Still Life with Fences

(This was written to a photo prompt with a meadow with fences in the entire field of vision.)

I don’t know who I am, or where I am.  Nothing in this big house gives any indication of my identity.  Do I own this place? Were there other people here?  There is no one else here now.  There is plenty of food, and I know how to cook. I wish there was a dog or a cat at the least, for company.  There is evidence that there was a dog in the house – dog food in the pantry, a bowl set out for food, and one of those fountain water dishes that consistently cycles clean water for a dog. The bowl is empty, the water fountain dish still recycling water for an animal that is no longer here. Since the snow melted, I have searched the house, the barn, the garage, and the workshop – no signs of recent activity by man or beast.  I have explored this land by foot for three hours in each direction – only to find fences. There are fences everywhere.  They are simple split rail fences, easy to scale, if only they were not electrified. I have searched high and low for the switch that controls the electricity for the fences. I have not found it yet.  I look every day, hoping that I will see something that indicates the location of the equipment room.

It takes very little effort to clean up after myself. There is no work in the barn since there are no animals. There are cars in the garage, rusted and still. I don’t understand why I am here and alone with a seemingly endless supply of food. There are bookshelves overflowing with books that appear to have been well used. I have examined each one, hoping to find a name inside the cover, to no avail. I wish I knew my name.  I have taken to calling myself “Jo” after my favorite character in the book I am now reading. The house has electricity, and indoor plumbing, and clean, hot and cold running water, which argues against some kind of electro-magnetic pulse.  There could have been a natural disaster but why did I wake up alone, in a very comfortable bed, dust and cobwebs in dominion over the floor, walls, and ceiling, with bedclothes that turned to dust as I touched them? I may never know. I love the fields, and the kitchen garden.  I have tried to grow some of the seed I found in the stillroom – the plants were sickly looking, and died well before the growing season was over. I never tried again. I seem destined to be the only being alive.  I have no idea why.  I spend much time in the meadow, reading, writing in this book, or playing the drum and flute I found in one of the bedrooms, packed away in a cedar lined chest, just as the clothes were. I miss having a purpose. I write because I must.  One thing I do know for certain – I hate fences.

©Cedar Wolfsinger (Michelle R. Owings-Christian), December 2014

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Procreation

Procreation

Rain falls

Like a lover, embracing the soil

Water and Earth

Intermingling in an elemental dance

Birthing a creation

Not solely one nor the other

But clearly the progeny of both

Somewhere, somewhen

A young apprentice

Buried to his neck in earth becoming moist with his own fluids

Recites all the stories he has learned

Until, Goddess-Touched,

Words and Music, brilliant and new

Fall from his lips like raindrops bejeweled in the sun

From Cleopatra to California

Those who seek the healing of their bodies

Bathe in that Child of Water and Earth

And pay dearly for the privilege

Somewhere, somewhen

A child and a dog in some backyard

Squish gleefully through the mud

Laughing and dancing in fun and freedom

Finding healing for their souls

 copyright Michelle R. Owings-Christian 7 September 2008

At Grandma's House

I've been good,

I've been good ALL DAY.

Won't someone notice?

Aunt Linda asks:

“Do you want a special cup for your tea?”

She knows the answer, of course,

And opens the china closet with the key,

As Grandma looks on.

I agonize over the choice

finally picking a white cup with roses

rimmed with gold, and its matching saucer.

I sit at the table looking at the cup and saucer,

Not even breathing hard

For fear they might break before Aunt Linda pours the tea.

©Michelle R. Owings-Christian, November 6, 2009

(I hardly know what to call these.  Creative non-fiction -- maybe, but I'm not adding anything that didn't happen.  Memoir -- maybe, because it is what I lived.  I think I will call them Anecdotes until I find something better.  I am writing these for my great niece, Rose, who is two years old, and deserves to know about this side of the family, of whom I alone am left.)

Night and Day

     Elissa Baines wasn't surprised by the arrival of a mob in her lane. She had made too many mistakes in the last few months – enough to bring the townspeople to suspect her. Elissa knew she wasn't the only vampire in the area. She knew there was a hunting pair who were responsible for most of the deaths. They had not made mistakes. She had and now would be paying for those mistakes with her life. At another time, she would have had the ability to apply a geographic cure to the problem. Twice before she had left her home when the rumours started. Not this time. She just didn't have the strength. If she were still human, she would have believed her nursing work at the clinic had caused her illness. Vampires did not become ill. They could become weak if denied blood. They could be injured by a wooden stake to the heart, or contact with holy water. They could even be killed -- by fire, beheading, and the light of the sun. As far as Elissa knew, she was the only vampire to become ill. She had fed regularly. She had even drained a victim, which repulsed her. No amount of blood gave her strength.

     Elissa stepped to her cottage door and waited for the mob. She knew these people, had become acquainted with them over the past year. She had provided herbal remedies for them when they had asked her, since most of them could not afford the care of a physician. The butcher, the baker, the tailor, the schoolmaster, the blacksmith and the farmers and tanners from the outskirts of the town. None of the doctors, nor the lawyers, nor the clergy had joined the mob – a fact Elissa found strangely comforting.

     Elissa opened the door and addressed the mob as it writhed before her doorstep like a mindless beast. “Good neighbors, why do you come to my home this way? How have I earned a midnight visit with torches, guns, and swords drawn?”

     The schoolmaster came to the fore. “Mistress Baines, we have heard rumours about you and some of us have seen you in the dark doing unspeakable things.” The volume increased at these words, and Elissa feared that the schoolmaster would lose control. He raised his hands and cried out “Peace! Peace, my friends!” For a wonder, they quieted. He spoke to her again. “We cannot be sure that the evil things we have heard are true. You have been so kind to so many people here with your nursing and your herbal remedies. Some of us cannot believe that you are a – a” he stuttered and voices from the mob shouted “Bloodsucker!” “Demon!” and then a change began of “Vampire! Vampire! Vampire!”

      Again, the schoolmaster motioned them to silence. “Since we cannot be sure, we will not wound you, nor put you to the fire. We will tie you to the Hanging Oak in the green. If we are mistaken, the sunrise will not harm you and we will release you. If not – you will disintegrate and we will be free of your horror!”

      Elissa was so tired. She did not have the energy to fight them. “I will come with you. Please have someone smoor my fire, and blow the candles out. I should hate for the cottage to burn down by mischance.”

      The blacksmith moved Elissa out of her doorway by main force, and saw to the fire and the candles. Then the schoolmaster took one arm and the blacksmith the other, and they lead the mob to the green and the Hanging Oak. Elissa sensed that her weakness had worried her escorts. They had borne most of her weight during the mile-long walk from her cottage to the center of the town. They brought her a stool to sit on and bound her securely to the tree.

      The hours that followed were a blur to Elissa. The leaders of the mob offered her both water and wine, and she remembered drinking some of each and feeling oddly refreshed. She heard the voices of the mob ebb and flow around her, as if a huge tidal wave had made the journey inland from the sea to surround the tree and drown them all. She knew she was tied to the tree, but she also saw faces of those she had loved and those she had nursed in the Crimea. She saw the piercing eyes of the Romanian Count Racozy, heard his devilish laughter again and again, as she relived her death and her change. She also heard the voice of the tree and the voice of her Father telling her to have courage. The memories were so painful, Elissa longed for the light of the sun. At least her release would be swift!

      All of a sudden, Elissa came to herself and realized that the crowd had gone silent and still – as if this entire portion of the world was holding its breath. Slowly, the sky lightened in the East. The Chariot of Light sprang suddenly into the sky, full and bright. Elissa saw it, took a deep breath (how could she breathe?) – and remained whole! The mob gasped with one voice and unraveled into individuals who were horrified at the ordeal they had forced upon her.

      The leaders untied her, and escorted her back to her cottage, apologizing profusely all the while. Elissa thanked them with as much grace as she could muster and watched their retreating forms. She sat down in her favorite chair and looked with wonder on the first new day she had seen dawn in sixty years.

©Michelle R. Owings-Christian, August 21, 2009

(Another story based on the main character in my Work In Progress. I had remembered writing it and the general premise [mob, tied to tree, does not die].  I find it interesting that in this story, before I wrote matter that will take place before it, Racozy is evil.  In the novel, he is not.)

Choices (Poetry to close out the week)

There is beauty in the world.

Sea and sky, meadows and forests.

This moment I will choose to magnify that beauty.

I will sing the trees and flowers.

I will paint the butterflies.

I will create equations so pure and lovely they will dance upon the wind.

I will be kind.

I will give my best.

I will be the Truth.

I will believe in the grace of Creation.

I will Walk in Beauty.

And Creation will flourish in my wake.

This day, this moment – I so choose.

©Michelle R. Owings-Christian, April 18, 2009

Character Sketch -- Betwixt and Between

Another character sketch -- I didn't realize I had so many of these.  Ideas for NaNoWriMo for years!  

Betwixt and Between

     I am lost and alone, a memory of a memory. I am Cailin. I am the daughter of a human bard and a Warrior of the Fae. I am Cailin. I was fighting to end the siege of the Unseelie Court and the Nameless Dark against the Seelie Court. I felt pain, a ripping, tearing dissonance. I am Cailin. There – thrice named should mean ritually whole, factual existence. Why am I not more grounded? More solid? More substance than form? I hear voices from time to time – whispers on the wind. When I arrive where the whispers bide – no one is there.

     I sing back the Music and Magick stolen by the Nameless Dark. I am a song on the air, a voice on the wind. I step between the folds of time, in the creases of the veil between the worlds, searching for my lovers, Morgan and Tiffanari, searching for my comrades, RuneHawk and Richard – even for my Commander, Morloch, though for all I know, he would spurn me and name me traitor. They said that I might die, as my mother was human. Amidst the Chaos on the field, I feared Death. Drew my sword and dagger and fought against the Dark. I felt that searing pain, the snuffing out of the music, and was convinced that the Shadow Lover had claimed me. Then I awoke, stiff and sore, heart-sick and soul-sick, to find no evidence of a battle ever happening in that place. Even if we lost, even if the Starborn and the Dragonkin did not come to our aid, even had the forces of the Dark overtaken us all – Blessed Danu forbid – there would be bodies. There would be blood, and spent arrows, and broken swords and shields upon the field. I woke to sunshine, and the scent of flowers, and silence.

     I am Cailin. I hallow once more the ancient sites desecrated by the Nameless Dark. I sing the songs and the music renews the land. Soon, I will finish this work, as I have only a handful of sites left to visit. I search the open minds in the night, to find someone to answer my questions, to find someone to help me find my way back to my time, my world. I am Cailin. Besieged by doubt, loneliness, and despair. Lovers, comrades, commander – find me! Help me! I am Cailin. I am Seeker. I am Warrior. I am Bard. I will know the Truth!

 

©Michelle R. Owings-Christian, October 23, 2008

I wanted a little smile for your day -- sorry this is late

Customer Satisfaction

Notes: My husband and I sold candles as “Magicandle” for many years at the Pennsic War. This is a true story from that time.

      One August afternoon at the Pennsic War, I was sitting in my merchant booth enjoying a rare breeze. Suddenly, a large Knight entered the booth, approached me and declared in a booming voice “I have a bone to pick with you!”

      I blinked, stood up, curtsied, and asked, “Good Sir Knight, what is the problem? How can I help you?”

      He put his hands on his hips and said, “My lady, I bought a candle from you last year. I burn it, and burn it, and burn it, and burn it, and burn it, and burn it, and IT WON'T GO AWAY! So I can't BUY ANOTHER ONE!”

      By this time, he had almost smiled twice and I had realized that I wasn't going to have to refund his money. “Good Sir Knight, I am sorry that the longevity of our candle has vexed you. While you may not want to buy another candle exactly like the one that refuses to go away, my Lord Husband makes many different kinds of candles. Would you like to look around at our new stock?”

      He spent an hour perusing the goods and bought several of the new designs, including one of the castle candles. He took his leave with a smile, and I sat down again – this time with a cold drink! Some days, it takes a great deal of work to ensure customer satisfaction!