Tag Archives: Creative Writing

Photo by Quinn Dombrowski.

Just tuning in? Catch up with parts one, two, three, four,  five,  six,  seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven,  twelve ,  thirteen, and fourteen of this story.

It wasn’t until the loose brick she’d pried from the kitchen hearth found its target that Paige realized the trespasser might still be human. She lit a lamp with shaking hands. As Paige crept up to figure out who had come into her home in the middle of the night she wondered if this would be the boulder that broke Horatio’s Scale.

After each lifetime the gods weighed your good deeds against your bad. The heavier side of the scale influenced whether your next lifetime was easy or difficult, long or short. Rarely someone would do something so terrible that Horatio’s Scale cracked underneath the weight of it all, and the punishment for this was becoming Death. Collect enough souls and you might get a second chance,  although Paige doubted the world was old enough for anyone to have served their full sentence yet.

The trespasser was human. Male. Breathing shallowly. Light brown hair matted with blood. His thin, wispy beard made her guess he was 14 or 15 years old, but he was small for his age. The only personal item in his possession was small black stone. She tossed it aside without a second glance.

Whatever his intentions tonight, they couldn’t have been good.  Daphne rolled him onto his back and wondered what to do next. Was he a drifter or would someone come looking for him in a few days? Her thoughts were interrupted by Wilma’s cries, and she left the stranger alone to tend to her great-grandaughter.

*********

Isaac’s eyes grew big when he returned to Paige’s house. The soldier was alive for now, but his pupils were uneven and the wound on his head continued to seep. There were no bandages, and Isaac didn’t know how the local gods would feel about being interceded for the fate of a stranger, but he sent a silent prayer to them anyway as he wiped away the blood and began applying pressure on the wound.

“I thought he was Death,” Paige said as she snuffed out the sputtering lamp, added more oil, and then relit it. Isaac was about to ask her what she meant when she spoke up again. “I’d never hurt a real person.” Had her fever been that high? It was as if she was telling him one of the fairy stories from her childhood about flying wagons and people that appeared and disappeared at will, not recounting something that had happened within the last hour.

“What do we do now?” Paige asked after Daphne’s son explained what little he knew of the stranger’s origins. Was it better to try to contact the army leader and explain what happened or wait until they came looking for their comrade? The boy’s breathing was slowing down, and Isaac wondered if he’d live long enough for them to fix everything.

“We have to treat him here,” Isaac said. He knew almost nothing about medicine, but he doubted it would be wise to move someone with such a serious wound. People with even the worst injuries sometimes recovered if you stopped the bleeding and gave their bodies time to heal.

Paige started a fire with the wood Isaac had brought in while he did his best to keep the soldier alive. By the time the fire grew large enough to illuminate the puddle of blood at the entryway Isaac realized that his efforts were in vain. The stranger never regained consciousness. Isaac wished he knew what the soldier was doing creeping around in the middle of the night. When the next soldier came looking for his or her comrade Paige and the child would have no way to defend themselves, and neither one was strong enough to go running for help. All Isaac could do was hope his mother understood in the morning.

*****

Suddenly Daphne was wide awake, her heart thumping wildly as she shifted to a less painful sleeping position. Lemon whined and licked her hand. Morning light was just beginning to leak through the front door, and for a second she didn’t notice Delphine’s daughter curled up next to the dog. How on earth did a sick toddler walk three miles through the freezing desert in the middle of the night?

Isaac was sitting at the kitchen table staring at the steam rising from his cup of tea. Daphne’s stomach clenched in apprehension as he recounted the strange events from the night before. She’d been suspicious of the soldier’s intentions before, but learning that they were targeting other families as well strengthened her resolve to fight back. All she had to do first was figure out how to keep the vapours that had made Willa and Delphine so ill from spreading to anyone else.

“Set up the travelling tents in the front yard,” she told her son. “You, Ephraim, and Felix will sleep outside for now. I’ll look after the others.” She shuddered at the thought of getting ill, but Daphne preferred taking that risk herself over asking her sons to do it. Paige would be well soon anyway, and between the two of them they could hopefully nurse the girl back to health as well.

Isaac stared at her in disbelief. It was rare for his mother to change her mind so rapidly. As a boy he’d often been frustrated by her obstinate refusal to change her mind once she made up her mind about something. Even Nevaeh had struggled to get through to her when she’d decided to push her kids into doing something for their own good.

Then again, nothing like this had ever happened before and Nevaeh was no longer around to temper Daphne’s stubbornness.

Just tuning in? Catch up with parts one, two, three, four,  five,  six,  seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven,  twelve , and thirteen of this story.

Paige sat the little stone table her first wife had carved as a wedding present for her decades ago. It was funny how quickly time passed. Fifty happy, painful, warm, and exhausting years flew by in a heartbeat, and now that beat might end.

Death would be returning soon. He’d spirited Nevaeh away a few hours ago. Paige doubted her only daughter had felt anything other than relief when she heard him whisper something into her right ear. At dusk he’d come back for Delphine.

Her granddaughter had grudgingly married the man her grandmother chose and learned to like the names Felix, Wilma,and Malachi after Nevaeh picked them out. Paige never would have guessed the timid girl had some fight in her after all. Her final kick cracked his clavicle and for a moment both women thought she would be victorious. If only Delphine had focused on her burning desire to remain with her surviving children as the pale one leaned forward and whispered something in her right ear.

In the end she’d gone with him more or less willingly.

Wilma was breathing more easily now. Her fever raged on, but she hadn’t coughed up fresh blood in hours. The girl slept next to the half-warm embers of the kitchen fire as Death stumbled back into the house. His limp, damp, dusty robes slid past his still-healing clavicle as he bent over to unfasten the chain from his waist.

“Your work here is finished,” Paige said with a tight-lipped smile as she straightened her spine and stood up. She was a smidgen over 5 feet tall and weighed less than 90 pounds, but she expanded her will to fill every inch of it in what could be her final battle.

“I just want to bring you home,” Death sighed. As a small child she’d snapped off the tip of his left index finger when a poisonous snake bit her ankle, and she’d almost severed his skull from his spinal column when she haemorrhaged after the birth of her first child. He had only recently regained feeling in that vertebra. “It isn’t painful, and you’ll be reunited with your wives and children again in the next lifetime.” She crossed her arms and leaned forward as Wilma coughed and scooted closer to the ashes.

“The Mingus need five things for a good death,” she said with a flat tone as she counted them off one finger at a time. “One, to be aware it’s coming. Two, to have one last chance to make amends for past wrongs. Three, to say goodbye to loved ones. Four, to choose the hour in which it happens. Five, to be buried with the acknowledgement of your good deeds so the gods reward you with an auspicious rebirth.”

People who died quickly or who were buried improperly struggled to adjust to the afterlife and could be quite restless in their next incarnation.  Paige refused to be one of them. Dusty trails, child-birthing rooms, and cold, hard kitchen benches in the middle of the night were unseemly places to die. Death should know by now that she was a stickler for the rules, and if he ever hoped to take her peacefully it would be when she was surrounded by loved ones and assured of a proper burial.

The standoff began.

*****

The old woman was slumped over the table, her thin face buried in the crook of her arm when Isaac walked in the front door. For a long, terrible moment the room overflowed with silence until he heard her grunt and choke on the slowly thinning secretions in her lungs as she shifted positions. Isaac went to check on the remaining members of her family.

The child was still alive. Nevaeh and Delphine were not. There were no ceremonial skins left to wrap them in and no time to transcribe their deeds on the dirty, wool blankets they would carry to the next world. He worked quickly and quietly, and he was so absorbed in choking back his grief and bringing the bodies out to the front yard that Isaac never noticed the soldier wedged under the bushes tapping furiously away at a small, black, glowing stone.

Melvin Watts looked up when he heard him coming and quickly wiped the front of the stone clean. For a brief moment the faint light from the screen grew brighter before it dulled to what appeared to be a rough, light brown finish.  If something happened to him now or if the tablet was lost none of these peasants would look twice at it. They couldn’t even be trusted to dispense the vaccine when they were sent enough doses to immunize twice as many people as were projected to live in this hellhole.

At least he’d finally been upgraded to a proper communication device. Mel had hated writing down every detail of that boring old woman’s life, especially when he knew he’d have to type it all out again as soon as he got back to base camp. He couldn’t understand why anyone would design such fragile handwriting scanners when they knew folks like him would be using them in an extremely dusty climate. Hopefully this tablet lasted longer than the remainder of his deployment. He would definitely not be reenlisting in August.

When Isaac dragged the bodies a safe distance from the house for burial Melvin decided to turn his equipment back on and quickly scan the empty rooms. His superiors had just increased the bonus to 100,000 credits for anyone who discovered information leading to the arrest of the Pucey brothers. Bringing back news of hidden rooms and contraband items earned less of a reward, but even a few hundred credits would make Mel a happy man when they returned to civilization.

As he skittered across the yard Paige moaned and sat up. Her temples throbbed and there was a crick in her neck. As she gingerly stretched her sore muscles she heard something rustle at the front door.

Just tuning in? Catch up with parts one, two, three, four,  five,  six,  seven, eight, nine, ten , and eleven of this story.

Daphne heard her left knee click as she gingerly stretched her legs and crawled out of bed. It was even more stiff and painful than usual, but the only strenuous activity she’d indulged in the day before was moving the drying racks from one end of the yard to the other.

She groaned and steadied herself against the wall before continuing on to the kitchen. Every step sent a flicker of pain deep into her joint. The boys would have to help Paige on their own today.

Ephraim and Isaac insisted on setting her up with a pitcher of water and assembling a cold breakfast for her first. They left her sitting in her favourite chair in front of the house with Lemon curled up sleeping beside her.

“How many bodies did you bury with Doc Porter?” Isaac asked once they’d rounded the bend. The last time a serious epidemic had hit Mingus Mountain he’d been too ill to attend the mass funerals and too young to dig graves even if he had been healthy.

“None,” Ephraim said. “There was one guy with a bad leg infection who is probably dead now, but all of the Docs patients were still alive when he sent me home.” Unlike his brother, Ephraim had seen a dead body before it was prepared for the next life once. Old Man Winterson’s nonsensical prophecies had once been the talk of the community. He claimed to speak for the gods, but once Daphne realized that the old man’s message swung from vivid predictions of mass starvation to peaceful descriptions of wolves nuzzling wild hares depending on how recently he’d  found something to eat she told her sons to ignore his ramblings. Isaac listened, Ephraim did not. It was because of his interest in Old Man Winterson’s conflicting messages that Ephraim discovered him curled up beside the courthouse, his favourite place for impromptu sermons, one afternoon while bringing a message to one of the adults inside the building. The old man was caked in dust and sweat, but in death his face has lost its fearful, angry edge. If this was peace Abraham had found it.

Isaac was a little disappointed by his brother’s response. The thought of wrapping up a dead baby and burying it creeped him out a little. Yes, it was sad that he died, but this sort of thing happened to almost every family eventually.

The Davenport’s yard smelled like stale urine and rotting vegetables. Ephraim shouted a customary hello as they approached the front door, but no one answered them. The stench grew stronger when they entered the dark, still house. Now a new scent tickled their noses: stale blood.

No one had banked the fire the night before, and the overflowing ashes were cool to the touch. Once their eyes adjusted to the dim light Isaac noticed a small bundle wrapped in a dirty blanket lying on the kitchen table.

“Hello,” said a small voice. Felix’s greasy curls hung limply over his pale face.

“Hi Felix,” Ephraim said as he slid his knapsack to the floor and kneeled down to greet the boy. “We’re here to help your grandmother with something. Can you tell us where she is?”

“Everybody’s sleeping,” he said with a shrug as he motioned to the bedroom. Ephraim felt a chill shudder down his spine as he exchanged nervous glances with his brother.

“Isaac brought you some lunch. Why don’t you two go out into the yard and eat while I wake them up?”

“Ok,” said Felix. He’d long since finished the last of the bread, and when the fire ran out of fuel he couldn’t figure out an alternative way to crack open the small, hard nuts that were all that remained of the family’s larder.

Ephraim rummaged a small lamp from the kitchen, lit it, and opened the bedroom door. He waited for his eyes to adjust before entering the small, stifling room, but immediately he heard the slow crackle of someone struggling to breathe. Nevaeh’s glassy eyes stared through him as he slowly circled the room.

“We’re here to help,” Ephraim said. She didn’t seem to notice he was there. It wasn’t until he knelt down to tuck a blanket around Lucio  that he noticed the young father’s blue lips and cool skin. He wiped away a dribble of blood on Lucio’s cheek and gently lifted the blanket over his head. Delphine and their three-year-old daughter, Wilma, were emaciated and sleeping so deeply Ephraim had trouble rousing them, but they were breathing much more easily than Nevaeh. Paige woke up startled when she heard Ephraim talking to the living in a low, steady voice. She was momentarily disoriented, but her fever was mild and her breathing steady. It was funny how this fever tended to affect the young and healthy much more severely than other groups.

Ephraim and Isaac had only intended to stay for an hour,but It took all morning to scrub down the kitchen and quickly bury Lucio and little Malachi. After breakfast and a much-needed bath Felix curled up next to his sister. Ephraim knew the sick should be quarantined, but there were no other safe places for the boy to sleep while the adults worked. If he’d survived this long without catching it he probably wouldn’t get sick anyway.

“They’re dangerous ill,” Ephraim quietly confided to his brother as they lugged the final jugs of dirty water to the edge of the yard and tipped them out. “And I don’t want to risk bringing this disease home to mom. I know this fever doesn’t seem to spread like normal diseases, but the gods could change their minds about that at any point.”

“What will we do, then?”

“We could bring the boy home with us temporarily. He’s healthy and strong for his age even if he’s two-souled.”

“And leave the rest to die?” Isaac couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Ephraim was usually the more sensitive twin.

“No, we’d visit them every morning with food and water before we went out to finish the harvesting. No herb can save them, and if we don’t breathe in too much of their poisoned air we probably won’t get sick.”

“I don’t like the sound of this plan. What if coyotes attack or there’s a fire? They’d never be strong enough to get away from it.”

“Well, what do you suggest we do then?”

Photo by Mike.

Just tuning in? Catch up with parts one, two, three, four,  five,  six,  seven, eight, nine, and ten of this story.

“The house is clean,” said the man as he walked out of Daphne’s house. “Their only weapons were a few hunting knives, and we found no evidence of extra people living here.” The woman standing outside the door nodded.

“Call off your dog and we’ll leave,” she said. When Daphne clicked her tongue Lemon looked up expectantly. He still hadn’t figured out where the strange man was hiding his cheese, but he could smell the remnants of it. Isaac wrapped his muscular arms around the dog’s neck and gently tugged him away. The motley crew slowly dribbled away from the house, but as they walked down the dusty path to the main road one of the youngest soldiers turned around to stare at the woman and boys who were watching them leave.

There was something off about this family. If only they’d found some scrap of evidence to warrant further investigation. As they walked away his commanding officer slowed down her pace until he caught up with her.

In a low, quiet voice she gave him his orders for the next few days.

*****

Paige limped up the path to Daphne’s house, her long, white hair slowly wriggling free of its braid. She wore a tunic smeared with a dry, light brown substance Daphne couldn’t quite identify, and she leaned heavily on her walking stick as the younger woman approached her. It was quite unusual for Paige to walk this far at all, much less on her own at the hottest part of the day. Nevaeh normally travelled with her mother on the rare occasions that she needed to walk more than a few miles.

“Would you like some water?” Daphne asked, a little surprised that anyone would come looking for her at her home during harvest time. If not for her tender knee, Daphne would have been digging up the harvest with her sons this afternoon, but there had been so few visitors lately that no one knew it had been bothering her again.

The woman nodded. Daphne ushered her inside for a cup of warm, stale well water. Lemon was  sleeping soundly underneath the kitchen table, but he opened one groggy eye and thumped his tail in recognition of the family’s closest neighbour.

“No one’s sick here,” Paige said with a note of surprise. She’d always held a sneaking suspicion that the gods were just. Surely they would show more mercy to a woman who worshipped them and followed even their most heartbreaking rules than to someone who did not.

“No, we’ve been lucky so far,” Daphne said as she set the cups down. “How are you?”

“We need help,” Paige said. The sickness had struck her household particularly harshly. The baby had slipped away quietly. While his father, older brother, and sister seemed to be on the mend, Paige could not say the same thing for her daughter or granddaughter. She described her long, gruelling days caring for a house full of sick relatives as her grandson-in-law staggered through the harvesting process. Only one other neighbour had been within walking distance for an old woman with a bad hip, and he had been too overwhelmed with his own sick family and overripe harvest to offer any assistance. As much as she privately disliked Daphne, Paige had no choice but to ask for help.

Daphne listened to Paige’s story quietly. Last year she and her sons had finished their harvesting and food preservation with time to spare, but now only two of them were physically able to carry those heavy baskets home. Once her sons came home this afternoon she’d be busy drying and preserving everything as quickly as possible before insects or mould snatched away months of hard work.

“We can’t help with your harvest until ours is finished,” Daphne said. Food shortages were on the way, and if she didn’t look out for her own family they’d starve over the summer. “But we can help you bury the baby.”

“How soon will you be finished?” Paige was in no position to argue.

“A few weeks,” Daphne said. “Although once the harvesting portion is completed I’ll be able to spare one of my boys while the other one helps me preserve the rest of our provisions.”

Would her crops hold? Paige could only hope so. The pitiful amount she’d managed to put away so far wouldn’t keep her family alive for more than a week.

*****

Melvin Watts inched the notebook out of his boot as the old woman walked by and dutifully jotted down a description of her. He was too far away to hear their conversation, of course, but she was the first visitor this house had seen in the past two days. Before he heard her hobbling up the path Melvin had been resting his eyes in the shade of the rocks he had wiggled in between. His dusty uniform and naturally light brown hair blended in well with his surroundings. It wasn’t quite camouflage, but it was difficult to see him if you weren’t expecting to find a tall, thin boy lying down in the dirt.

Melvin’s commanding officer had insisted this family was hiding something, but so far his surveillance had turned up nothing. Privately he doubted the two old women were in cahoots but orders were orders, and it was better to earn a sunburn through boredom than on the battlefield.

Photo by Jim Schoch.

Just tuning in? Catch up with parts one, two, three, four,  five,  six,  seven, eight, and nine of this story.

Daphne’s knee was on fire by the time she arrived at the creek. The long walk to collect water had been shrouded in stony silence. Even Lemon sensed the heavy mood in his pack, and he managed to avoid chasing almost all of the rabbits who bolted across their path.

“What did the snail say when he hitched a ride on the turtle’s back?” Ephraim asked as they lowered their jugs. Daphne and Isaac exchanged puzzled glances but said nothing.

“Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!” Ephraim said with  a grin.

“Ugh,” Isaac said. “That’s your worst one yet.”

“It’s funny, though!”

“No, it’s dumb. Mom, tell him it’s not funny.”

“What? Snails are hysterical. I even saw your mouth twitch once your pea brain understood the joke.”

“Yes, I was amazed at your stupidity. Mom must have dropped you on your head when you were a baby.”

Daphne sighed and shook her head. “Boys,” she said, “We have five large jugs, and you can see how shallow the stream is this time of year. Stop arguing.”

“I was just trying to lighten the mood,” Ephraim grumbled. Three more people had died of the mysterious disease in the last week. Dozens more were ill, and all community functions had been cancelled while families cared for their own. Nevaeh’s visits had slowed to a trickle once her daughter and newborn grandson grew ill, but on her last visit she’d shared curious stories about soldiers who had shown up at the courthouse just after Daphne left.

They were looking for the man who died in the flash flood earlier in the year, and their leader was disappointed when Lucio showed them where he was buried and the few, waterlogged possessions he left behind. Rumour has it they were going from house to house to see if what Lucio told them was actually true. Daphne wasn’t sure if she should be relieved that the mysterious stranger would be mourned by someone or annoyed that soldiers would soon trample through her house in search of clues that didn’t actually exist.

Daphne grimaced as she lifted the last jug out of Shade Creek. Pain shot through her leg as she attempted to lift it.

“I can’t do it,” she admitted. She knew it was foolhardy to run all the way home last week, but her knee really should have improved by now. Not counting the original injury she’d never been incapacitated more than a few days after pushing herself too far.

“You’re getting old, Mom,” Ephraim said with a wry smile. “Leave it here. I can always come back later to pick it up.”

“I’m not old, I’m tired,” Daphne said.

“Is that why you have so many grey hairs?”

“Ephraim Galen, you know I have a sore leg.” Isaac’s top lip quivered before he turned his head away and pretended to adjust the straps on his jugs.

“I’m joking, I’m joking!”

“You’re not supposed to tease people about these things,” she said as she rubbed her knee and took a slow, hesitant step east. The pain had settled down to a dull roar. She would pay dearly for it tomorrow, but today she just might be able to make it home.

*****

Two people in dusty, brown uniforms were milling outside their house when Daphne and her family arrived at the small house her grandfather had built so many years ago. Lemon barked in glee and ran up to greet them.

“That is one terrible guard dog,” Isaac said quietly. “I thought he was supposed to keep you safe when we’re away?”

“He does,” Daphne said. “He chases all of the mice and rabbits away and licks every visitor to death if they show the slightest interest in petting him.”

“Greetings!” the shorter soldier said with a bright smile. “Your neighbours told us you were out drawing water and should be home soon after dinner. The People’s Republic of Utah has ignored rural concerns for far too long. We’re here to fix that.”

“What does that have to do with you searching my home?” Daphne asked cooly.

“We’re looking for evidence that will lead us to some very dangerous people. I assure you that none of your personal belongings will be harmed in any way,” came her cheerful reply as Lemon finished licking the stranger’s hands and began sniffing the pale, nervous man standing next to her.

“I’m not hiding anyone or anything,” Daphne said as she straightened her spine to take advantage of all of the five feet, two inches of her height. “You don’t have the right to do this.”

“Oh, we’re not illegally searching your property,” the woman said as Lemon’s nose inched between the man’s legs. “The constitution specifically states that any search is warranted if it is carried out as part of a legitimate police investigation. Look, I have the paperwork right here.”

The last few drops of color leeched out of the frightened man’s face as he crushed himself against the wall.

“Call off your hell beast,” he said with a squeak. Ephraim and Isaac sniggered until a sharp look from their mother wiped the smiles from their faces.

“Private Sutter, it’s just a dog,” the woman said as she unfolded a long, dirty sheet of paper.  An idea was forming in Daphne’s mind.

“I have had some training issues with him,” Daphne said. “If he thinks you’re a threat, there’s not much I can do to stop him.” Private Sutter gasped and closed his eyes as the dog began licking the man’s hands.

“Why do you think your soldiers haven’t found any other animals on the property? Even the mice know what he’s capable of,” Isaac said. If nothing else, he had inherited his father’s ability to spin the truth in so many circles it fainted under the pressure of weaving lies and and the truth into one seamless garment.

“It is odd that they don’t own livestock,” said an older man as he walked out of the front door. Two skinny teenagers in uniforms several sizes too large for them quickly followed him. “They’re the only family in the valley that doesn’t have any sheep, chickens, or goats, and I’ve seen what can happen when an uncontrolled dog thinks you’re threatening her family.” Daphne wondered when he would realize Lemon was neither female nor dangerous.

“I’m sure we can work something out,” the woman said. Every other family had read her orders and given in. It was odd that this one put up so much resistance  but she was determined to get to the bottom of it. Maybe they’d finally get somewhere in this investigation?

Photo by Böhringer Friedrich.

Just tuning in? Catch up with parts one, two, three, four,  five,  six and seven of this story.

The body looked even smaller after Naomi left it.

She had always been an exceptionally petite woman. Had they been married in a less obligatory manner, Daphne would have found it funny that someone as tall and brawny as MacArthur had ended up with a wife well over a hundred pounds smaller and a foot shorter than him.

For a brief second Daphne wondered how her life would have turned out if she’d agreed to become his third wife. The order had been unanimously ratified, and all it needed to become official was her consent.

A pot rattled in the kitchen as two voices rose to a murmur. Daphne kept sewing. It always amazed her to see how quickly a house quieted after a death in the family even with half a dozen grandchildren underfoot.

Naomi had not lead an exceptional life. Married twice and widowed once, she had never remained a mother.  The frail, grey, naked shell curled up next to the fireplace as if she had simply settled into a long nap after working all day.

The shroud was finished. Daphne opened her mouth to call out for assistance and then closed it again. It would be more dignified to do this on her own.

She unfolded the makeshift, sheepskin blanket onto the floor next to Naomi and slowly rolled the body over until it was in the centre of the shroud. Gathering up the loose ends of the blanket she began to sew the edges shut.

No, this wasn’t right. Daphne looked around with a furtive glance. Was anyone watching? She didn’t think so. Rachel had already scorched the outside of the shroud twice for her sister-wife’s two marriages. She left no evidence of the babies, though. Traditionally, only the ones who survived the first year of life were included, and none of Naomi’s babies had lived more than a few days.

Daphne dipped her needle in the cooling ashes of the fireplace and hastily made five small, black notches in the inside corner of the blanket. Had there been a sixth? Daphne wasn’t sure. After the first few Naomi withdrew from the world just as her condition became obvious. Once she’d sewn it up no one would know it was there, but she hoped the tally would help Naomi remember her children in the afterlife. Perhaps they would even be reunited.

“I’m ready,” she called out. Her sons and a few other healthy family members transferred the body to a stretcher and followed Daphne as she lead it outside.

Naomi was silently laid to rest in the Everson cave. Unlike most families, MacArthur’s clan had a direct route to the underworld. Naomi should be able to find her way there quickly. Her spirit wouldn’t even have to dig out of the grave first.

***

This was not the reunion dinner MacArthur had planned. Yes, the remainder of his family was breaking bread under the same roof, but he was too weak to stand, much less join them. From his bed he heard Daphne gasp with laughter when one of the grandchildren asked her a question in a voice just a little too quiet for him to understand even with his breath held and  the door wide open.

“Are you hungry? I brought you some bread and soup,” Daphne said, carrying a wooden bowl to his bedside as her brown eyes bored imaginary holes into his chest. She laid the bowl down on the bed without touching his sleeping roll and started walking away.

“Thank you,” he said. She paused and nodded briefly before leaving him in silence. He was surprised she was willing to enter this room again. For the first several years of their sons’ lives she had refused to bring them to his front yard or allow him to enter her home. All of the visits had taken place outdoors in front of the temple just after the biggest community events.

It had been such an inconvenience. MacArthur was glad to see she was becoming more reasonable in her old age, although he wondered if his present condition had anything to do with it.

***

Another week, another court case. Four, actually.

While voting on the first two Daphne wondered why she kept seeing the same faces over and over again. Yes, water was a precious resource, but did Mr. Hart really think that he could keep either set of neighbours from using it?

Sigh. She voted the same way she did when Mr. Hart had been the plaintiff three weeks ago. Either everyone pulled together to survive or no one would live to see autumn.

The Swood boys were back for the second week in a row as well. This time they were charged with disturbing the peace the night before with a violent fight. Marcus, the younger one, stared at her through purple, puffy eyes as she questioned him about what happened. Once again, neither he nor Liam remembered any of the things the witnesses had described. If not for the broken noses and missing front teeth of their victims Daphne would have wondered if the victims were exaggerating. She didn’t think that Liam and Marcus were exactly innocent, but their forthright denial of everything made it easy to wonder if the insults hurled at the beginning of the fight had been some sort of misunderstanding.

Lucio called a recess while the omsbudmen conferred. This time they were all in agreement. Marcus and Liam clearly had not learned anything from their last sentence, so this one would be stricter. The brothers would be separated and sent to apprenticeships on opposite sides of the valley for the summer. The court hoped that a few months learning new skills and spending time apart from one another would simmer the boys’ anger.

“Daphne, I hate to do this to you,” Lucio said as they reconvened for the final case. “But Gerald and Eva have to sit out on this ruling because it involves their family, and we can’t vote with less than three ombudsmen.” Her stomach dropped as he described the details of it.

“Our final case is a custody hearing,” Lucio said. “Would Gabriel and Kiva Perez please rise?”

Photo by Jim Schoch.

Just starting out? Click here.

The courtroom was as small and airless as ever. It had been early September the last time she was here, and even though the temperature had finally dipped below 100 F her damp dress clung to the  pooch in her abdomen that had slowly become impossible for anyone to overlook.

Somehow she was no less nervous today even though neither her first nor this appearance in court was as a defendant. She reached down to pat Lemon’s soft, furry head. Lucio flashed a genuine smile at her as he walked into the room, the other ombudsmen following close behind.

Aunt Lucy, the oldest surviving citizen of the Mingus Mountain community, entered first with a confident stride. If Daphne had to guess she’d say the first ombudman was in her late 80s or early 90s as she could not remember this woman ever being young. The gods had never seen fit to give Aunt Lucy children, but they had given her robust health and an impossibly long life. Her presence in the community was so ubiquitous that after a few generations people began jokingly referring to Lucy as the aunt that  will never die. It was (usually) said in admiration, but the nickname still stuck.

A middle-aged man with a port wine birthmark covering the left side of his face entered the room next. Gerald Perez’s previous lives must have been exceptional for him to know so much happiness in this one. All five of his children were alive and well, his wife was one of the few literate people in the valley, and  his herd of goats had grown so rapidly he ended up giving away half of them one memorable summer. Not everyone always agreed with his rulings, but most respected his judgment and desire to divide hotly-contested property fairly. Gerald had cast the deciding vote in the case Daphne tried to keep tucked in the back of her mind.

Finally, a stocky teenage girl walked into the courtroom stroking her round belly.  Daphne stared in shock as the girl immediately sat down at the far end of the ombudsmen’s table. Eva Harris was only a few months older than Daphne’s sons. How was it possible for her to face the possibility of motherhood before she turned 15? Most of the women Daphne knew well hadn’t had their first child until they were several years older than Eva. If only there was a polite way to ask the girl who the other parent might be if the gods were lenient.

“Daphne, your seat is in the middle,” Lucio said as the room began to fill up with plaintiffs, defendants and members of the general public. She had been hoping to sit at the edge of the table by the solitary window in the room so she could steal glances at snaggletooth rock. It was overwhelming to be surrounded by the nervous energy of dozens of other people when she was used to going days without seeing anyone.

Reluctantly, Daphne sat in the middle seat behind the ombudsmen’s table and waited for the hearings to begin. Lemon squeezed under the table and curled up around her legs. When everyone was seated Lucio stood and began speaking.

“Presiding over this hearing today is Gerald Perez, Aunt Lucy, Daphne Lewis, Eva Perez…”

 Oh, so it was one of Gerald’s children, thought Daphne. That narrows it down considerably, but it also is going to make waves.

It was unheard of for two members of the same family to serve as ombudsmen simultaneously. The risk of blood relatives banding together to vote for their own best interests instead of what would do the most good for the community as a whole was too high. Lucio really must have been desperate for volunteers if he’d accepted such an arrangement. No wonder he had insisted she take a turn.

“And yours truly. Today we have three cases on the docket. Will Daniel Hart please rise?”

The morning scraped along. Lucio’s prediction had been right. The first two cases involved old men – none of whom looked as though they’d bathed or washed their clothing since last autumn – arguing about water rights for their livestock and gardens. In both cases Daphne voted with the rest the council and instructed the plaintiff’s to share the resources equally.

It really was the only way to survive in this world. During a drought especially there was no such thing as privately-owned watering holes, and anyone who lay down with a full belly or demanded unfair trade agreements with starving neighbours was considered monstrous.

Daphne had learned this lesson the hard way. Sadly, not everyone followed the rule if they thought they could get away with it. Some families tilled more fertile soil or had hardier livestock than others, and it was difficult to get them to understand the importance of feeding their neighbours unless they’d had a prolonged taste of hunger or thirst. Maybe this was why so many of the cases on the docket involved hoarding.

“Finally,” Lucio said, “Liam and Marcus Swood, please rise.” Two scowling teenage boys stood and glared at the five adults who were about to decide their fate.

“Ella Graber claims you broke the door to her chicken coop,” Lucio said. “She lost four birds last week and would like to know how you plan to compensate her.”  Liam and Marcus stared at Daphne, the only face on the committee they hadn’t seen before. She shifted uncomfortable in her wooden chair and looked away. How could two boys barely into their teens be so full of hostility, and why was it directed at her?

“We didn’t do nothing,” Liam finally said. Lucio sighed and called Ella to the stand. She gave a detailed description of the clothing they had been wearing that afternoon and a list of witnesses who had seen the boys poking around her coop just before the chickens took flight.

When asked for an alibi the boys shrugged and said they’d been around. Neither one could produce a coherent story about where they had been or provide a list of people who could vouch for their activities that day. Daphne was torn between wanting to help and feeling frustrated with their flippant responses and lack of interest in taking this hearing seriously.

Tensions in the room grew.

The court room was temporarily cleared and the matter was put to a vote. All five members of the council agreed that Liam and Marcus were almost certainly responsible for Ella’s loss of livestock. Aunt Lucy and Lucio wondered why kids barely into their teens were being tried as adults. Surely their parents should be held at least partially responsible? Why not call it a mistrial, and prosecute the ones who raised them?

The Perez’s strongly disagreed.

“If you’re old enough to make a decision you’re old enough to face the consequences of it,” said Eva as Gerald nodded in agreement. “They need to work off their debt to Ella and the community at large.”

The tie-breaking decision lay in Daphne’s hands. She took a deep breath and said, “I agree with Eva. Let them learn to take some responsibility by building a bigger, stronger coop for Ella and her family.”

Daphne’s shoulders relaxed as she walked out of the courthouse. A full week of relaxation lay ahead of her before she had to face it again. Suddenly Lemon darted ahead of her barking with excitement.

Ephraim and Isaac were standing in the courtyard grinning at her.

“Mom!”

Next chapter.

Photo by Jim Schoch.

Just starting out? Click here.

Squeak.

Daphne willed her heavy eyes to open. Between worrying about what another epidemic would do to  her community and comforting a lonely boy who insisted on going home to meet his new brother she hadn’t caught much sleep the night before. It was sunrise now. Barely.

At some point in the wee hours of the morning Felix had slipped from his bed to her own. His small, brown limbs had somehow expanded to fill three-quarters of the available space. Daphne wondered how his younger sister fared when they shared sleeping quarters. She was  so petite for her age.

Squeak.

Daphne quietly peeled herself out of bed as the sun kissed the foothills awake.

“Lemon, what are you doing?” she asked as she lit a lamp and gently stretched the crick out of her neck. The dog licked his muzzle as a small, brown mouse scurried to freedom.

“Not another one!” Daphne said. Even the cleanest kitchen was bound to attract the attention of rodents eventually but that didn’t mean she wanted to hurt them. After a few unfortunate incidents Daphne wondered briefly if Lemon had been a cat in a previous lifetime. He had an uncanny ability to sniff out mice in the kitchen and seemed to think hunting them down was a game. Had she not interrupted them Daphne knew he would have caught this one.

Felix stirred as Daphne began preparing their simple breakfast. She’d enjoyed his visit but was glad  he was returning home today. It will be be nice to have my quiet days back, she thought as she packed up the boy’s belongings while he finished eating.

Nevaeh’s house was humming with activity as Daphne, Felix and Lemon walked up the dusty path to it. Rachel stared off into the distance with a blank expression on her face while Delphine’s husband Lucio and two other men Daphne didn’t immediately recognize bowed their heads and took turns speaking softly to her.

One of the strangers appeared to be a few years older than her, the other one at least a decade younger. Both men wore faded, dusty ponchos and held onto the grim smiles of travellers who’d ran out of fortitude halfway through their journey.

Daphne greeted them with a watery smile while she wondered what Rachel was doing on the other side of the valley this early in the morning. MacArthur’s effervescent first wife loved capturing everyone’s attention with a bawdy story but rarely showed up anywhere before noon.

Photo by Jim Schoch.

Something was wrong.

Their voices quieted as Daphne and her charges approached the house. Felix and Lemon ran into the house to greet his little sister.

“I heard MacArthur visited you a few days ago. Do you feel ill?” Lucio asked after they exchanged morning greetings. The creases on his forehead melted away when she told him she and the boy were healthy, but Daphne’s heart sank when Rachel described how quickly her husband and sister-wife became ill.

Naomi had come down with flu-like symptoms just before MacArthur’s latest trading mission. By the time he returned home he was just beginning to feel sick as well. Their oldest daughter was looking after them while Rachel sought help.

Stories from other families experiencing similar illnesses had surfaced from as far away as Cottonwood and Prescott. The strangers were emissaries from local communities who were attempting to learn more about where this epidemic came from and how deadly it might be. No one could thwart the will of the gods, of course, but at least they could know what to expect.

Unlike other epidemics, though, this one wasn’t responding to quarantines and carried off healthy adults even more quickly than it did the very young or very old. What was even more puzzling was how it moved around. Some families lost several members while others never became sick at all.

“…So we’re going to need you to volunteer on the tribunal until this blows over,” Lucio said.

“Well, I don’t do that,” Daphne said. “I’m happy to cook you a hot lunch, but I have no interest in anything else.” Technically one representative from every household was required to serve on the tribunal on a rotating basis. When her children were growing up Daphne was given an exemption as a single parent, and a few years ago she’d earned another exemption when her knee was badly injured and she wasn’t physically able to walk that far. She was happy to share supplies, but after her experience on the other side of the table she hated the thought of being back in that small, stuffy room almost as much as she dreaded once again being the centre of attention.

“You don’t really have a choice,” came the soft reply. “Half of our members lost crops in that damned flash flood and won’t have anything to eat this summer if they can’t find other sources of food, Sean Reed has a house full of sick kids, and no one has heard from the Perez family in weeks. We desperately need new judges.”

Daphne was a low, sandstone wall slapped together by an Arizona Monsoon fifteen years earlier.

“Daphne, I promise you won’t oversee any custody or paternity cases,” Lucio said as Rachel and the strangers slipped inside the house. “You’ll spend one morning a week listening to grumpy old men argue about water rights while Lemon sleeps at your feet. I’ll send one of the Graber kids over to water your gardens if our docket is bigger than expected. It will be an easy term.”

“And if I refuse?”

“Then you will face civil charges,” Lucio said. “Do you really want to go through with that?”

“When should I arrive?” Daphne sighed.

Next Chapter.

Photo by Jim Schoch.

Just starting out? Click here.

“But how do you know it will never happen?” asked the exasperated boy trudging behind Daphne. Somehow the water jugs she carried grew heavier with every twist in this improbable conversation.

“Because Lemon doesn’t have a uterus,” Daphne said, “and puppies can’t grow without one.” Lemon cocked his head at the mention of his name but was soon distracted by the myriad of new scents on the water trail. Had it really only been eight years since her sons were this age? Daphne didn’t mind helping out a neighbour, but she’d forgotten how many questions a six-year-old could dream up in the span of a few hours.

“Oh, then where did Lemon come from? You don’t have any girl dogs.”

“He was a gift from Mr. MacArthur. He once traded with someone who had too many puppies.” She never would have imagined that a half-starved, flea-infested puppy would grow up to be her most treasured companion.

“Why did you name him Lemon? What’s a lemon?”

“Lemons are a type of fruit that people used to grow,” Daphne said as she lowered the jugs to the ground paused to catch her breath. “My grandfather made a kind of cold tea with them when I first moved here to make me feel at home.” He’d squeezed all of the juice out of them, added three rations of water, and most peculiarly stirred in the last few spoonfuls of his coveted stash of white sugar. Daphne thought it tasted as sour and sweet as the first happy day after a long period of grief. The boy frowned and opened his mouth as if he was about to say something.

“What would you like for dinner, Felix?” she asked. “Pancakes or vegetable soup?” Given the circumstances Daphne didn’t think it was good idea to mention how her mother had died or that she’d been just a little older than him when it happened. She rarely thought about what her life would have been like had her mother survived. The memory was too old and well-healed to cause her much pain now, but there was a small piece of her heart that would give anything for her sons to have met their grandmother.

“Soup,” he said.

MacArthur was the last person Daphne expected to see as she walked into her front yard. His sun hat was pushed back from his head and his cheeks and nose were rosy. Surely a man his age would know better than to get a sunburn!

Two thin ewes lay in the dirt next to his feet. Makeshift rope leashes were tied around their necks, but Daphne doubted they had enough energy to run away even if they hadn’t been restrained. She wondered what he’d traded for the ewes, and who had been willing to part with such a valuable commodity during the hungry time of year.

“I have bad news,” he said with a weak smile as she approached him. “There is an odd epidemic in Prescott. It looks like the flu but it doesn’t seem to predictably spread from one person to the next the way most diseases do. They’ll be shutting down the trade routes soon until this blows over. Do you need anything?

“No, I have everything I need. You should go home to your family.” She’d lived too many years to fear what might never happen, and more importantly she didn’t want to frighten the boy. He was just old enough to understand why certain words put such fear into the hearts of adults, and she fervently hoped he wouldn’t figure out why this was one of them.

After lunch she took her two small companions with her while she weeded and irrigated the garden nearest to her home. Flashbacks of her sons’ childhood flooded her mind as Felix asked her where the sun went after dark, why the gods were so easily angered, and why he had to be born with two souls.

His final question snapped her out of her concentration. His eyes – one brown, one green – studied her with a level of concentration only found in six-year-olds who discover two new questions for every one that is answered. How could she answer his question without disparaging one of the most widely held religious beliefs of the Mingus Mountain area?

Most of her friends and neighbours believed that sometimes two souls are reincarnated into the same body. One could tell someone had more than one soul if they had an unusual birthmark or other physical feature.

This wasn’t necessarily a good thing. If the souls had accumulated good karma in their previous lives the two-souled person would bring luck and prosperity to his or her family and community. Their parent’s land would be fertile, and their younger siblings would grow up healthy and strong. Sometimes new siblings would even arrive in pairs, and twins were always lucky!

If both souls had not lived virtuous past lives, though, their condition could be considered a punishment from the gods. Perhaps the better side of their nature had been told to overpower the bent one, or maybe two souls who had made terrible decisions in their last few lifetimes were sent into the same body so that they could hurt fewer people in this one.

The only way to tell was to observe the child carefully for signs. A birthmark that faded over time was a good sign. One that grew darker or larger was not because it meant that the bent side of their nature was winning.

Privately Daphne held doubts about this theory. The markings were often bizarre, but she wasn’t sure how a small child could have any influence on whether their siblings lived or how much rain fell from the sky. Between never marrying into an established family and bearing two children under such distasteful circumstances her unorthodox life was already a source of gossip in the community. The younger generations were used to her, but Daphne didn’t want to give her peers anything else to dissect.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Some things are a mystery.”

Next chapter.

Photo by Jennifer Aitkens.

Just starting out? Click here.

A few uneventful weeks passed by. Daphne’s gardens thrived under the early spring sun and her careful irrigation. The harvest looked like it would be bountiful.

One afternoon she returned home for a rare indoor lunch. MacArthur walked up the path at the same moment she began heating the water up for tea. Lemon leapt up from the warm bed he’d just made in the sunshine just outside of the front door and barked for joy. Daphne wondered what all the commotion was and then noticed that MacArthur was carrying a wheel of cheese.

“No, that isn’t for you. You’ve already had your treat for the day.”” she said to the dog as her neighbour walked into her kitchen. Lemon sat on his haunches and watched the familiar man carefully as he set the cheese down on the table. Sometimes no slipped into yes when Daphne wasn’t paying attention.

“I thought you might be running low on supplies,” MacArthur said. Daphne’s lips erupted into a jagged smile. Was it April already? It seemed like just yesterday he’d brought the previous wheel of never-ending cheese. After fourteen years and a court order you’d think he’d come out and admit the real reason for his quarterly deliveries. It wasn’t as if any of it could be kept a secret in such a small community.

“I’m actually afraid I’ll have too much food this summer,” Daphne joked. “It’s amazing how much less I need to cook without a house full of starving teenagers.”

“When are your boys coming home? You must miss them.” MacArthur said, suddenly feeling a little shy around the woman he’d known for over fifteen years.

“Oh, another six weeks or so. They’d like to stay longer but their host family probably won’t have enough food to spare for the summer. There are a few projects around here that I’m saving for them to work on, though.” She didn’t know how to explain how a mother could simultaneously miss her children so fiercely her heart ached and feel so grateful for several months of blissful solitude and so she said nothing. Before Ephraim and Isaac entered this world she’d lived alone for nearly 20 years.  It took some adjustment on her part to grow used to the bustle of raising twins but how could one explain this to a man who hadn’t had a moment to himself for thirty years and preferred it that way? The conversation paused for a moment. “How are your wives?”

“Good. Rachel and Naomi are actually visiting our newest grandson at the moment. You’d think his mother would know what to do the second time around but somehow the grandmothers always have an excuse to visit. We were hoping you and the kids would join us for dinner when they come home, though.”

“Yes,” Daphne said after a moment of hesitation. “I think they might like that. Let us know what night you were thinking once they’re home for the summer.”

Hello!” Neveah’s voice boomed through the canyon as she walked up the steep hill to Daphne’s house.  She raised her left eyebrow at MacArthur as she walked into the suddenly too-small kitchen.

“I should be going,” MacArthur said abruptly. “Let me know if you need anything else.” He left with  a quick nod.

“Delivery time already?” Neveah noted with a sour, gritty taste developing in her mouth. “And he came alone?” Anyone who hadn’t known her for as many years as Daphne had might have assumed these were questions. They weren’t.

“Yes, he brought cheese,” Daphne said neutrally. “Would you like some?”

“Well, if you don’t mind…”Neveah’s voice trailed off as she removed a small, hopefully clean knife from her cloak and cut a large serving out of the wheel.

“I have cornbread and tea as well if you haven’t eaten yet?” Anyone who knew Daphne wouldn’t mistake this as a question either. So long as she had food in her larder and a pot of herbal tea brewing on the stove no one walked away from her table with an empty stomach. While Daphne turned her back on her old friend Neveah quietly slid the first thin slice of cheese under the table to Lemon. His tail thumped against the floor in gratitude as he licked his chops.

“Lemon, it isn’t polite to beg,” Daphne warned as she sliced the bread and poured two cups of tea.  Neveah smiled, put her finger over her lips and slipped the dog another morsel.

“Neveah, don’t encourage him,” Daphne said with a sly smile as she brought the food to the table. “He has plenty of food.” Neveah pretended to pout for a moment before digging into the latest community news in-between bites.

“….but no one knows what was in those little glass bottles in the traveller’s bag,” Neveah grumbled as she finished her lunch. “And none of them were still intact. It’s probably just as well. You know how expensive glass is these days. The courts would have been tied up for a month figuring out who has the biggest claim on them.”

“Did they find anything else in his bag?”

“Wet clothes and a broken gun. Nothing of value and no clues about his identity.” Miraculously Neveah grew quiet for a moment before asking her next question. “Daphne…how much food do you have for the summer?

“Take the cheese,” Daphne insisted. “I don’t need it. What else is running low?”

“If you insist,” Nevaeh said. “But actually I was wondering if you’d like a little visitor for a little while. Delphine has hopes for next month.”

Daphne had of course noticed Delphine’s condition but was too polite to mention it directly. Virtually every home in the Mingus Mountains had been disappointed at least once. It was better to wait and see what the gods had in store before assuming there would be any joy to find in the coming weeks.

“I’d prefer to look after the boy,” Daphne said. At six he would be a little more independent than his three year old sister and her own sons weren’t quite so old yet that they’d forgotten how to roughhouse if he ended up needing to stay a little longer than expected.

“It’s settled then,” Nevaeh said with a smile. Her food stores actually were growing sparse and feeding two grandchildren for days, or possibly weeks if there were complications, wasn’t easy at this time of year. She’d secretly been hoping to keep her granddaughter to herself, though, and was happy Daphne was willing to help.

Next chapter.