Seasonal Spuffy Post
Apr. 28th, 2017 10:29 amCheck out my story, Fixation here.
Warning - it's weird, and not very Spuffy. :)
Based on The Rime of the Ancient Mariner
They played for our souls, Death and Life-in-Death. Diced and paid us no mind. We were as nothing to them. When we play at dice, we care for our stakes, worry lest we lose too much. But our souls, though dear to us, were as nothing to Death and Life-in-Death. And so we watched, adrift in becalmed seas.
We’d spent the weeks prior tormenting one of our number for the death of the albatross, spent the days on our knees, praying for salvation. And now there was nothing to do but wait, and watch the game.
We none of us wanted to die. But they played on, and one by one we dropped, as Death won each soul. Each soul but one. The last life went to Life-in-Death, and only as we died, as we watched him not dying did we realize our escape. For in death there is freedom, in death there is salvation.
In Life-in-Death, there is nought but wandering and grief.
And so I cry salty tears for the mariner, enough to keep the seas lapping at the shore, enough to keep the tides flowing, and enough to one day lead him Home.
They picnicked at the shore, with the sound of waves as a soothing background. The sun beat warm on uncovered heads and strong bodies, and they stuffed themselves to sleepiness, and lay about, chatting aimlessly.
She sat in the center of it all, the head of the family. The sons and daughters, granddaughters and grandsons she’d given up so much for surrounded her with love and compassion. Each took a moment to visit with her personally, though her eldest daughter never left her side.
It was the youngest granddaughter, a wee girl of 6, who asked the questions, for she knew no better.
“Grandmother?”
“Yes, my darling?”
“Mama says you’re going away and you’ll not come back. Where are you going? Why shan’t you come back? Won’t you miss us?”
All voices stopped. Even the waves seemed to hesitate on their endless path.
Grandmother simply laughed. “Oh sweetness, this world is not made for old women. The work needed to keep us fed and clad is beyond our frail bodies, and even the air seems to press us down, so our backs become crooked. Better to leave this place for you young ones, to go to a world that is much kinder to their aged.”
Satisfied, the girl ran off to play with her cousins. Eldest daughter sighed and wiped away a few tears. “Never fear, my girl. I’ll be alright, and so will you.”
As the sun faded and dusk settled into eerie blue, the family had no more words left, and trailed away silently, with one last squeeze of hand for their beloved mother and grandmother.
Only the youngest ran off singing.
Finally, the eldest daughter rose from her hillock. “Shall I help you, Mother?”
“No need my girl. Be with your family, with music and stories by the light of the fire. Make some shortbread, from the recipe I taught you. I shall take care of myself.”
And somehow, the old woman rose gracefully, and stepped towards the waves. They seemed to sense her coming, reaching ever higher towards her, until they lapped at her ankles.
She watched the blue light for a long time, watched it fade to blackness, watched as the stars and moon lit the sea with silver. At that, she buried her arms in the warm fur she’d carried with her, buried her face in the silken pelt.
She changed.
She became silken, warm. She became light and fluid. She remembered her youth in this water, and with one last human laugh, she dove into a wave.
She jumped and spun in the air, taking one last look before she disappeared beneath the waves. Her eldest daughter waved, smiling and crying.
"Where are you from?" A simple question, with a simple and succint answer.
"Oh, I'm from Wingham, a small farming town in southwestern Ontario, about 2 hours northwest Toronto. I actually grew up on a farm, so I'm a total throwback!" | ||
"Well, my ancestors came to canada in the early 1800's from Britain. Mostly English and Scottish, with a bit of Irish and French tossed in for flavour. Definitely northern European - sunshine and I are not friends." | ||
"I work at Agfa HealthCare in Waterloo, as a Knowledge Management Specialist, which is one of those great titles that didn't exist 10 years ago and no one knows what it means. I like to describe it as 'making sure the right information is available to the right people at the right time.' But really it means I sit at a computer all day." | ||
"I live in Guelph with my husband and three year old. It's a total nuts and berries town, very hippy granola. Great city though, small town feel with city amenities. And just far enough away from family to avoid pop-ins." | ||
"I'm so happy to be Canadian. My ancestors could have ended up anywhere! I mean, all the stuff everyone talks about is great - healthcare, personal safety, blah blah blah. But also tectonically safe, with BC being the exception. I can't imagine living somewhere that the earth occasionally tries to shake you off. Air hurts my face for 3 months of the year, sure! So humid you can barely breath for another 3 months, no problem! World trying to shake you off like an ant at a picnic? No thank you." | "Clearly, I'm from TV-land... or at least I spend a great deal of time there. All the best people are fictional, don't you know?" |
So simple. (People are complex.)
So succinct. (Layers of hidden meaning.)And you think you know me, know where I came from, know where I've been, know where I'm going.
You think you know what matters to me.But you don't know me at all.
I'm coming from a place deeply hidden.
A place you'll never see.
Like the elephant,
Your touch only reaches parts of me.
and you're like me,
and I'm like you,
We think.
Sometimes it’s easy. You’ve got your eye on the ball, your heart is calm, your breath easy.
Sometimes it’s a struggle. You let your eye wander, your heart is high, your breath comes in little gasps.
And sometimes it’s just not your day. You lose sight of your goal, your heart and head pounding, your breath is totally gone.
And the words fly past, racing, spinning, so brilliant they make you flinch away, make you shiver from their perfection. But you’ve missed the moment, and the words keep flying past, unreachable… and every time you try, every time you attempt that perfect phrase, that ‘bon mot’, every time you create something so close to almost good enough, you know that the next word, just at the tip of your tongue… Would be so much better.So.
It’s 2016.
The world ended in 2012, but we haven’t realized it yet.
We’re so used to watching the clock - get up on time, get to work on time, get home on time, eat supper on time, go to bed on time - that we missed the fact that the world is burning around us.
Sure, we’ve got a cough from the smoke, but we can’t afford to miss a day of work.
We just keep going along as we always do. Laughing, crying, yelling at the kids, screwing the hubby in the dark to make it easier to fantasize that he’s actually Nathan Fillion.
But maybe, one day…
Something changes.
Something makes you lift your head, makes you step off the unending hamster wheel. Makes you realize…
It’s 2016.
And the world hasn’t ended.
And even if you have to get up on time, get to work on time, get home on time, eat supper on time and go to bed on time, there’s still time.
Time to do something for you.
Time to be creative.
Time to scream from the rooftops, “I am Ann! I have things to say! I have dreams to fulfill! My life is not over just because I have a job and a house and a husband and a child!”
My life is just beginning.
Just like Season 10.