Lamentations - Part Three

Alistair’s father had led a group of children to the ancient crash site for a lesson.

“But I don’t get it. Why does this even matter?” Amanda, Alistair’s sister, tugged at her father’s pants.

He sighed and sat on some rubble. He called for the other children to come around. “Humans, that’s what we are, originally came from Earth, an impossibly far away planet.”

Lamentations - Part Two

On the day Emil showed up at the oasis, his face permanently morphed into a grin and his haircut a travesty, Alistair had been examining his hibiscus for further signs of collar rot. He was so startled at his cousin’s sudden appearance he almost crushed the flower. It had been a whole month since the pilgrims had stopped coming, and he hadn’t interacted with Emil in over a year. Of all the people who could have freed Alistair from his solitude, fate had chosen the one most like likely to drive him further insane, and he thought that even before Emil opened his mouth.

Lamentations - Part One

Note: This version was workshopped extensively in a 451 class. Needless to say, it turned out quite different than I had originally intended, and I was so sick of it by the end that I cursed it and locked it away in a dark place. But, with some time and distance, I revisited it only to find that it wasn't so bad. I present to you "Lamentations."

Alistair was alone with Emil. Even the air howling by him bemoaned this reality. The sides of the copper canyon rose above on either side, trying, but failing despite their towering presence, to comfort him. The beige and crimson striped rock walls echoed the sounds of their footsteps, but not even that illusion was enough to distract Alistair from the truth: he was alone, and what’s worse, he was alone with Emil.

Rosancranz

I prayed with all the tears I bled, that you’d come back from the dead

You stayed, despite the tears you bled, so I’ll come back from the dead

Drops so heavy they could have been rain

That night, I saw everything

I know what you were doing to you

Did you know, what you were doing to me?

A kiss, so false it had to be true

A kiss leaving me in agony

That night it all started

Something wicked in the garden

No thing slices like Apathy

No weight crushes like hostility

Seeing you and I so far apart

And watching how you stumbled

were hooks that ripped my heart

and the rest of me crumbled

That morning it had dared

Something wicked in the square

Please don’t hide behind your shame

And know, I’ve endured the same

Pressure penetrates your skull

All those hands stripping you naked

Alone and exposed before all

And wondering how you’ll make it

That day it had shadowed me

Something wicked in the city

If you would just allow

For me to help you now

Don’t fret that I’m carrying you

On this road to eternity

I had once needed help too

And he does not demand alacrity

That noon on the trail

Something wicked was doomed to fail

You tied me up

You nailed me down

You pierced me through

You jeered

And I fell silent

And I fell

Through that abyss

So I could rise

And bring you with me

Nothing wicked can stop me

I prayed with all the tears I bled, 
that you’d come back from the dead

You stayed, despite the tears you bled, 
so I’ll come back from the dead

The Speaker

The following is an excerpt from my YA manuscript that I've been working on since forever. I happen to like this passage, but I'm not sure why.

“You mustn’t try to prepare yourself for it,” her mother had said instead. “Know that this is not a test and there is no danger. Dispel your worries.”

            Akari was still rolling her eyes in memory of that answer as they followed the trail around a bend and down into a crevasse. A creek rippled at the bottom, feeding a large, drooping tree with bulbous knots. Its thick trunk was like a strongman holding up a world of branches, but as it had grown tired the leafless branches slipped from its grip and bent toward the ground.

            It looked sad, or so Akari thought. How could it not be when most of the trees around had long since dried up?

            “My daughter, this is the Speaker. We transplanted it here so that it might survive, but we do not think it is long for this world.” Arie took Akari’s hand and guided her to the base of the tree. “The Speaker speaks for Seele. When you’ve heard the Speaker, you’ve heard Seele, and that cements the bond.”

            Akari protested, “But I don’t have a bond to cement. I don’t know anything about this Seele. And I’m not full elf. Won’t that have an effect?”

            Eithne, the female elf who had loaned Akari the dress replied, “There is good reason why we did not answer your questions on the rite. You must partake as you are, and not as who you think you should be. Leave your concerns behind you and calm your thoughts.”

            Akari stared at the tree. Was it staring right back?

            Arie motioned for Akari to position herself on her knees, an arm’s length from the trunk. The elves surrounded the Speaker and muttered in the beautiful language Arie had spoken when she aided Mace. The words were in a lax cadence, with a rhythmic inflection strung throughout. Akari watched them and wished she understood what they were saying.

            “No,” her mother whispered. She took Akari’s hand and placed it on one of the knots. “Don’t mind them.” Arie drew some of the Speaker’s sap onto her thumb and smeared it across Akari’s forehead. “Do not mind anything.” Arie kissed her daughter on the head before joining the circle of elves around Akari and the Speaker.

            Akari swallowed. She had a dark feeling that they would be sitting there all night if they expected her to perform some sort of magic. They knew full well that she had not been raised an elf, that she still had no concept of Seele. It was not fair, and their reluctance to answer her questions only annoyed her.

            She grew impatient, tempted by the notion to just run for it, when the sap on her forehead began to warm, drawing her thoughts away from escape. The heat became almost uncomfortable when she smelled a fragrant earthiness. The smell filled her lungs, and when the air reached her brain, her body fell forward against the knot, her hand barely saving her face from the bark. She tried to push herself up, but couldn’t. She couldn’t move.

            After the paralysis came numbness, save for the burning on her forehead. She could not feel her lungs inhaling, and she panicked, but she could not even feel her heart race. A tiny bug crawling across the ancient bark of the Speaker was the last thing she saw before blindness set in.

            Akari cursed the elves in her mind. This was not the unconsciousness of sleep, but it was the helplessness that had plagued her her entire life. Her thoughts were frantic, wondering if all this were normal, or if she were an anomaly. The absence of her senses, of not being able to move—she knew no thing more terrifying. But soon, her thoughts were deafened by the absolute silence, and it beckoned her to be the same.

            Silent. Like she wasn’t there.

            Akari allowed herself to disappear. 

What's in a name

In French it’s agnelet—its Latin root is where you get the name Agnes from. It was one of the first livestock animals to be domesticated, and it has been integral to civilization ever since. The origins are thought to be the mouflon from Europe and Asia. Though its husbandry has been present the world over, today it is most closely associated with Australia, New Zealand, the British Isles, and South America. In Spanish they say “el cordero.” The ruminant not only provides meat, but fleece as well. The significance of fleece, of course, goes back to ancient times, as in “Jason and the Golden Fleece.” In Greek, the word is arni. Additionally, the arni, or probabato as the adult is called, has been used to forward science, most notably as a cloned specimen. The scientific name is Ovis Aries.

In the United States the raising of this livestock isn’t terribly common, and its existence is largely detached from secular society. In the church, the animal has special significance, since the son of God is given the title of Agnus Dei. This goes back to the Hebrew tradition of sacrificing the young animal to atone for sins. In Hebrew it’s called Rachel.

Hero of Agape

We had to write a love sonnet back in high school. I chose to write about a certain saint. Happy all saints!

Few times has our world beheld a hero,
when how crimson man’s heart can be is known.
Our blessing, a sister of Loreto,
graced the earth with a heart to melt cold stone.

A good hero does not, will not, rescue,
with the idea of rich future gain.
Our hero helped the ragged no one knew,
she helped heal the soul and calmed hunger’s bane.

But is her red heart enough, to follow
a will, that in this world offers nothing;
can her soul take the lives deeply hollow
and show that a smile means something?

What did she have, this sister, now mother,
which she gave full when she helped another?