A glass of rum and a bottle of wishes.
A fortnight ago, I walked in an old tavern for a drink. The wooden boards upon my feet creaked as I shook off the chill from my browning doublet. “A glass of rum please.” I took out a few coins and placed them on the table.
“For the cold?” said the innkeeper; an old, yet muscular, fellow who looked more like a blacksmith than a man serving drinks behind a bar. I nodded and took a gulp from the glass feeling its warmth spread across my body. The innkeeper grinned, his two silver teeth revealed, and spoke in a more serious tone. “Travelers from many lands say that Mother Nature’s heart had turned cold, like a woman scorned. They say it is her disfavor to her children’s constant abuse of her love.” His lips curled and he grunted.
“Hm. My take on it, well…” I looked at him as he rubbed his bearded chin trying to find the right words to say. Sea animals dying on our shores, a constant barrage of tempests, the ozone layer above our planet rapidly thinning, global warming, this sudden change of climate; the doom speakers tell of a time when the end shall come and the signs are all across the events at present. They are brushed aside and no one heeds the words. Words that speak the bitter truth of a doom that is brought about, not by circumstance, but by consequence. Soon kingdoms will start to fight over food, water, territory. And trees will be just as magical and legendary as unicorns and phoenixes; symbols of dreams and hopes found in children’s books and nothing more. Then it will be just as they had shown it on Mad Max, Fist of the Northstar, Fallout; a desert plain, two- headed cows, and a few iron scraps found by those who were unfortunate enough to live through the nuclear winter. "Ah!" The innkeeper clicked his fingers and looked at me with a knowing glare. “The Earth dumped the Moon for the Sun, then she dumped the Sun for the Moon. So that's why she's hot, then she's cold.” He nodded content in the explanation he had presented.
I smiled and sullenly raised the rum in honor of his epiphany. He had biceps for brains; that explained it. Either that or he was a bloody genius. But as I tried to look for answers on the bottom of the third, the fourth, the fifth glass, I found myself wishing he was the latter.
“For the cold?” said the innkeeper; an old, yet muscular, fellow who looked more like a blacksmith than a man serving drinks behind a bar. I nodded and took a gulp from the glass feeling its warmth spread across my body. The innkeeper grinned, his two silver teeth revealed, and spoke in a more serious tone. “Travelers from many lands say that Mother Nature’s heart had turned cold, like a woman scorned. They say it is her disfavor to her children’s constant abuse of her love.” His lips curled and he grunted.
“Hm. My take on it, well…” I looked at him as he rubbed his bearded chin trying to find the right words to say. Sea animals dying on our shores, a constant barrage of tempests, the ozone layer above our planet rapidly thinning, global warming, this sudden change of climate; the doom speakers tell of a time when the end shall come and the signs are all across the events at present. They are brushed aside and no one heeds the words. Words that speak the bitter truth of a doom that is brought about, not by circumstance, but by consequence. Soon kingdoms will start to fight over food, water, territory. And trees will be just as magical and legendary as unicorns and phoenixes; symbols of dreams and hopes found in children’s books and nothing more. Then it will be just as they had shown it on Mad Max, Fist of the Northstar, Fallout; a desert plain, two- headed cows, and a few iron scraps found by those who were unfortunate enough to live through the nuclear winter. "Ah!" The innkeeper clicked his fingers and looked at me with a knowing glare. “The Earth dumped the Moon for the Sun, then she dumped the Sun for the Moon. So that's why she's hot, then she's cold.” He nodded content in the explanation he had presented.
I smiled and sullenly raised the rum in honor of his epiphany. He had biceps for brains; that explained it. Either that or he was a bloody genius. But as I tried to look for answers on the bottom of the third, the fourth, the fifth glass, I found myself wishing he was the latter.