Shaman Story Chapter X – Hide-and-Seek

“Where am I, Gio? Come find me!”

He starts with things easy, asks me questions to make me explore. “Am I in the garden?”

“I don’t know, Buppa.”

“Can you feel me in the garden?”

The garden is tough. He puts so much of his energy into his roses, his vegetables, his Brothers the Bees.

“You’ve been in the garden, Buppa. I can tell you’ve been there.”

I feel a kiss in the air around my head. “Oh, come on, Gio. You and I worked in the garden yesterday. Am I there now?”

The air tickles my feet. I laugh, realizing. “No! But your some place we walk to.”

“Oh, you’re so smart, Gio. Where am I now that is someplace we walk? Feel where I am. I left a trail. You can follow.”

“Like Hansel and Gretel, Buppa!”

“Yes, like Hansel and Gretel but I won’t put you in my oven when you find me.”

I start crying.

“What is it, Gio? What’s wrong?”

“What if I can’t find you, Buppa? What if I get lost?”


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Shaman Story Chapter X – The Childhood Door

[I mentioned in Shaman Story Chapter 5 – Lessons that chapter numbering would get wonky as Shaman Story is a work in progress.
At this point, I’m adding chapters to the beginning to foreshadow events happening in later chapters, this one being a case in point.
I’ve learned to live with such things. Hope you do, too.]

Read Shaman Story Chapter 7 – Sensing.


Shaman Story Chapter X – The Childhood Door

 

Buppa stops, turns, let’s me see him in another place. Somewhere beyond the moon, under the sea, through his garden, into the earth.

A big wooden door, made from trees and branches all woven together, leaves grow out of limbs making eaves and lintels. There’s a little window but it’s too high for me to see in. A light flickers through the glass. A candle.

“What’s that, Buppa?”

“It’s a door, a very special door. But only for you, Gio, not for anybody else.”

“It’s my door?”

“Yes, but only if you want to learn more. If you want to learn more you have to go in.”

The door has no handle. I step closer, onto a mat of tightly woven hay and flax.

The mat opens eyes. It lifts and spins like it’s caught in a whirlwind. It pushes me back, grows four legs, a spiky tail and a giant head. The woven flax and hay become golden fur. It stops spinning and lands on its feet, larger than me, larger than Buppa, larger than the door.

It looks down at me. “Are you afraid, Gio?”

“Yes.”

“Good answer, truthful answer. Do you want to go in?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

I don’t know what’s expected. “To learn more?”

The creature smiles. It has many, many teeth, like needles. It drools. Its drool splashes and steams like acid on ground that isn’t there. “Are you asking or telling?”

I want my Buppa. He’s not here. He’s always with me. Where’s my Buppa?

“Anything else?”


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The Lonely Oak’s in Harvey Duckman Presents Volume 5!

Once again, I am honored.

The glorious, wise, and beautiful folks at Sixth Elem6ent, home of Harvey Duckman Presents and many awesome, independent books, published The Lonely Oak in Harvey Duckman Presents Volume 5.

 
(and they want more of my work!)

Whoa!

Other fine authors are in HDP5 as well. (you should read them all)

(have to see if i can get a few more links in that opening paragraph…)

Why It Works for Me – Cherylynn Dyess’s “The Soul Maker”

This is the eleventh in a series I’m doing wherein I discuss why a particular piece of writing works for me, aka, this piece of writing taught me something about writing, encouraged me to be a better writer, engaged me, captivated me, educated me, et cetera.

As I’ve written elsewhere, it’s one thing to know something is good, it’s a better thing (in my opinion) to know why it’s good and then be able to copy what’s good about it, to learn from it so you can be as good and (hopefully) better.

This time out, Cherylynn Dyess’s “The Soul Maker” appearing in Harvey Duckman Presents Volume III.

 

 

Shaman Story Chapter 7 – Sensing

Read Shaman Story Chapter 6 – Friends.


Shaman Story Chapter 7 – Sensing

 
Ascolta il gattina, Gio. Riesci a sentirlo camminare?” Listen to the kitty, Gio. Can you hear it walking?

A favorite game Grandpa plays with me. I close my eyes, pay attention to my ears. I clap my hands. “Yes, Buppa! I can hear it walking.”

Dove sta camminando, Gio?” Where is it walking?

I listen, my eyes shut tight. I cock my head, right ear up, left ear up, right ear up. “On Mrs. Gianelli’s fence. The one on the Caputo’s side.”

Grandpa smiles and kisses my head.

“Now look, Gio. Where is Grandma?”

It is hard not to hear. I cover my ears with my hands, open my eyes wide. “She’s talking with Piantedosi the baker, Buppa. She says — ”

“No listening. What’s she doing?”

“She’s getting bread for dinner.”

“Anything else?”

Grandma looks in the dessert cases. She points to ricciarelli, struffoli, and cannoli.

Grandpa licks his lips and pats his belly. “Yumm.”

***

David sits across from me. It is his day, his weekend. He’s travelled far for his training. Not far enough but he doesn’t know that yet.

I look up and to the right, away from him, My eyes focus and I smile. “Oh, Shannon’s talking with one of our neighbors. Our dogs are playing in the park.”

David watches me. His eyes flick to where I’m looking. There’s nothing there. “What are you looking at?”

I point where I’m looking. “Shannon and Debbie, Cowan and Boxer. They’re in the park. Cowan and Boxer are playing. Shannon and Debbie are sitting at the picnic table under the roof shelter.”

***

“Use your hands to taste, Gio. Don’t touch with your hands first. Send your hands. Make sure it’s safe.”

Grandpa teaches me to detect poisons, food turned bad, mushrooms, when milk will sour.

“Smell from here. Don’t go there. Not yet.”

“Okay, Buppa.”

“Walk with me in the forest. Tell me what we can eat.”

We never leave my room. I hear the forest floor, leaves and pine needles, long grasses pushed over as we walk. The evergreens greet me with the heavy scent of pine. The oaks roll some acorns in our path. A maple sends a little helicopter seed spiralling beside me.

Grandpa puts his hand on my shoulder. On my bed I see him pointing. “Do you see that, Gio?”

On a birch tree, at face level and clinging. A huge creature, cousin to Spider, bigger than any spider I’ve ever seen, and not familiar to me. Eight legs, not a spider, and blind.

“Walk slowly, Gio. It is telling us something. This is its land.”

Each step brings us closer. The wind brings scents of fox and deer. Crows fly overhead. Raven lands on an elm branch and squawks at Grandpa, “Be careful. Gio doesn’t know.”

Grandpa nods. “Thank you. Yes. I’m teaching him now.”

Crows caw at us. Raven hops from branch to branch, always over us, always a little ahead.

The creature grows smaller as we approach. Smaller and smaller.

Raven squawks, “Careful, Gio.”

We stand beside the birch. The creature is so small. I reach for it and Grandpa pulls my hand back.

“Safe passage for me and mine, Friend Tick?”

I hear a voice of “S”s. “Yesss. Sssafe passsage.”

“This is Tick’s land, Gio. Always ask before you go. And if Tick says “No,” then stay away.”

“Yes, Buppa.”

“Remember the smells, the sounds, the feels. Remember what you see, if it’s safe, remember the tastes.”

“Yes, Buppa.”

He rubs my head. “Let’s get home before Grandma knows we’re gone.”

I open my eyes. I’m on my bed. Grandpa is sitting next to me, looking at me, smiling.


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