Unless you’ve been marooned for the
past three or four months on a deserted island, you’re no doubt quite
aware of the COVID-19 pandemic. Here in New Hampshire, the state
governor has issued a stay-at-home order where all non-essential
businesses such as retail stores, movie theaters, hair salons and
tattoo parlors (c’mon, folks. You can live without a new tat.) The
order will be in effect until May 4th, when presumably
this thing will have peaked and started to subside.
Many places have already voluntarily shut down. For the first time I have no problem finding a parking space on Main Street. Of course there’s no place to shop for non-essential goodies. While on-line shopping is still possible, I did get an email yesterday from Herrschners, an online store I occasionally buy cross-stitch material and jigsaw puzzles from, indicating new orders would not be shipped out until further notice. The state of Wisconsin, where they are located has issued a directive. Apparently someone thinks coronavirus can be shipped through the mail. (Sigh…) At least I’m all stocked up with projects.
The local churches have suspended services until further notice.
Someone thoughtfully put a little votive candle in a glass jar with a sign saying ‘Pray for USA.’
Now the title of this post is ‘The
Toilet Paper Crisis’ for good reason. Does anyone know where the
stuff went? I know people were panic buying, purchasing mass
quantities of the stuff (because it’s all about your needs, right? To
hell with everybody else.) I stocked up before hand after reading
warnings about possible panic buying and I’m glad I did. But I
suspect I will probably run out by mid-April. As long as a new supply
comes into the stores, that’s okay but so far I don’t see any sign of
that. Have the paper mills all shut down? Did all our toilet paper
come from overseas? Apparently no one has a clue what’s really going
on.
So until this mess starts to get
straightened out, what do we do in the meantime? What do we use
instead of toilet paper? Well, there are a variety of options, not
all of them for the germaphobic.
One solution is a bidet which looks a little like a cross between a toilet and a sink. You use it to wash your private parts after you use the toilet, though you will still need to dry yourself. Some bidets come with air dryers but that can run into some money. There are low tech choices, often used in third world nations, such as the tabo and the iota. If you are the frugal type, there are inexpensive mini-bidets for use when traveling which will accomplish the same purpose for less money. Adventurous types might want to try re-purposing items already in the home.
Reusable fabric wipes are available for
drying yourself once you’ve used any of the above. They just need to
be laundered afterwards. Those who are old enough to recall reusable
diapers no doubt remember the routine. While baby wipes are still
available, it is strongly advised to leave those for mothers who need
them. Also do not flush wipes down the toilet as they will clog up
sewage pipes.
Newsprint will work in a pinch as well
as sponges as long as you use the sponges for only this purpose and
clean them afterwards. Plant leaves can be used if nothing else is
available. Just don’t pick something you might be allergic to!
This crisis will pass as all
emergencies do but life being what it is, more may loom on the
horizon down the road. Learning alternatives to business as usual
will leave us better prepared for the next one.
Take care, all.
…………………………………………………………
A special note. I have sold another
short story to the magazineInto The Ruins, the
spring 2020 issue.
In the Age of Dionysus, I introduce the character Simone Smith.
…………….
Simone Smith stepped out of the taxi.
The bright blue sign of Kilman’s restaurant hadn’t changed though
they had altered much of the original brick facade to give it a more
trendy look. After paying the driver, she walked over to the
entrance. She could see her reflection in the glass, a slender
brunette, her hair styled in a short bob. Dressed in a light blue
jacket and matching pencil skirt, she looked the picture of health,
though at one time it had been very different.
At once she saw Cleo Gallagher inside
the door waving at her and smiled back. She hadn’t seen her
wonderfully wacky New Age friend for nearly three years but the light
brown bouffant hairdo was unmistakable. Her loud taste in clothing
hadn’t changed either. She wore a retro look polka dot dress with
chunky jewelry dangling around her neck and wrists. She quickly slide
her heavily ringed hand around Simone’s arm.
“I’m so glad you were able to come. I
managed to get a table reserved for us. I don’t know about you but
I’m starving!”
Escorted by a waiter, they sat down at
a place near the window. Simone was pleased to see the low key
atmosphere hadn’t changed. No blaring televisions, only the sound of
classical music quietly playing in the background. It was a light
crowd with just a few children. Bright yellow gingham tablecloths
added a cheerful look. As Simone took the menu the waiter handed her,
she glanced up and saw Cleo smiling at her.
“Oh, my dear. You look absolutely wonderful. So what does this make? Two or three years cancer free?”
“Nearly three years now.” replied
Simone. “The last tests came back negative and the oncologist said
she couldn’t be more pleased. And so am I.”
“All the better reason to celebrate.”
declared Cleo, picking up her own menu. “Are you still working for
that idiot Peter Mitchell?”
“Well, yes. He’s still CEO at the
consulting firm. And he’s really not that much of an idiot. A jerk,
yes; but not an idiot.”
“I heard he just divorced that trophy wife of his, whats her name? Charlotte?”
“Yes and apparently he’s taken up
with someone else, but I don’t know who. The rumor mill says it’s a
friend of Charlotte’s but I can’t believe he’d be that dumb. Anyone
who’s a witch like Charlotte would have friends just as bad as her.
How can anyone as smart as him have such awful taste in women?”
“Oh, my dear Simone.” Laughed Cleo.
“You wouldn’t believe how dumb some of the smartest men in the
world are, especially when it comes to relationships. It’s a pretty
safe bet he isn’t looking for a sterling character anyway, just
someone who looks great hanging onto his arm.”
Simone rolled her eyes in agreement.
The waiter returned for their orders. After he took their menus and
went off with their requests, Cleo leaned towards Simone.
“I hate to ask this, but have you
heard from Michael at all?”
“No.” Simone’s face tightened. “I
haven’t heard from him in a few years and I don’t care if I never do
again.”
“Oh, Lordy, I’m so sorry. I wish I
hadn’t mentioned it.” Cleo’s face was stricken. “I was really
hoping you two would eventually get back together but I guess my
tarot cards were right.”
“No, that’s all right. The question would have come up eventually anyway. But it does still hurt. I guess I knew what was coming when he wouldn’t drive me to any of my appointments. Once I had the surgery, he was gone. Afraid of catching my cancer cooties, I guess.” Try as she might, she couldn’t keep the bitter note out of her voice. “My boss turned out to be the one who helped me through the whole process. I’m glad he did but it shouldn’t have fallen on him to have to do all that.”
“You’re still young, my dear.
There’ll be other men. Have you started trying to date at all?”
“Well, I have gone out with Eric
Stanford a few times.” A smile flickered across her face. “He
knows about the cancer surgery and he does seem to like me a lot.”
“Eric…oh yes, I remember him. He’s
a sergeant in the Army…”
“Colonel now.” laughed Simone.
“He’s been moving up in the ranks pretty quickly.”
“Well, now, that sounds promising.”
“It does, but I can’t make up my mind
about getting more serious with him. He’s been on three tours of duty
already. I’d never know when he would get yanked out of my life by
the Army and blown up by a roadside bomb in some God forsaken part of
the world.”
“Honey, life is full of risks. You of
all people should know that. But Eric sounds like a good bet to me. I
know you don’t put much stock in my card reading but I could do one
for you, or maybe a geomantic or horary chart.”
“No thanks. When I finally make up my
mind, I don’t think the cards will have any affect on that. But what
about you? Are you still going to set up shop in Queens?”
“Funny you should ask that.” Cleo’s face clouded with uncertainty. “I’ve been getting some funky readings both with the cards and my charts. They’re all saying its a bad idea at this time but I can’t figure out what the reasons are for it. I’m seeing some stuff I never saw before, like something big is coming, something really chaotic. I won’t bore you with the details but I’m going to have to talk to Mrs Tremblay. At 95 she’s seen just about everything. Maybe she can make some sense out of it.”
“Maybe something to do with those
power black outs around the country? Right now they’re saying
computer virus, but others are saying no.”
The waiter returned with their food and
conversation slowed as they both began eating. Simone relished the
baked potato, indulging herself with a dollop of sour cream. It was
so nice to be able to enjoy food again without worrying about the
nausea of chemo.
“I’ve been looking at the Tarot
cards.” said Cleo between mouthfuls. “They say a great power is
behind all this.”
“What do you mean? You mean like
Russia or China? But I hear they’re having trouble too.”
“Not them. Someone or something else.
The readings are funky just like when I ask if I should set up
business in Queens. Nuts! I wish I could make more sense about this.
But something strange is going on, that’s for sure.”
“Hmmph! Watch it turn out to be some
dingy juvenile doing all that just because he can.”
Cleo laughed.
“It may just turn out to be that. I
hope so. My readings are starting to scare me a little.”
“Let’s focus on our food.” replied
Simone. “I rather enjoy the taste of my food rather than worry
about something that may or may not happen.”
……………………………………………….
While the above passage doesn’t tell us about Simone’s childhood or family, we know she has been ill with cancer and is in remission. She is optimistic but still harbors bitter feelings towards an ex-boyfriend who deserted her during her illness. Her choice of friends is eclectic as she is shown renewing an old friendship with an eccentric New Age type of character. Simone herself has a practical outlook and prefers enjoying the little things rather than engage in wild speculations about current events (which are wilder than she realizes).
One thing we see is
that while she is dating again, she is reluctant about committing.
After having been burnt by a faithless boyfriend and blindsided by
cancer, she is understandably hesitant about resuming her life,
perhaps wondering if the rug is going to get snatched out from under
her again.
As the novel unfolds, I will add more detail to her life and attitudes, and develop her as a sympathetic person a reader can identify with and root for. One major event in her life not mentioned here but will be later on is a tragic event early in her life where a deranged relative murdered her parents. This traumatic incident will also color her attitudes as the story progresses.
Next month, I will introduce another character who’s quite a bit different from Simone.
A few weeks ago I posted a fragment
of the novel I’m working on. We saw some of the gods both opposed and
in favor of the god Dionysus and His actions. Here is part two.
…..Launching Himself into the air,
Coyote streaked towards the south. Once He was gone, Manannan shifted
Himself to the Otherworld and entered the quiet park where Athena was
busy working over Her loom.
“Coyote saw Takannaaluk give Dionysus
two pieces of Ares’ Armor, the greaves.”
“I suspected as much. The yarn just
took on a darker color while I was weaving.” Athena paused in Her
work and scowled at the Tapestry. “I’ll have to adjust my strategy
a little.”
“Takannaakuk isn’t the only one who’s
sympathetic to Dionysus. I’ve spoken with a few minor divinities Who
hope for a chance to ride on His coattails, as humans say.”
“And I’ve spoken to some who either
prefer remaining neutral, waiting to see which way the wind blows or
refraining because They have no ability to fight.” replied Athena.
Manannan watched as She plucked out a few threads and adjusted a few
more. She then sat back and surveyed the results. The son of Lir
thought the pattern looked good but given the complexity of what
Athena was weaving, He knew that might be deceptive. The sound of two
ravens croaking outside the pavilion drew Their attention. A figure
in a ragged cloak and drooping hat approached, His shoulders sporting
two sleek ravens.
“I for one will no longer remain
neutral.” Said Odin, stepping into the pavilion. “Indeed, I
regret now not adding My voice to Yours when You tried to dissuade
Him.”
“What made you change your mind?”
asked Athena.
“I finally cast the Runes to see what your brother’s rise might portend. What I saw wasn’t good. It makes me wish I had Transcended with the others. Ragnarok was a myth created by humans but if your brother continues to rise unopposed, it will likely become reality.”
“Enough have told me They loathe my
brother and intend to fight Him that I fear you are right,
All-Father. Right now They are too busy arguing among Themselves as
to who should lead the battle. While They squabble, my brother grows
stronger. It will make the battle that much harder for Them.”
“Some of Them approached me asking if
I would conduct the Wild Hunt against your brother. I refused Them of
course. The Wild Hunt is not meant for warfare but is only done out
of the most dire necessity, when negative energies have built up to a
catastrophic level and need to be safely discharged. It hasn’t
reached that point – yet.” Odin’s single eye flared in anger. “Any
one of Them could have struck down Dionysus when they had the chance
but didn’t bother because They held Him in so much contempt. Now They
realize Their mistake and are scrambling to make battle plans.”
“Dionysus knows this, which is why He
searches for the Armor. He has no fighting ability but the Armor
would make him nearly indestructible. If only Ares had come willingly
instead of being dragged kicking and screaming by my Father into the
Otherworld, I would have been able to get the Armor in my possession.
Then it would have been a simple matter to give It to Pele or
Sethlans to melt down once and for all. There’s no other Armor which
comes close to what Hephaestus forged. Only Sethlans approaches Him
in ability and He has already indicated He stands against Dionysus.”
“Hmph! I can’t picture Ares willingly
Transcending.” said Manannan. “He might have given you an
argument on what to do with that Armor. What finally did happen to
Him?”
“Ares refused to Transcend and
attacked Zeus in an effort to break His power so He could return to
the ordinary world. Our Father slew Him with Artemis’s Bow and
Arrow.” replied Athena, heavily. “Dionysus saw all this and never
forgot it. That’s why He searches for the Armor. He fully expects me
to make a strike against Him as Father did against Ares.”
Odin’s ravens suddenly began croaking
loudly and Athena’s owl bristled its feathers as it spread its beak
in a fierce hiss. The three gods turned to look at what approached.
At first all that could be seen was a
black shadow moving along the cobblestone path. But as it drew near,
the gentle light given off by the the pavilion began to illuminate
it. Mannanan sensed Odin shudder and heard Him mutter in a low voice.
“…And I thought Hela was ugly….”
She Who walked the path was evidently
sharp eared enough to hear Him, for a dry rattling laugh floated
towards them.
“Yes, I am no beauty, All-Father.
Death is often ugly especially to those never touched by it.”
She was hideous. Dressed in a blood red
robe thrown back revealing Her skeletal body, She clutched a scythe
in one bony hand and a sack brightly decorated with colorful skull
patterns in the other. She did have some flesh, tendons and ligaments
holding Her form together. Two shriveled breasts dangled from Her
near fleshless chest. Scarlet orbs burned in the depths of Her eye
sockets.
“Mictecacihuatl?” Even Athena
seemed uncertain about the identity of their visitor now standing at
the foot of the pavilion.
“Santa Muerta, they call Me now.”
“One of the Aztec gods?” Said
Manannan. “I thought you all perished in the Catastrophe.”
“Not all. Most of My brethren lost
coherence when Their followers died from disease and genocide but a
few of Us managed to cling to existence when populations stabilized.
It was a good though bitter lesson for Us, not to base all Our power
on the sacrifices the mortals used to make to us. Now my power begins
to grow once more.” Her dry chuckle sounded again. “Death is a
constant after all. And the devotion of My new followers has become
important to Me. However your half-brother threatens that. He brings
the danger of chaos which could wipe out what gains I have managed to
make. You should have killed and flayed Him when you had the
opportunity, Athena.”
“That…is not My way.” replied
Athena, a wry twist momentarily appearing on Her mouth. “I prefer
strategy to brute force.”
“As You will.” replied Santa Muerta
with a shrug. “However I have brought something which might help
out Your strategy.”
So saying, She opened the sack She held
and dumped out its contents. Two golden gauntlets fell to the ground.
Mannanan stepped forward and took them up, bringing them to Athena.
“I thank you.” Said Athena gravely.
“May I ask how you managed to come by them?”
“They were found by some tomb robbers
who attempted to melt them down for the gold. When the gauntlets
failed to melt, they became frightened and brought them to a follower
of mine, an up and coming drug lord. He fancies himself the next
Pablo Escobar and dabbles in the occult. He saw at once their
otherworldly nature and presented them as a gift to Me after
summoning Me in a ritual. The offering pleased Me, so needless to
say, his affairs will be prospering in the future.”
Manannan wondered what kind of ritual
would draw such a one as Santa Muerta, but decided it was better not
to ask. As one who slipped regularly between the Otherworld and the
ordinary realms, He often helped guide the confused spirits of those
who had just died on their transition into the Afterlife, seeing His
efforts as a benefit to humans. But He never ruled over any of the
realms of the Dead such as Arawn, Hela and their visitor did. While
many of these realms were pleasant and comforting to those who had
passed, some were dark and fearsome, reflecting the nature of the
souls who had fallen into them. Given the frightful appearance of
Santa Muerta, She likely ruled one of these latter realms.
“So far only the outer parts of
Ares’s Armor have been found.” Said Odin. “It’s the Helm and
Cuirass, the main parts of the Armor that concern Me. Have no sign of
them been seen?”
“Not by I.” replied Santa Muerta.
“But a soul I recently collected had a memory of seeing golden
armor such as you mention when he was in the Middle East. Whether it
belonged to Ares or was simply mortal armor was impossible to
determine. Regrettably he could not recall where exactly he had seen
it. The trauma of his death was too great to retain the memory.”
“Athena, there’s so much violence
and turmoil in that place, so much so that it makes Me wonder.”
said Manannan. “Would the Armor cause any of that?”
“No. Human warfare is self-generated.
What’s happening there is the result of ordinary human meddling. The
Armor would not affect that. Its energies are passive in nature. So
unfortunately We can’t use it as a barometer for locating the
remaining fragments.”
“I will question some of the other
souls who have arrived in My realm.” Said Santa Muerta. “Because
many who come to Me have died by violence, their memories are often
fragmented. But a few do arrive intact so I will see if any who
visited that region have any memories which might help You.”
Santa Muerta turned and left the same way She came. Athena’s owl finally smoothed its feathers and Odins’ ravens who had quietly grumbled the whole time She was present, fell silent.
“An unorthodox ally.” remarked
Manannan.
“She helps us for Her own reasons.”
answered Athena. “In Her own grim way, She promotes harmony as She
knows it in the realm that is Her proper domain. She shepherds the
souls who enter her realm rather than torment or devour them as
demons would. She doesn’t try to remake worlds to suit Her taste.”
“But She might try to extend Her rule
to other Underworlds.” said Odin. “More than a few are empty of
any ruler. I know Hades has Transcended and so have a few Others. If
no one assumes command of these places other than a few pitiful
demons trying to raise Themselves up, She will likely expel Them and
take on rulership Herself. She bears watching, I think.”
“Perhaps.” replied Athena. “But
that’s a concern for the future. My brother is the great worry now.”
“True enough.” replied Odin,
straightening. He lifted the two ravens off His shoulders and sent
them flying in opposite directions. “I will return to Asgard and
watch for further developments. Some of the Others may see an
opportunity for advancing Their own agendas so We will need to beware
of that. I don’t know about You but I don’t really want any more
surprises.” So saying He exited the pavilion and vanished.
“I’ll go to New York City and do a
little spying for You.” Said Manannan. “That seems to be where
Dionysus is centering His activities.”
“I agree.” nodded Athena. Then Her
lips curved in amusement. “By the way, did You make good use of
those porcupine quills I gave You?”
“I did, Great Avatar of Wisdom.” Grinned Manannan happily. “I most certainly did.”
The
above text is not carved in stone by any means and I may rewrite
parts of it. The process of writing is for the most part inspiration
rather than anything planned. As new ideas bubble up, the preceding
words will be edited or deleted. Sometimes I don’t even know what I’m
going to write until I actually sit down and start typing. Stay
tuned.
Divinities both great and small populate the pages of the novel I am working on. They are not portrayed as all powerful but they are definitely Beings to be reckoned with. Dionysus drives the action of the story which shows the effects of what He does both on mortals and on other gods. His goal is to usher out the Age of Iron and bring in the new Age of Gold, completing a primeval cycle and starting a new one. His ambition is to be head of the Gods of that new age just as His father Zeus commanded the ages previous to that. As you might imagine, some of the current gods take exception to this but others welcome His actions. Below is some sample text. I’ll post the second half in a few weeks.
Dionysus stood on a stony shore of
Baffin Bay waiting. It was a bleak isolated spot, unspoiled by human
habitation. Grey hills sprinkled with snow loomed around Him. While
the air was chilly, the ice that normally filled the bay was gone,
sea birds skimming the waters. Low hanging dark clouds spitting sleet
and fat raindrops came and went. A pale gray arctic fox paused and
stared at Him, then seemed to shrug its furry shoulders and went
along its business. The carcass of a polar bear lay yards away from
Him, a flock of skuas, ravens and other scavengers feeding on it. A
few seals popped up in the waters and dove back under, their faces
momentarily having a human look. But the face He was watching for was
neither a seal’s nor human.
He saw Her finally, surfacing and
swimming in His direction. She slowly heaved Her massive body up onto
the stony beach, a sack clutched in Her teeth. Black wet braids
trailed along the ground. Her face had sacred markings tattooed on
her dark skin . Short stubby fingers on Her front flippers gripped at
the stones as She pulled Herself close to Dionysus and dropped the
sack before Him.
“I only found the greaves.” Spoke
Takannaaluk in a thick echoing voice. “I had the fish search for
other parts but if there are other surviving pieces of Your Brother’s
armor, they have not fallen into My domain.”
“This is actually more than I hoped
for. Ares journeyed through all the mortal realms, avoiding our
Father who insisted it was time to fully transition to the
Otherworld. I’m not sure why He broke the Armor up and scattered it,
unless it was to spite Zeus.”
“You best hope He didn’t drop any in
Pele’s domain. She would have made short work of them in Her
fire-pits.”
“If She finds them, She certainly will. But breaking the Armor up as He did makes it impossible to detect the pieces unless you are right on top of them.”
“True enough.” replied Takannaaluk.
“I only chanced on the greaves after I had sunk a fishing trawler
for violating sacred waters. Their nets had accidentally snagged them
from the sea bed.”
“I thank you for contacting me.”
said Dionysus, removing the greaves from the coarse woven sack. They
gleamed a brilliant gold but the metal was Otherworldly in Its
hardness. Hephaestus never did second rate work if He could help it.
“What reward do you wish for your assistance?”
“Only that you put an end to the vile
creations of humans that devastate My ocean. Their disgusting
plastics, the nets which will not break down catching the innocent in
their mindless grip. The huge boats with their stinking oils,
poisonous radiation and endless streams of waste of every sort. I
will be many centuries cleaning up after them.” Her voice grew
mournful. “The many animals whose like will not be seen again; the
Sea Cows, the Great Auks, the mighty whales who dwindle every year.
Fah! If all the humans died, I would gladly celebrate their
extinction. But you’ll want worshipers, I suppose.”
“Most gods do. But the number of humans will be greatly reduced. And I will teach them to honor our Mother Earth. You’ll be glad to hear I’ve already decontaminated many radioactive sites including a few underwater. It will take some time to eliminate them all but Gaia will be cleaner for it.”
“That sounds like a good start.
Manannan mac Lir showed up recently at the borders of my domain
warning me of the hazards of aiding you. I thought He had His nerve,
telling me what I should or shouldn’t do. He’s not the god His father
was, but Lir moved into the Otherworld long ago. Now there was a sea
god! His son can’t hold a candle to Him. I threatened to eat Him if
He kept bothering me. So He left.” Takannaaluk smiled grimly, Her
razor sharp teeth gleaming. “If He thinks the humans are so
wonderful, let Him be the one to clean up their messes.”
“There are many Who cling to the old
order of things, my Sister among them. But times have changed. It’s
clear the Age of Iron has reached its end point. If the Golden Age is
to have a clean start, it’s necessary to wipe out the artifacts of
the Iron Age. But I expect a good deal of resistance to that and not
just from the Lesser Ones. Humans will fight tooth and nail to keep
things the way they are, even if it does reduce Mother Earth to a
waste land. They will certainly pray to their gods for assistance.”
“I wish them good luck with that!”
snorted Takannaaluk. “Many of Them have either gone to the
Otherworld or stopped listening to Their followers because the humans
think they themselves own the world and can do whatever they want. If
they pray at all, it’s only when it’s an emergency and they want
something. They’ve forgotten that it’s a partnership, that they must
give if they wish to receive. Teach them that if you teach
them anything.”
“I will.” replied Dionysus, placing
the greaves back in the pouch and slinging it over His shoulder.
“Keep your ears open and let me know if you hear rumors of where
the other Armor parts may be.”
“I shall.” said Takannaaluk. She heaved Her bulk around and crawled back into the ocean. Dionysus Himself vanished in a spray of golden light.
A raven, swallowing gobbets of meat
from the dead polar bear, watched with a beady eye until He was sure
the two gods had disappeared. Then leaving the carcass to the other
scavengers, He flew into the air and headed towards Ireland with a
speed far greater than any ordinary bird could achieve.
On the northwest coast of Ireland,
Manannan sat on the grassy hillside above the Arranmore Lighthouse,
whittling a large chunk of driftwood, the sound of crashing surf off
in the distance. His reddish brown beard and mustache were neat in
appearance. His dark hair, held in place with a headband, flowed over
his shoulders. He wore a homespun shirt delicately embroidered with
interlaced birds, their legs and wings woven in a complex design, His
dark rugged breeches also homespun. The sea breeze teased a few stray
locks of His beard. Hearing the sea gulls squawk in alarm, He glanced
up. He watched as a raven dove out of the heavens at break neck
speed. Just as it seemed the bird would shatter itself on the
hardscrabble shore, it came up short, changed into a coyote and
approached Manannan.
“Hail Brother.” It cried.
“Greetings, He-Who-Wears-The-Drab-Coat.”
“Well, now.” laughed Manannan.
“It’s been a while since anyone has called me that! So, Brother
Coyote. What news do you bring?”
“Nothing good, I fear.” As He spoke, Coyote took on the form of a human with dusky skin, His face generously coated with bear grease some of which He wiped away and sucked off His finger. He wore buckskin richly decorated with beads and embroidery. “Takannaaluk found the greaves of Ares’ Armor and has given them to Dionysus.”
“I was afraid of that.” Glowered
Manannan. “I suppose it was too much to hope She would heed my
warning.”
“Is it true She threatened to eat
you?”
“She did hint I was a tasty looking
morsel.” Laughed Manannan. “She’s like the other giants; the
Jotnar, Gigantes, Nephelim – all with vast appetites and all very
old. She remembers how it was before humans. If She thinks Dionysus
will bring any of that back with His new Golden Age, then yes, she’s
going to help Him no matter what I tell Her.”
He set down the little wooden carving
He had been working on, a child’s toy rocking horse. Coyote eyed it
with interest.
“Nice. Is a blessed event in the
offing for You and Your Wife?”
“Not that She’s told me. This is for
some humans who live down the way and still put out offerings for the
Good Folk. They’ve been childless a long time but the husband has
been pestering my Wife and Me with prayers so I did an unbinding
charm to open up his wife’s womb. She’ll be giving him the good news
tonight, I think. I’ll leave this on their doorstep. They’ve done
enough good work for the land, they deserve a reward for it.”
“I’ll head down south and visit my
cousin Spider. See if He’s heard any interesting rumors.”
“I’ll go tell Athena about this
latest news. She won’t be happy.”
“Is She ever happy? I don’t think I’ve ever seen Her crack a smile.”
“Of course She smiles and laughs.”
Manannan leaned forward and lowered His voice. “Of course it helps
if a certain Someone would refrain from taking rabbit form and
leaving droppings in that kibble stuff She gives Her owl.”
“Why does everybody look at Me when
stuff like that happens?” Coyote exclaimed, His tone injured.
“Let’s face it, when She has a lot of tricksters around, She has to
expect that sort of thing. Not that I would do anything like
that!”
“Of course not, an honorable fellow
like you?” replied Manannan facetiously. “Just remember She knows
how to get Her own back.”
“Oh? …. Oh!” Coyote’s eyes
widened. “Well, that might explain the porcupine quills in my
sleeping mat last night! Man, I was hours picking those things out.
Ha! That was a good one! Didn’t know the old girl had it in Her.
Well, I’m off!” He shifted back to raven form. “I’ll get a
message to you if I hear anything.”
Launching Himself into the air, Coyote streaked towards the south. Once He was gone, Manannan shifted Himself to the Otherworld and entered the quiet park where Athena was busy working over Her loom.
As mentioned in a posting earlier this summer, I am writing a magical realism novel, The Age Of Dionysus.The first rough draft is largely complete. Now comes the part of revision, adjusting plot lines, developing (or eliminating) characters. As the first draft has gotten rather long, I have started a process of diagramming the various plot threads to ensure continuity; making sure for example that plot development C happens after A and B, not before, making sure characters don’t make an appearance after they have been bumped off, or suddenly pop out of nowhere before they have been properly introduced. Plot inconsistencies can disrupt the narrative for readers, so diagramming is really essential in keeping track of everything.
The premise in the book is that gods and other supernatural beings are real. One god in particular, Dionysus drives the plot. He is convinced that theAge Of Iron is coming to a close and a new Golden Age is about to dawn. With that in mind, He intends to put Himself in a position where He will be the top divinity. However as often happens, the best laid plans of gods and men don’t always work out as intended. The novel details the effects His actions have on people and the world at large.
Below is an excerpt from early in the book which takes place in Manhattan. The character Jillian West is a young fashion model. Charles Belliers is a talent scout for the agency employing her. Belliers is also a sexual predator, who routinely harasses the models in the agency, secure in the knowledge that he won’t get fired because of ‘people he knows’. Belliers attempts to sexually assault Jillian but she is rescued when Dionysus (posing as a mortal) unexpectedly shows up. The excerpt picks up where Dionysus and Jillian leave.
Note: The wine Charles finds is
Maenad wine. In the novel, there are three levels of this wine which
are all highly intoxicating as they are laced with narcotics. Level
Three is the heavy duty stuff. Only highly trained Maenads are
supposed to touch this stuff. If you are not an initiate and drink
this…well….
Note: All characters are strictly
fictional and not based on real people. In other words if you think
Charles is based on you, please get psychiatric help. If you think
you are Dionysus, definitely get help!
Note: Text is rated ‘R’ for nudity and potty language.
“I’ll get you a
cab.” Said Dionysus as He and Jillian went back downstairs. “Do
you think you’ll be all right?”
“Only if that pig
doesn’t come after me. I don’t know how you knew I was in trouble but
thank you! Thank you!”
“Charles will be
having other problems before too long. He’s his own worst enemy in
the end. But I can promise you, you won’t need to worry about him
coming after you.”
“I hope you’re
right. That was no idle threat he made, you know. I don’t know if I
could file charges against him. It’s my word against his. I’d have to
fight the whole way and even then the case would probably get
dismissed.” She wiped angry tears from her face. “ Guys like him
always seem to get away with stuff and nobody does anything about
it.”
Now outside,
Dionysus flagged down a cab, paid the driver for her, then handed a
small business card to her.
“That’s my phone
number. If you have any problems, and somehow I don’t think you will,
just call me.”
“Thank you.”
She looked hesitantly up at him. “Will I be seeing you again
tomorrow?”
The smile on
Dionysus’s face was glorious, washing away all the terror she had
felt earlier.
“I can guarantee it.”
………………………..
Upstairs,Charles fumed as he zipped up his pants. This evening was a bust for sure. Would that bitch file charges? Sometime they did, sometime they didn’t. And how did that Greek prick get in here anyway? He was sure he had locked the door from the inside. Maybe he hadn’t fully latched it somehow. Looking at his hands he realized they were shaking not with rage but with terror. Dionysus had held him up like he was a kitten and hadn’t even broken into a sweat. How strong was that guy anyway?
More as a way to
distract himself than out of a sense of tidiness, he began picking up
the clothes rack. As he did so, he noticed a bottle of uncorked wine
with a gleaming wine glass beside it sitting on the table where
Jillian had stuck her drink. Where did that come from? He hadn’t
noticed Dionysus carrying anything. Had he put it there? Charles
could smell the wine tantalizing his nose. Going over, he poured half
a glassful and looked at it.
The strangely alluring wine was dark garnet. He sniffed at it. It smelled like wine and yet it didn’t. Against his better judgment he took a swallow. And almost immediately regretted it. He coughed and spluttered. What the hell was this shit? He looked at the label. The lettering was in Greek and the picture on the label showed a mosaic image of a naked guy riding a lion or something. Some local artisan brew maybe? He licked his lips and after a moment took another sip.
To his amazement, the second swallow was better. It still tasted like something burped out of the Okefenokee Swamp but it really wasn’t that bad. A fine patina of sweat began forming on his skin. He drank the rest of the glass trying to analyze the flavor. He fancied himself a wine connoisseur but this tasted like nothing he had ever drunk before. After a moment, he poured a second glass all the way to the top. By the time he finished it, he had forgotten about Dionysus. The third glass made him forget about Jillian. After the fourth, he tossed the wineglass and began drinking directly from the bottle.
By the time he polished off the last drop, a blinding insight came to him. What the hell were clothes for? All this high fashion stuff was pure shit. Why was he even wasting a moment of his time with this? After chucking the empty bottle into a waste basket,he began peeling off his clothes and was amazed at how much better he felt totally naked. He should have done this a long time ago! He started walking toward the door but the floor seemed to have acquired an annoying tilt. Staggering he grabbed at a mannequin but its arm came off and he nearly fell. Righting himself he stared at the mannequin’s arm for a moment. On impulse he used it to scratch first his back then his groin. He began giggling like a village idiot. This was fun! He was going to take it home with him.
Something about the locked door bothered him but he couldn’t remember what it was. But he finally got it open and padded out into the hall. Getting off the studio carpeting and onto the linoleum in the hall chilled his feet but he made up his mind not to whine about it. Isn’t that what you got calluses for? It was probably a nice evening and his apartment in New Jersey wasn’t that far so he decided to walk home.
Nathan Jackson sat in the security office reading a girlie magazine. He had seen Dionysus and Jillian leave on the security cameras. The sight made him sigh. There he goes again, this time with a hot redhead. All the girls were buzzing about this guy and it wasn’t hard to understand why. Some people had all the luck, he thought with gloomy envy, this Greek guy was a major chick magnet and he couldn’t even get the waitress at the restaurant to look twice at him. He buried his face deeper into the magazine. Two of the security cameras were out again, he’d have to do something about that. Engrossed in the centerfold he failed to notice the functional camera showing the talent agent strolling down the stairs. But the security office door was open so Nathan spotted Charles’ s naked ass out of the corner of his eye just as Belliers exited the building.
“Shit!” swore Nathan tossing down the magazine and sprinting out the door after him.
“Sir! Sir!” He
caught up with Belliers starting to make a right turn. Charles had a
mannequin’s arm propped on his shoulder. “It’s kind of chilly out
here. Don’t you think you better put a coat on?”
“What the hell
for?” Belliers glared at him affronted. The wine fumes he exhaled
made Nathan’s eyes water. “It’s a nice night. I’m walking home.”
The temperature
read 55 degrees Fahrenheit the last time Nathan looked at the
thermometer. This guy was definitely not feeling anything. The weird
thing was, he seemed to be sweating a lot.
“I really think
you should put something on, sir.” He took hold of Belliers’ arm,
trying to steer him back into the building. “You left your coat in
the cloak room. At least put that on.” There was a glazed mad look
in Belliers’ eyes that reminded Nathan of a YouTube video he had seen
showing a rabid raccoon.
Belliers ignored
him. Instead he began staring in fascination at the marquee canopy
shielding the entrance. He shook off Nathan’s hand.
“Hey! Look at the fucking trampoline!” He screeched like a kid. Before Nathan could stop him, he tossed the mannequin’s arm into Nathan’s face and began clambering up the side of the building, grasping the concrete facade indentations with his fingers and toes like a squirrel. Throwing aside the arm, Nathan lunged at him but although Belliers was in his fifties and overweight, he was shockingly nimble, evading the security guard’s attempts to grab his ankles.
It was at this critical juncture that the squad car containing Officers Joseph Burrows and Jacob Armstrong came cruising by. It was rookie Jacob’s first evening on the job. His field training officer Joseph had driven him around showing him the basics. They ticketed a few speeders but otherwise it had been quiet so Joseph spent most of the time telling Jacob his personal war stories. It was nearing the end of their shift.
“I think tomorrow
I’ll let you do the driving. Do you have any questions?”
“Um, yeah.”
Said Jacob looking out the car window at the fashion agency they were
driving by. “Why is that naked guy climbing up the building?”
“Aw shit.”
groaned Joseph. “Ok, here’s where it gets interesting.” He pulled
the squad car over to the curb. “Make sure your gun is tucked out
of sight. He’s probably drunk or high. The last thing we want is for
him to get hold of a gun, especially if he’s combative.”
“Right.” After
putting in a call to the dispatcher, they exited the car and
approached cautiously. By now Charles was balanced precariously on
the edge of the door canopy gauging how far to jump. The guy trying
to coax him down was building security. He noted Joseph and Jacob
nearing with obvious relief.
“He’s blotto and I can’t get him to come down. I’m calling 911, if that’s ok.”
“Fine.” said Officer Joseph, not taking his eyes off the nude guy who looked like he was getting ready to jump onto the canopy. “Hey, friend, you may not want to do that. I don’t think it’ll hold you.”
Belliers was in too
exalted a state to pay any attention to the annoying people shouting
at him from the sidewalk. The canopy seemed to ripple an invitation
to jump on it. With a joyous shriek he launched himself and landed
spreadeagled on the canvas. While it didn’t rip, it abruptly folded
around him and the entire canopy frame collapsed. The two officers
used the opportunity to jump on him and hold him down.
It turned out to be
more difficult than they thought. Belliers fought like a demon to
extricate himself from the canopy, swearing a blue streak the whole
time. Jacob and Joseph tried to use the canvas to hold the drunken
man in place but Charles had little trouble ripping through the
material. With regret, Joseph pulled out his taser and tried subduing
him. Belliers jerked a little from the zaps but otherwise seemed
unaffected. He didn’t even grunt but his flailing grew wilder.
By now two foot
patrol cops had shown up and added their muscle to the struggle. The
security guard joined in. Jacob’s jaw took a painful clip from the
drunk’s fist. There were five guys holding onto him but Belliers
still kept trying to get up. The wine fumes added a rank smell to the
air but the rookie began suspecting the subject was intoxicated on
more than just booze. The swearing was giving way to an incoherent
babbling that sounded like the glossolalia Jacob used to hear as a
kid at the evangelical meetings his parents attended.
“Shit! Watch it!” yelled one of the cops. “He’s pissing a bucket!”
A stream of urine soared into the air, spraying back and forth like a lawn sprinkler as Belliers continued struggling.
The ambulance
finally pulled up. Fortunately whatever alcoholic dynamo was powering
Charles began winding down and they were able to finally load him
onto the stretcher where the EMT’s firmly strapped him in place. As
the ambulance drove off, Jacob and Joseph looked mournfully down at
their urine soaked uniforms.
“He hosed us
pretty good, didn’t he?” Said Jacob.
“That he did,
little buddy.” replied Joseph shaking his head. “Good thing our
shift is just about over.”
“I wish ours
was.” said one of the street cops. Their uniforms were wet as well.
On the way back to
headquarters, they had to lower the windows to air out as much of the
remarkably pungent urine smell as they could.
“Well, that was
interesting.” remarked Jacob laconically putting on some nitrile
gloves they had in the car.
“That it was.” Replied Joseph, who then laughed. “Never a dull moment in the Big Apple, kid! Never a dull moment.”
