Comes the NaNo
Telepath World
2008. Still in the throes of B5 mania I wanted to think about the world Lyta suggested, a homeworld for telepaths, and what that would be like. In terms of governance and economics, of community and family, of settlement and immigration; how the very existence of psi ability would fracture all those structures and how to put them back together.
"Mom, look! I'm on the 'net news!" Gabriel pointed at the screen in excited surprise.
Ellie put down the bags on the wooden floor of the grocery store and watched as her son's face appeared on the large screen. The voiceover was describing the incident at the spaceport, and she grew more and more uneasy, as other shoppers and store workers gathered around the two of them. The story continued, in usual news hyperbole, making it sound as if Gabriel had single-handedly attacked and disarmed the 'deranged gunman' as they were describing the poor man. She could still see the anguish in the man's wife's eyes when they were taken away, separated by law enforcement officials and the bodyguards of the politician they had targeted. She found herself wondering if they would ever be reunited, and what had led them to such a desperate act. Desperate and tormented, that was how they had struck her, not 'deranged', or even dangerous. The muttering of the crowd brought her back to the present, and she touched Gabriel on the arm, saying softly, "I think we should get out of here."
Gabriel looked at the people surrounding them, and nodded, picking up one of the bags. She took up the other, and they began excusing themselves as they pushed their way through the crowd watching the screen to the exit.
Ellie frowned at the jostling she was receiving; she was a small woman, strong but compact, and Gabriel was already her height at twelve. He was going to be as tall as Matt, she thought to herself, as she excused herself once again, coming between two shoppers enthralled by the news story. Inevitably, someone recognized Gabriel, and grabbed at his arm, as they attempted to open the door and leave.
"Hey, it's the kid! The one who stopped the guy who shot at Governor Gordon! He must be living here in Haven 3!" The man who had spoken, and who had hold of Gabriel's arm, let go of it, but only to grab his hand and shake it enthusiastically. "Good for you! How's it feel to be a hero?"
Gabriel shook his head, his lips tight together. He'd never been fond of crowds, even as a baby, and Ellie could tell he was pleased by all the attention, but also a little scared. His eyes met hers, and she put her hand on the man's arm.
"Thank you so much. We have to get home now." She began to push her way towards the door again, one hand on Gabriel's back, gently urging him forward. The crowd milled closer, so close she couldn't hit the door switch to open it. It was a strange crowd, there were people talking loudly, but others who were silent, their faces slightly blank as they stared at her son, who was starting to look panicked.
Raising her voice again, using what Matt had always called her 'command tone', she repeated her plea to let them go their way. Then someone in the crowd jostled her, and she fell heavily against the counter edge, which knocked the breath out of her momentarily. Gabriel was there beside her, asking if she was all right. Bracing herself with one arm, she dropped the bag she was carrying and held up both hands. "You all have to back off now. Someone is going to get hurt!"
Gabriel looked at the crowd, and his face went still. Everything stopped for a moment as silence blanketed the store. The only sound was the slight whine of the belt moving groceries under the scanner, and the whir of the fans cooling the computers running the registers. No one moved, and Gabriel picked up the bag she had dropped, and said to her, "We can go now."
She stared at her son, then back at the motionless crowd, and said, "What did you do to them?"
Puzzled, he answered, "I'm not sure. I wanted them to stop, that's all. To let us go."
Looking from one frozen face to another, she said, "Will they be all right? Can you let go of them? How are you holding so many?"
"I don't know," he said, his voice laced with frustration and fear. "I'll ease off, but let's get to the door first, in case they come after us again."
The two of them got the door open, and stood in the entranceway for a moment. Ellie, not for the first time, wished fervently that Matt was there. This could easily get out of control. She nodded to Gabriel, who clenched his fists, and whispered something under his breath that she couldn't hear. No matter, she though, she would ask him about it later. The crowd was moving now, some people were holding their heads in their hands as if they had a terrible headache. Others were staring blankly at each other, as if they couldn't remember what they had just been doing. A few stared at Gabriel. One woman pointed at him, raising the back of her hand to her mouth, her face white with fear. Ellie muttered an apology, and taking her son's arm, left the market as quickly and quietly as they had entered.
Selkie
2010. Caught up in reading Scottish folklore, customs, legends, and history. The story is set half in modern day and in 17th century Scotland. It’s another family story, about growing up and letting go. The selkie legend weaves itself through two families, as well as the myths of Beira and Bride, goddesses of winter and summer, old and young, death and re-birth, contemplation and action, harvest and sowing.
After tea, Roben's eyes were drooping closed and Madde laid him down on his trundle bed. Asking Ellin to keep watch, she draped her shawl across her shoulders and set off down the shore path, thinking she might meet Thome. When she didn't see him, she turned back and set off down the path to the sea. Looking out over the crashing waves, dark and foamy as the wind whipped them towards the shore, she breathed in the salt smell of home. Happiness swelled in her like the waves, and on impulse she walked out into the surf, letting the water surround her and lift up her dress, caressing her legs and thighs as it flowed back and forth. The sea was life, and she had missed it, having avoided it for so very long. First Moire coming back into her life, then Elspeth's leaving it, both events had conspired to awaken a longing she had almost forgotten. No, she had not forgotten it; only ignored it, quelled it, hidden it deep inside herself. She sat down in the water, letting the current wash around her. Leaning back, her hair trailed in the water, the tips of her tresses wriggling like small fish around her. The water was alive all around her, and she laid flat, sinking down into the sand with each encroaching wave.
"Madde!" came a cry from behind her, and suddenly she was jerked upright by violent hands under her arms.
"What are you thinking, to drown yourself?" Shock and distrust made Thome's voice rough and angry.
"I was just cooling off," said Madde, rubbing her arms after jerking them out of Thome's hard grasp. "I walked down the path to see if you were coming, and got a little warm, so I came down here to catch the breeze."
"You were underwater!" cried Thome, "lying underwater like a sea creature! Your dress is soaked, you're cold as ice. I'm not sure you were breathing!"
Madde gave a brittle laugh, "Like a sea creature, was I? Not such a reach, is it, Thome?" She could smell the whiskey on his breath as he stood practically on top of her, towering like a cliff overhanging the sea. "You missed your tea. Ellin made quite a nice one."
At the mention of his daughter, Thome's attitude softened. "She's a good girl, Ellin. Took fine care of the baby and the house while you were gone."
Madde felt like a blow had landed on her heart. It was foolish to be jealous of her own daughter, and she knew the children had missed her; they had just been showing her that. But still she felt out of touch and unneeded. Thome didn't seem to need her; she suspected he had known she was returning and still hadn't bothered to meet her or be home when she arrived.
"Did you miss me then?" she asked, trying to keep her tone light, and hide the desperation she felt. "It was a good harvest this year. There will be good forage for the cow over winter."
Thome nodded. "I checked with the stores keeper; he was doing the weights and allocations. It'll be nice not to have to worry about the animal. Mayhap we can breed her in the spring if she's healthy over winter."
"That would be good. Roben could be using the milk as he grows," Madde's heart felt like lead within her chest. Nothing personal was said, no word of greeting or welcome or love. The children were all that connected them now, and one strand of that braid had already snapped. "We'd best be going up. I need to get out of these wet clothes," she said wearily.
"Yes, we should," replied Thome. "Don't want you to catch your death."
The Death of Dreams
(this title stays)
2012. Modern day exploration of the Pandora myth and its meaning. And again, it's a family tale about responsibility that expands in circles outward to encompass humankind and their gods.
Elsie was perched on the edge of her chair at the kitchen table, hands clasped in her lap, knees jumping as she tapped her heels on the floor. She was wearing black tights, a short denim skirt and a multi-colored striped top in bright shades, with long sleeves that hung over her hands. Her nails were cut short and square and painted a deep blue, with a silver star pasted in the center of each thumbnail. Her eyes were a light blue, almost grey in the dim kitchen light provided by an overhead circular bulb of ancient vintage. A glass of milk sat untouched before her.
Syn slumped in the chair across from her sister. She took a gulp from her wineglass. “I don't get that fortune-telling mumbo-jumbo Althea's into. I'm never sure whether she actually believes in that stuff or whether it's all part of the act. She's quite good at it. I had her do a reading for me once, at the local fair. That was the year she met Rob in fact.” She continued, musing aloud. “I don't know that it's a good idea to know what's ahead in life. Better to be surprised.” With a bitter laugh she added, “If you knew, you might run as hard as you could to get away from your fate.”
“No!” said Elsie quickly. “Better to stay and fight it. You can always change your fate.”
“You think so?” said Syn, weariness leaching any emphasis from her voice.
Elsie leaned forward, her body suddenly still, “You have to think so.” Her voice thrummed with intense conviction, “Or what's the point?”
Syn tried a cynical laugh, but it died in the face of Elsie's fierce faith. “I suppose,” she finally said, unwilling to spend effort quashing the hope of a sixteen year old. Girls that age deserved their illusions. Emptying her glass, she got up and went to the counter for a refill. The cork had been jammed in the neck of the bottle and was difficult to dislodge. The time it took her to remove it and pour another glass gave her a moment's composure, time to let a tear or two slide down her face to disappear in the wine.
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