master said, though.  He swung his legs absently, listening and hoping that he might get it all, someday.

“People would think starting a religion would be difficult, but they’d be wrong.  No, no, writing the religious texts is what’s difficult.  No one will remember me in a couple hundred years.  They’ll remember the book.  What the book says about me.  What the book says about life.  Of course, they won’t follow it.  No way to avoid misinterpretation, no way to avoid twisting of meaning.”  Lifting his head, he snapped at the ceiling, “I don’t suppose You will bother doing anything about that, eh?”  A pause.  “Didn’t think so.”

Isaac looked up at the ceiling but couldn’t see anyone.  Usually, people called that kind of thing “mad”.  But Isaac knew that when someone like Jeremiah did it, he was convening with God.  As far as he could tell, it just depended on how many people called the person mad and how many people called him religious.  Most people generally agreed Jeremiah was religious.  Isaac supposed he would understand when he was older.  That was what adults said about anything he didn’t understand.

“Well, let’s get this over with.  Come, Isaac.”  As Isaac hopped down off his stool, he thought he heard Jeremiah mutter something that sounded like, “Just so long as this misadventure doesn’t end in my horrible death,” but he couldn’t be sure.  He hoped he’d misheard.

Warring Gods

Unable to wait, Rawena launched herself up into the branches, slick though they were from the still pouring rain.  She ignored the shouts of her tribe to return to their safe cave, their shelter in times of distress, but hardly their home.  She couldn’t just sit there any longer, not knowing.  Besides, in her gut she knew the worst was over.  The storm had not yet spent itself, but it had no fury left.

The tree gave her no trouble, nor did the rain.  She spent her life in these trees, and the rain came often from the ocean, occasionally with a vengeance at some soul who had wronged it.  Rawena had never seen it this bad, though.  Neither had anyone but the very oldest of their tribe, who spoke of a tempest in his youth that flung down ice in the middle of summer and slew many of the inhabitants of their forest.

She had begun on a mountainside, where the rain would not gather in their shelter, and chosen the tallest tree.  Now, as she broke through the thick middle branches to the sparse top, she settled herself on the last branch that could stand her weight, and looked down toward their home.

Darkness and sheets of rain impaired her vision, but she could still make out, near the bottom of the slope, their mighty tree that made up the center square of their village.  Their sacred guardian, the representative of all the forest, who had watched over all the people who had lived there, who sheltered birthing mothers and cradled dying elders.

The Mother of their village, split in two, and dying.

Surviving Alone

He was losing consciousness.  Not in the traditional sense because his feet were still moving, his vision still clear.  The problem was just inside his head.  He’d already forgotten his name.  Thinking was difficult, rapidly becoming impossible.

No one survived alone.

The images ceased to make any sense except in very basic terms.  Surrounded by tall objects that hid the sky, walking on sharp things that hurt his feet.  He seemed to be heading up, but the sky never got any closer, so it didn’t make any sense to him.

The tall things faded away, leaving the sky open.  He stopped to stare up at it, squinting at the light.  Why was the sky so far away?  Didn’t it used to be ... closer?  Or had that been a dream?  He thought he’d had a lot of dreams, but he couldn’t remember any of them.

Something huge covered up the light for a moment, then got bigger, as if the sky was falling down on him.  Strangely, he felt no fear, although there were shrieks around him and rustling as other things nearby ran for their lives.  The feeling of being alone rose to a peak as all the other living things left the area.  Tears slid down his cheeks.

This creature, though, he knew the name of.  Even though trees, grass, and sun had all faded already, he could never forget the word dragon.  Staring up at the dragon, he fell to his knees and lifted his arms.  “Help me,” he implored.  “I’m dying.  I’m alone.”

A woman leaned around the dragon’s neck to get a better look at him, then leaped to the ground.  “Poor bastard,” she muttered as she examined the empty shell kneeling before them.  “I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.  Help him out, Aliena.”  She climbed back up Aliena’s shoulder as the dragon raised her claw.

Bigger on the Inside (OOC)

I have been considering making this blog for quite a while, and I finally decided to just do it.  I need a place that will motivate me to frequently write something freeform, to free up my creativity and possibly give me the germs of ideas that might start larger stories.


The purpose, or at least the intention, of this blog is for me to write short blurbs of flash fiction that are easy to read and digest.  My hope is that at least a few of these stories will be material that hold greater potential than a simple piece of flash fiction, or that I may come up with things that are worth publishing in established literary journals that *gasp* pay authors for their work.


I would like to now, and will probably do so again and repeatedly, encourage anyone reading to offer up any of their opinions on anything they read here.  I am addicted to what people think of my writing, whether it be favorable or not.


Thanks for visiting my little vessel, and hopefully once I've gotten some stories up on here, maybe you will leave with a little more wonder than when you entered.