Lydia Schoch

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Enough fish were caught to feed everyone who met up at Salt River , but there were no leftovers to take home. Daphne was honestly surprised that they’d snapped up even that many fish, though. Maybe the mountain streams that fed into the river had had an unusually wet, mild winter last year. It had been so long since any news trickled down from them.

With Mariposa’s input a plan was slowly beginning to form.

“They might have better machines and more advanced medicine, ” she said as the group huddled around the campfire and ate their supper with a side of bean soup that one of Mariposa’s fellow ombudsmen had brought with him in case no one caught anything. “But they also need outside supplies to keep themselves going. We’ve grown or traded for everything we needed here for generations. We know which plants and animals are safe to eat, where to find water, and how to survive in the desert when both of those things are hard to find. If we work together we can figure out the rest of their weak spots, especially now that they seem to be more vulnerable than usual.”

Nearly everyone would eat meagre portions until the next harvest came in, but any day now life would get marginally better with the first autumn monsoon thunderstorm. The much-needed rain would bring life to the desert, and many of the plants that bloomed were edible in a pinch. It wouldn’t be easy, especially for children and the elderly, but surviving until the end of the summer was always a good sign.

“How do you feel about climbing back onto Flapjack?” Mariposa asked as she bundled her long, black hair into a messy bun. The burro lifted his ears in curiosity at the mention of his name. After a quick roll in the dirt he’d been content to trot up and down the banks of the river as the humans talked, and when they sat down to eat what they caught he stood patiently at the edge of the group. It made him feel better to be surrounded by friendly humans now that evening was approaching.

“I’m up for it if he is,” Daphne replied. She still would have preferred to walk alongside the rest of her companions, but riding was better than being left behind or being hobbled by an excruciatingly stiff, swollen knee in a few hours.

“I think you’d be less likely to be caught under surveillance if you spent the night in Peoria. The soldiers aren’t patrolling the river as much as they used to, but some of them still show up a few days a week. And I know my house is a shorter distance from the river than yours is, Daphne.”

Daphne had only met Mariposa once before and knew very little about the young woman. She wondered what else Sean had told his cousin about the council members of Mingus Valley. He wasn’t known as a gossip, but his tendency to agree with whomever he spoke with made Daphne a little nervous. She nodded and hoped she wouldn’t regret saying yes to this invitation.

“I think that’s a great idea,” Sean said. “If we’re going to work together we should show both communities that there’s nothing to fear from visiting one another.”

Gerald regretfully declined the invitation and collected his fishing poles.  His family had been hard hit by the sickness earlier on in the summer, and he didn’t feel comfortable leaving a house full of half-grown children and young grandchildren alone overnight. It felt better for him to risk being caught than to take the chance something would go wrong at home. The rest of the Mingus group soldiered on to Mariposa’s house, Peoria residents slowly trickling back to their own homes as they moved more deeply into the community on the other side of Salt River.

What surprised Daphne the most about Mariposa’s dwelling – other than how small and tidy it was –  was its age. Virtually no houses had survived from the time before they began keeping track of the years again. Most of them had been so poorly designed that they were dismantled for their materials, and others were so far away from reliable water supplies that they were unusable as well.

The homes that remained tended to be so old they didn’t resemble anything from the world that was. No one knew who once lived in them or how many times they’d been abandoned and reclaimed, only that these homes were still good places to live if their water supplies hadn’t dried out.

Curiously enough the roads survived, even the ones that buckled under the hot sun and stretched so far through the middle of nowhere that no one knew where they ended or why they were built.  Daphne had always wondered where the road-makers intended them to go, and why they spent so much more energy on paving over the land than making homes that would last. None of the handful of books she studied as a girl had ever explained why that was so or what happened to the people who must have somehow disappeared long before the road-makers met their fate. A few legends had survived from that time, but oddly enough no one knew exactly what happened to make the world the way it was today.

“I have an extra bedroom upstairs, but I only have a few blankets to share with you,” Mariposa said as Daphne, Sean, Ephraim, and Isaac dumped their robes and water bottles in the corner of the main room.

Mariposa was one of those rare women who lived alone in these troubled times. Daphne winced when she first heard her new neighbour admit this. There were so many ways in which someone could get hurt or sick, and if you lived alone in such a remote area there was no guarantee that anyone would find you in time. Even though Daphne had spent most of her adult life relishing the freedom she found in it, somehow the act seemed dangerous when someone else bucked social norms.

“It’s really not dangerous at all,” the younger woman said as she pushed an orange tabby out of her chair and sat down. “Apple and Ambrosia are up half the night chasing mice, and anyone who steps into my yard will scare them into my bed. I wake up before any stranger reaches my front door. Even when I had that awful sickness a few months ago no one who came to check up on me was able to surprise my guard-cats.” The displaced cat glared at her before finding a new spot in front of the fireplace and resuming his grooming.

“But how would you protect yourself?” Daphne asked. True, Lemon was a gentle soul, but most folks interpreted his desire to jump up on them and give them a courtesy sniff as aggressive. She at least had the illusion of an aggressive pet to protect her as she lived alone.

“I keep a knife under my pillow,” Mariposa said with a wry grin. “And in the morning I strap it to my leg. I’ve only had to use it once so far. Most folks know better these days.”

As evening fell the little group huddled around the fire and drew their cloaks around them for warmth.

“Did your parents ever tell you the story of Johnny Appleseed?” Mariposa asked when the silence grew thicker than the starless sky pressing down on the tiny home. The others shook their heads. In all honesty Daphne had never heard of the term before.

“Well, apples used to be a kind of fruit that people grew…”

Here is this week’s list of blog posts and other tidbits from my favourite corners of the web.

From The History and Psychology of Clowns Being Scary:

But most clowns aren’t trying to be odd. They’re trying to be silly and sweet, fun personified. So the question is, when did the clown, supposedly a jolly figure of innocuous, kid-friendly entertainment, become so weighed down by fear and sadness? When did clowns become so dark?

Maybe they always have been.

Highly Sensitive People and Depression: Overstimulation May Lead to Depression. This is a fascinating article about how an overwhelming environment can trigger depression for some people. One of the things I really appreciated as a child was how responsive my parents were to my tendency to get overwhelmed by spending a lot of time in big crowds. As the preacher’s family we were expected to attend certain events (and I definitely agree that there’s value in stretching yourself in new experiences sometimes), but we also had time to decompress afterwards.

Love Heals Everything via CarolineSkanne. The difference between hearing and listening.

Fruit of Labor. This piece is about a family farm in Georgia. The owners hire Mexican immigrants to pick peaches every year, and most of their temporary employees have worked with them for a long time. A recent influx of harsh immigration laws is threatening the balance of their arrangement. I’ve picked strawberries for personal use, and even that small amount of stooping is really hard on your knees and back. I can’t imagine doing it full time for 6+ months.

Dear Cryptically Sad Friend on Facebook via PatheosAtheist. I couldn’t agree with this more.

Zombies vs. Animals? The Living Dead Wouldn’t Stand a Chance. Zombies are scarier than werewolves, vampires, and ghosts combined. Luckily humans would only be in danger from them for a short period of time if they actually existed. This link includes a very long list of animals that can be very dangerous to humans, living or undead.

Ordeal of the Bitter Waters via Virtuseveritas. A six-part series about how this blogger changed her mind about abortion. Most adults don’t change their minds about hot-button issues like these, so it was really interesting to see what lead Samantha to her new opinion on the topic.

Imagine being to married to man so desperate for a son that he’s willing to let you die in the process. Imagine being summoned to consult with a family who coats every word that comes out of their mouths with a thick layer of metaphor and superstition.

Angelica is about a Spiritualist trying to help a family that is being haunted by a malevolent presence. Or maybe it’s a metaphor for the heavy shroud of silence that accompanies certain secrets. Or perhaps there’s a different explanation for what happened entirely.

Sometimes the scariest things in life are the most ordinary ones: the fear of death, how certain social conventions smother the truth, and what happens when a parent feels his or her child is in terrible danger but can’t convince anyone else of their suspicions.

Horror isn’t always about blood and gore. I hesitate to even use that label for this book because I know it will scare some of my readers away, but if you’re in the mood for something that transcends the typical plot for a ghost story this is an excellent place to start.

What have you been reading?

Our own economy tells us to take as much as we can get, right? Our own economy says, you’re going to be the most successful graduate if you go into the business world and take as much you can get. That’s not how nature works. Nature has a much simpler economy. Everything in nature takes what it needs. That’s it. You don’t see an oak tree gathering up all the resources. An oak tree takes what it needs to be the authentic oak tree it is.

– Tom Shadyac

While there is competition in nature, there are also limits to how much any one individual plant or animal can consume.

I have a few different endings in mind for After the Storm, but to be honest I’m running low on ideas on how to get there from here.  What’s interesting is that I’m not having the same issue with my other writing projects!

Readers, what have you liked the most about this serial so far? What haven’t you liked? Do you have any suggestions at to where the plot should go next?

Here is this week’s list of blog posts, satirical works, speeches, and other tidbits from my favourite corners of the web.

Interpretation. A comic strip about gender and communication that I couldn’t agree with more.

From Permission To Play Devil’s Advocate Denied:

It is our hope that future holders of the devil’s advocate position will be able to carry on your legacy: smiling as they argue for positions they only half-believe themselves with people who are attempting to discuss something sincerely and in good faith.

Tim Michin’s Amazing Graduation Speech. Take 20 minutes and listen to this. Most graduation speeches are far too sentimental and cloying for my tastes, but this one hits the nail on the head. I especially agree with points 7 and 8: “Define yourself by what you love” and “Respect people with less power than you.”

I Want to Be a Jello-Like Feminist via Crutch4. I love this philosophy.

Truthers or Liars? This blogger has noticed that his liberal friends are more likely to post easily-verifable stories on Facebook. He has a much harder time verifying stories and rumours from his conservative friends and he wonders why this is the case. For those of you who enjoy U.S. politics…what trends have you noticed? I’m wondering if this is confirmation bias!?

Do You Know How to Kiss a Girl? Who else wishes this gum was still for sale? Edit: Tumblr seems to be down as of 9:53 am today. I’ll leave this link up, but definitely check it again once Tumblr is back.

5 Scary Fairy Tales to Never Tell Your Children via Willowbecker. I read a ton of fairy tales as a kid, but I only recognized three of these stories. Fair warning: some of them are gruesome.

Lost Cat: A True Story of Love, Desperation, and GPS Technology is the goofiest thing I’ve read in years. My husband gave me a series of quizzical looks when I read this book because I kept bursting out in laughter.

The author’s cat, Tibby, disappears for five weeks shortly after the author is in a terrible accident. No one has any clue where the cat went, so when he returns the author decides to track him with a GPS device and camera to find out where Tibby goes when he wanders away from home. The resulting investigation is obsessive, informative, geeky, and absolutely hilarious.

I don’t normally share spoilers, but I think I should let my readers know that there is a sudden death of a minor (non-human) character not named Tibby in this book. This is an otherwise extremely lighthearted tale, so I feel ethically obligated to mention it.

What have you been reading?

I’ve been thinking about myths and legends lately. It’s easy to point out the mythology of other times and places: Zeus and his many consorts and offspring; Romulus and Remus; Coyote; King Arthur; Rostam; The Yaksha; Paul Bunyan; Prince Ōkuninushi.

Some people would include the stories in the holy books of the major religions in this category as well, of course. I tried to pick examples of religions that are either no longer followed or not taken to be literally true or infallible by the people who believe in them. While I don’t consider the term myth to be a slur by any stretch of the imagination, I know a lot of theists do when it’s applied to their beliefs and my intention here is not at all antagonistic.

What I would like to do today is to make projections about the future. 200, 500, 1000 years from now, what will schoolchildren (or bored college freshmen, or obsessive grad students) study when they take a course on the mythology of our time period?

Few people sit around campfires and tell legends these days, but as long as our species exists there will be stories that speak to us so much they are passed down from one generation to the next.

I can’t say for sure if all of these legends will survive long enough to be picked apart as examples of what our culture values, but I think they have a decent shot at it.

• Superheroes.  Superman and Batman have been part of pop culture for well over 70 years. Spiderman has been with us for a little over 50. Their stories are reshuffled for each generation to better reflect current trends, but their core identities remain the same.
• Zombies. They fade in and out of popularity, but war and economic depressions bring them back with a vengeance. With climate change predicted to have severe consequences for the environment and human society over the next few generations I strongly suspect the story of the dead coming back to life is here to stay.
• Urban Legends. What’s interesting about this category is how often they’re taken to be literally true. Everyone has a friend of a friend of a friend who claims to have dissolved a tooth in coke overnight, believes that roasted fetus is a delicacy in Taiwan, or narrowly escaped being bitten by venomous snakes in the ball pit of a local restaurant.
• Bigfoot. Mothman. Aliens. Some people believe these entities actually exist, but everyone know their basic stories. It would be nearly impossible to exist in modern day, western society without ever having heard of encounters with creatures like these.
• Slender Man. He’s the newest example of 21st century mythology I could find. Even though he’s completely made up (and from what I’ve read was actually intended to be a hoax from the beginning), rumours about him are swirling faster than they can be stamped out. If I end up getting another lifetime or if time travel is invented I half-expect him to become firmly entrenched in 22nd century culture.

What examples of 20th and 21st century mythology can you think of?

So I’m currently reading The Reason I Jump, a book written several years ago by a thirteen year old boy named Naoki Higashida about what it’s like to be autistic.  I’ve always assumed that people whose autism is as serious as Naoki’s are so involved in their own world that they’re not at all interested in other people.

Here is his answer to the question, “do you prefer to be on your own?”

‘Ah, don’t worry about him – he’d rather be on his own.’

How many times have we heard this? I can’t believe that anyone born as a human being really wants to be left all on their own, not really. No, for people with autism, what we’re anxious about is that we’re causing trouble for the rest of you, or even getting on your nerves. This is why it is hard for us to stay around other people. This is why we often end up being left on our own.

The truth is, we’d love to be around other people. But because things never, ever go right, we end up getting used to being alone, without even noticing this is happening. Whenever I overhear how much I prefer being on my own, it makes me feel desperately lonely. It’s as if they’re deliberately giving me the cold-shoulder treatment.

As far as I can tell there haven’t been any reports that this book is a fraud or a forgery. I sincerely hope these are really Naoki’s words because he has such an interesting point of view, but I will admit to being skeptical at a few different places in the book as to whether or not the opinions of the people around him bled into his work.

I sincerely hope this isn’t the case, though, and I do recommend checking this book out. It’s quite thought-provoking.

Photo by Oscarpanther.

Just tuning in? Start here.

“It’s ok! Flapjack loves people.”

Daphne stared at the disgruntled burro slowly flicking his ears as Sean adjusted the straps on his back. The plan was for Daphne to ride Flapjack to Salt River. She had slowly been increasing the distances she travelled away from home in an effort to discover the flexibility of her new mobility limits, but Daphne had no illusions about her ability to walk several miles over rugged terrain at a brisk pace.

Most burros weren’t strong or large enough to carry an adult. Since Flapjack was a little bigger than the average burro and Daphne was a few inches shorter than her peers, though, Sean thought it just might work.

Now if they could only get Flapjack to agree with his human’s prediction. He didn’t seem to mind it when Daphne climbed onto his back the first time to make sure her knee would allow her to ride him comfortably. The scratchy wool blanket Sean used as a makeshift saddle was briefly surprising, but once Flapjack adjusted to the occasional brush of fabric against his legs he accepted that change as well.

What really bothered him were the straps under his belly that were meant to keep the blanket in place and the harness Sean kept trying to pull over the irritated burro’s head. Every time Sean pulled the straps into a snug fit or attempted to use the harness Flapjack froze, glared at his human, and refused to budge until he was released. It didn’t help that Lemon was barking with excitement and straining at his leash. As much as Daphne would miss him today she was glad her furry companion was staying home. Every time the dog barked the muscles in Flapjack’s neck tensed up and his ears flew back against his head.

Paige and the children were staying home today, too, as Sean only had one burro capable of carrying an adult and the council needed Daphne to witness what was about to occur.

“What if you ride him bareback?” Ephraim asked.

“I don’t know if I could,” Daphne said. Truth be told she’d only ridden one other animal – a mule – as an adult, and that was nearly fifteen years ago when she was too pregnant to walk long distances any longer. Few families owned  mules or burros large enough to carry humans, and those that did tended to shy away from loaning them out. Carrying the handful of items they regularly traded with other communities was a far more valuable use of that energy.

“You might as well give it a try. It doesn’t look like he’s going anywhere the traditional way.” Isaac said as he hung back from the group. Daphne had not been pleased to learn that so much of the food she had preserved had fed MacArthur’s family over the summer. She knew their food supplies had been stolen and their land hijacked by the invaders, but she felt that her first responsibility was to keep her own family safe. Under different circumstances she would have been happy to share, but as it was she honestly didn’t have enough food for the folks she’d already assumed responsibility for.

Daphne sighed and nodded as Sean reluctantly removed the blanket, harness, and ropes. It wouldn’t be a very comfortable ride, but it was the best they could do. Sean helped her climb onto Flapjack’s back. The burro shook his head, flicked his ears, and took a hesitant step in the wrong direction.

Photo by Bernard Gagnon.

“This way, Jacky,” Sean said as Lemon pranced at the edge of his lease. Slowly but surely Flapjack followed his human companions to Salt River.

Salt River shrunk to about two-thirds of its original size each summer, but it was still the largest above ground body of water anyone in the Mingus Valley area had ever seen. Daphne and her companions were among the first Mingus people to arrive at the river that morning. Mariposa, one of the newly elected ombudsmen of Peoria, had arrived an hour earlier to make sure that their neighbours would have a friendly welcoming committee.

“Mariposa!” Sean shouted as his cousin stood up and shook the dust off of her pants. It had been nearly a year since their last meeting and despite the serious nature of this event he looked forward to hearing the latest news from the Peoria branch of his family tree. If nothing else it would serve as a welcomed respite from the inevitable conflicts that were  on their way.

When Gerald’s father was a young man the two communities had fought bitterly over water rights during an unusually severe drought that nearly wiped both of them out of existence. The treaty that ended that battle held fast for over 20 years, but when a shorter drought hit when Gerald was a young man the two communities briefly went back to raiding one another’s property in retribution.

It was during one of these skirmishes that Gerald lost two fingers on his left hand. He had always been a peaceful young man, and when his wounds healed he volunteered to serve on the council in the hope that peaceful resolutions to water rights would prevent his children from sustaining similar injuries when they came of age.

As the small crowd slowly coalesced, Gerald – who had just arrived – began handing out fishing poles and nets. With any luck they’d catch a few fish while they hashed out what each community knew about their sudden invaders and decided what should be done about it. After all of the supplies had been handed out and the lines cast the group began to talk.

Mariposa was surprised to hear that the soldiers had been so violent in Mingus. Her community had also been visited by them, but once everyone was vaccinated and all of the houses were thoroughly searched the soldiers paid little attention to what they did or where they went unless they wandered too close to Salt River.

She frowned as Gerald described the destruction of the Everson’s home and what happened when Aunt Lucy’s vaccine fell out.

“What I really don’t understand is why the soldiers didn’t vaccinate themselves,” she said. “Several days ago they stopped making courtesy calls on us, and when I sent a few scouts to check up on their encampment we realized that quite a few of them have that fever that was going around this summer.”

Isaac’s stomach lurched as he remembered what Alvarez had whispered to Rey Bryant after performing Isaac’s health scan a few weeks earlier.