Glad you could join us for the next resplendent episode of Elliot’s Adventures. If you’re new here, you can catch up by returning to the beginning, and reading really fast…
Side by side, Cassandra and Elliot followed the lowering sun. They laughed their way through a grassy meadow, slipping over broad ribbons of green, sharing stories of childhoods so vastly different Elliot knew they created an entirely new world by weaving their tales together. The future spread before them, a blank tapestry awaiting their design.
He was happy. Every breath was blissful proof that love was more than an ideal to dream of; it was as real as life itself, and he deserved Cassandra’s gift of eternal love just as surely as it was his destiny to bestow his unending love upon her.
Nothing would ever part them.
“Excuse me, my young friends,” a silky voice called to them from the lengthening shadows. “Might a weary Traveler trouble you for a little assistance along the Road?”
Elliot stopped just ahead of Cassandra, instinctively shielding her from the stranger who stepped into the late afternoon’s golden light.
He was tall and gangly, almost comical to see. His wedgy head sat upon a neck too impossibly delicate to hold it up, and his long, raspy arms bent at sharp and curious angles as he nibbled on his own fingertips. His bulbous eyes held hypnotic fascination.
Extracting his fingertips from his mouth to steeple them before his chest, he smiled in a V-shaped grin revealing two rows of tiny serrated teeth. “Greetings,” he said, “I am Reverend Robert. Might I have a moment of your time?”
Although the air wrapped them in warmth, a chill shivered through Elliot.
To be continued…
Today’s twofer from April 23, 2016:
“I’ve had a few.” Old Blue Eyes
I do not regret eating dirt.
It was early Spring in Racine, Wisconsin. I had just turned two.
An aside: I don’t blame you if you have a hard time believing that. All I can tell you is this: If you have strong emotional reactions to things you did as a small child and an amygdala as healthy as mine apparently is, those memories are as close to the surface as your inner child. Forever. More recent events? Like the last movie you saw or what you had for breakfast this morning? Not so much. The human brain is a mystery. Some people say they remember being born. Huh. I might be with you on that one, but who knows for sure?
Anyway, I really had just turned two. Mom had dug up a little garden plot against the back of the house next to the back door stairs. The sun was shining and reflecting off all the little sparkly bits in the soil. Minerals, I suppose, not diamonds or buried treasure like I was hoping. The dirt was dark and rich, loose and ready for seeds.
It was just so pretty.
I wondered what it tasted like, so I picked up a grubby little handful and put it in my two-year-old mouth to eat it.
Mom always said:
“Never spit your food out.” Mom on table manners
I suppose I could have rationalized that dirt wasn’t really food, so it would be okay to spit it out, but I had put it in my mouth to eat it, so technically, in my two-year-old brain, it was food.
I didn’t spit it out. I chewed it up and swallowed it.
I can still taste it. (No, not because I haven’t brushed my teeth in the intervening [mumble-mumble] years. I have. Tens of thousands of times. It’s a sense memory, Silly.) Dirt is tangy and metallic. It’s gritty, crunchy and brown. It tastes like… dirt. But not mold or dust or filth. It tastes just like you would expect clean dirt to taste.
Actually, Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans did a great job on the dirt flavored bean; the texture is wrong, but the flavor is perfect.
I was probably lucky I didn’t end up with pin worms or something worse. Or maybe I did, and I just don’t remember that part. The brain is mysterious. But eating dirt didn’t kill me. Maybe it even boosted my immune system; I really am unusually healthy.
Still, I do remember thinking, as I licked my teeth and brushed the fine stuff off my lips:
“Well, I never have to do that again.” Two-year-old me
And I haven’t.
Have you ever done anything you thought you might regret and then didn’t?
#AtoZChallenge A-to-Z Fictioneers: Interested in original fiction? Here’s a list of writers who are writing stories for the 2017 A to Z Challenge. The author’s link will take you to their “A” post. If you know of any other story writers I can share, please drop the link in the comments!
- Aditi’s Indian myths from a female POV at Aditi’s Pen
- Andrea’s fantasy novel, “The Impatiens Chronicles”, as writing instruction at Andrea Lundgren
- Arpan’s horror stories at Tales of Unusual Strangeness
- Atherton’s Victorian murder mystery, “Stranded!”, at Atherton’s Magic Vapour
- Debs’s song-inspired fiction at Bunny and the Bloke
- Diane’s 100-word tales at LadiesWhoLunchReviews,etc
- Dipanwita’s 100-word stories at Cocktails Mocktails and Life
- Iain’s alphabet puzzle-inspired murder mystery serial at Iain Kelly Writing
- Jo’s upbeat emotion stories at Jo Hawk the Writer
- Joe’s excerpts from his upcoming post-Civil War historical fiction, “Steel Horse Saviors”, at Fiction Playground
- John’s flash fiction crime stories with a twist at John Davis Frain
- Keith’s everyday life in fictional Amble Bay at Keith’s Ramblings
- Lenni’s speculative fiction, “What Are They” at J Lenni Dorner
- Marquessa’s short stories spun from her larger work, “Living to Die” at Simply Marquessa
- Natalie’s “Secret Diary of a Serial Killer” at Natalie Westgate
- Raven’s 100-word flash fiction at everywhere and nowhere
- Shailaja’s 100-word oxymoronic stories at The Moving Quill
- Shilpa’s 55-word crime stories at A Rose Is A Rose Is A Rose!
- Shweta’s Tiny Tales at My Random Ramblings
- Sorchia’s Gothic fantasy, “A Cold Spring” at Sorchia’s Universe
- S.T. Ranscht’s fantasy/adventure serial, “Elliot’s Adventures”at Space, Time, and Raspberries
Vanessa’s build-a-30-word-story at Vanessence