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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Fairy Tales & Fantasy
- Subject: Comedy / Humor
- Published: 07/03/2021
Seven days travel on a gentle incline upwind of The Emerald City lies the village of Pike’s Rock. Its citizens are magic users, ‘tho often unimaginative and poorly skilled. They are not, by any stretch, a sociable people. Although they are capable of deep love, marriage and children are not a priority, thus the population has remained stable throughout the centuries.
On a rocky upper slope sits a small, rambling cottage, inhabited by Anahesa and her aunt. On one side is a jumbled hillside containing the village cemetery. On another is a sheer cliff with a narrow river running along its base.
Like all fourteen-year-old girls, Anahesa, in her own quiet way, had become a sarcastic, snarky pain in the rear. Since, as has been mentioned, the folks of Pike’s Rock are notably unsocial, this affected only her aunt.
One morning, not so long ago, Anahesa’s aunt found her sitting moodily on a bench, staring vacantly over the cemetery on the hillside below. She gripped Anahesa’s hair and pulled, pointing the girl’s face upward toward her own.
“What in the world is going on with you, child? I haven’t gotten ten words out of you in the last week!”
“Nothing,” mumbled Anahesa, scowling. “I’m fine.”
“Poohey! I know what ‘fine’ looks like and you’re not it. Now spill it! What’s your problem?”
Anahesa shook her head, freeing her hair. Expelling a long sigh, she shrugged. “I’m lonely, Aunty. There aren’t many kids my age in the village and they’re all morons or worse. I want a friend, preferably a boy, and the boys aren’t smart enough to be called morons.”
Her aunt laughed knowingly. “Of course, girl. That’s what you get with boys.” She put a hand on Anahesa’s shoulder. “I can’t make boys smarter, but maybe I can use magic to create a friend for you.” She wrinkled her already wrinkled face thoughtfully. “I have a ton of magic books. One of them must have a spell that’ll help.” She patted Anahesa’s head. “I know you need a friend.” She gazed thoughtfully down the hill. “Don’t worry, I’ll dig one up.”
Seeing her aunt looking toward the cemetery, Anahesa jumped to her feet. “Oh no, Aunty! Don’t dig one up!”
Her aunt smiled indulgently. “Certainly not, child. Anyone can perform that spell, but the aftereffects are decidedly unpleasant, not to mention the smell.” She turned toward the cottage. “Give me some time. And while you’re waiting, go gather some tulip tree pollen. About half an ounce will do.”
For the next two days, the old woman searched through her incredible collection of books, finding nothing of use. On the third day, she carried one enormous book to her work table and began making notes. For the next week, Anahesa was sent on seemingly endless errands, accumulating a pile of unlikely items, either obtained from local magic users or found in nature. Returning from an outing to obtain dried squirrel ears, her aunt waved her over.
“I’m ready to start on your friend. You should watch. This might be the most interesting spell I’ve cast in decades.”
For four days, Anahesa and her aunt slaved from sunup to sundown, mixing, heating, cooling, binding and chanting over the growing thing on the table. The girl, not being so accustomed to the appalling odors being produced as her aunt frequently needed to run gagging outside, desperate for fresh air. Due to the fact that the thing needed to mimic a live human, all its ingredients were, obviously, made up of organic materials. No metal or ceramic could be included and that left wood and wood byproducts, moss and various bits and pieces of suitable animals. Eventually the thing was done. It looked more-or-less like a boy if you were fifty feet away; up close, the resemblance ended. It wasn’t terribly attractive, unless you find beauty in a pile of compost.
“Now Anahesa,” said Anahesa’s aunt, “it’s time for the final step.” She inserted a large-diameter straw into the thing’s nose. “Blow into that. It needs a strong breath and you get just one chance. If you do it right, you’ll get a boyfriend. If not, then I don’t know what we’ll get, but it won’t be good.”
Anahesa took a deep breath and blew with all her might. The thing’s chest rose and it coughed, expelling a cloud of dust and fumes that reminded Anahesa of a particularly rancid fart. Its eyes opened and it struggled to sit up. It blinked and stared at Anahesa. “Nafurahi kukuona,” it said in a reedy voice.
Anahesa’s aunt’s face twisted as she searched her memories of the Old Language. “Unasema kiingereza?” she asked.
The thing grinned grotesquely. “Of course. I don’t know where that language came from.” It frowned. “In fact, I don’t know anything. Where are we? What’s my name?”
Anahesa looked puzzled. “I hadn’t thought about a name. What do you think, Aunty?”
“We’ll call him Cizin. It’s a name I’ve always admired.”
Anahesa clapped. “I like it!” She turned to the thing. “Your name is Cizin. I’m Anahesa and this is my aunt.” She helped Cizin down from the table. “You’re here to be my friend.” Anahesa hugged her aunt. “Thank you, Aunty. He’s wonderful!”
”Well, he’s alive and intelligent enough, I guess. You two get to know each other. I’ll clean up here.”
Anahesa spent the following days with Cizin, answering his questions and teaching him about their world. A strange bond grew between them and Anahesa’s loneliness faded. Her eyes danced with happiness as she hummed a joyful tune.
In many ways, Cizin was quick to learn, but he demonstrated little of what Anahesa considered “common sense”. Cizin had no concept of danger and seemingly no sense of pain. He nearly set himself on fire several times, trying to satisfy his curiosity. Anahesa’s aunt was engaged in a new project and didn’t appreciate being interrupted to repair Cizin’s self-inflicted injuries.
Twelve days after Cizin’s creation, Anahesa’s aunt found the two in a rock-throwing contest, seeing who could hit a flat rock shelf on the other side of the river below the cliff. “Anahesa,” she called, “Watch this!” With a wave of her hand, the old witch rose from the ground and floated. “And if I use both hands ….” She suited action to word and sailed above the tops of nearby trees.
“Aunty, that’s amazing! Can you teach me to do that?”
“Yes, of course.” She dropped lightly to the ground next to Anahesa. “Move your hands like this, a little more separation, keep your knuckles up, yes, that’s it!” Anahesa floated, experimenting with hand speed and position, delighted with her new skill.
Cizin watched closely. “Can I try?” he asked.
Anahesa’s aunt shook her head. “It won’t work for you. You’re not really human, after all.”
Cizin snorted. “Nonsense! I saw what you did and I can do it just as well.” He moved to the edge of the cliff, waved his hands in the correct manner and stepped off the edge. His woody, strangled cry was cut short by the sound of impact.
Later, Anahesa and her aunt stood over what remained of Cizin. “I’m sorry, Anahesa. I know you loved him. We can make another, but I don’t know if the result will be any better.”
Anahesa clung to her aunt, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Oh Aunty,” she sobbed. “Love is a many splintered thing.”
John Lisbeth
February 2021
Notes on the story:
Cizin ("The Flatulent One") was an Aztec god. Don’t ask how I know.
When the thing awoke, it said, “Glad to meet you” in Swahili. Anahesa’s aunt asked if it spoke English.
I speak slightly more Swahili than I do Finnish and that ain’t much.
Anahesa's Boyfriend(John Lisbeth)
Seven days travel on a gentle incline upwind of The Emerald City lies the village of Pike’s Rock. Its citizens are magic users, ‘tho often unimaginative and poorly skilled. They are not, by any stretch, a sociable people. Although they are capable of deep love, marriage and children are not a priority, thus the population has remained stable throughout the centuries.
On a rocky upper slope sits a small, rambling cottage, inhabited by Anahesa and her aunt. On one side is a jumbled hillside containing the village cemetery. On another is a sheer cliff with a narrow river running along its base.
Like all fourteen-year-old girls, Anahesa, in her own quiet way, had become a sarcastic, snarky pain in the rear. Since, as has been mentioned, the folks of Pike’s Rock are notably unsocial, this affected only her aunt.
One morning, not so long ago, Anahesa’s aunt found her sitting moodily on a bench, staring vacantly over the cemetery on the hillside below. She gripped Anahesa’s hair and pulled, pointing the girl’s face upward toward her own.
“What in the world is going on with you, child? I haven’t gotten ten words out of you in the last week!”
“Nothing,” mumbled Anahesa, scowling. “I’m fine.”
“Poohey! I know what ‘fine’ looks like and you’re not it. Now spill it! What’s your problem?”
Anahesa shook her head, freeing her hair. Expelling a long sigh, she shrugged. “I’m lonely, Aunty. There aren’t many kids my age in the village and they’re all morons or worse. I want a friend, preferably a boy, and the boys aren’t smart enough to be called morons.”
Her aunt laughed knowingly. “Of course, girl. That’s what you get with boys.” She put a hand on Anahesa’s shoulder. “I can’t make boys smarter, but maybe I can use magic to create a friend for you.” She wrinkled her already wrinkled face thoughtfully. “I have a ton of magic books. One of them must have a spell that’ll help.” She patted Anahesa’s head. “I know you need a friend.” She gazed thoughtfully down the hill. “Don’t worry, I’ll dig one up.”
Seeing her aunt looking toward the cemetery, Anahesa jumped to her feet. “Oh no, Aunty! Don’t dig one up!”
Her aunt smiled indulgently. “Certainly not, child. Anyone can perform that spell, but the aftereffects are decidedly unpleasant, not to mention the smell.” She turned toward the cottage. “Give me some time. And while you’re waiting, go gather some tulip tree pollen. About half an ounce will do.”
For the next two days, the old woman searched through her incredible collection of books, finding nothing of use. On the third day, she carried one enormous book to her work table and began making notes. For the next week, Anahesa was sent on seemingly endless errands, accumulating a pile of unlikely items, either obtained from local magic users or found in nature. Returning from an outing to obtain dried squirrel ears, her aunt waved her over.
“I’m ready to start on your friend. You should watch. This might be the most interesting spell I’ve cast in decades.”
For four days, Anahesa and her aunt slaved from sunup to sundown, mixing, heating, cooling, binding and chanting over the growing thing on the table. The girl, not being so accustomed to the appalling odors being produced as her aunt frequently needed to run gagging outside, desperate for fresh air. Due to the fact that the thing needed to mimic a live human, all its ingredients were, obviously, made up of organic materials. No metal or ceramic could be included and that left wood and wood byproducts, moss and various bits and pieces of suitable animals. Eventually the thing was done. It looked more-or-less like a boy if you were fifty feet away; up close, the resemblance ended. It wasn’t terribly attractive, unless you find beauty in a pile of compost.
“Now Anahesa,” said Anahesa’s aunt, “it’s time for the final step.” She inserted a large-diameter straw into the thing’s nose. “Blow into that. It needs a strong breath and you get just one chance. If you do it right, you’ll get a boyfriend. If not, then I don’t know what we’ll get, but it won’t be good.”
Anahesa took a deep breath and blew with all her might. The thing’s chest rose and it coughed, expelling a cloud of dust and fumes that reminded Anahesa of a particularly rancid fart. Its eyes opened and it struggled to sit up. It blinked and stared at Anahesa. “Nafurahi kukuona,” it said in a reedy voice.
Anahesa’s aunt’s face twisted as she searched her memories of the Old Language. “Unasema kiingereza?” she asked.
The thing grinned grotesquely. “Of course. I don’t know where that language came from.” It frowned. “In fact, I don’t know anything. Where are we? What’s my name?”
Anahesa looked puzzled. “I hadn’t thought about a name. What do you think, Aunty?”
“We’ll call him Cizin. It’s a name I’ve always admired.”
Anahesa clapped. “I like it!” She turned to the thing. “Your name is Cizin. I’m Anahesa and this is my aunt.” She helped Cizin down from the table. “You’re here to be my friend.” Anahesa hugged her aunt. “Thank you, Aunty. He’s wonderful!”
”Well, he’s alive and intelligent enough, I guess. You two get to know each other. I’ll clean up here.”
Anahesa spent the following days with Cizin, answering his questions and teaching him about their world. A strange bond grew between them and Anahesa’s loneliness faded. Her eyes danced with happiness as she hummed a joyful tune.
In many ways, Cizin was quick to learn, but he demonstrated little of what Anahesa considered “common sense”. Cizin had no concept of danger and seemingly no sense of pain. He nearly set himself on fire several times, trying to satisfy his curiosity. Anahesa’s aunt was engaged in a new project and didn’t appreciate being interrupted to repair Cizin’s self-inflicted injuries.
Twelve days after Cizin’s creation, Anahesa’s aunt found the two in a rock-throwing contest, seeing who could hit a flat rock shelf on the other side of the river below the cliff. “Anahesa,” she called, “Watch this!” With a wave of her hand, the old witch rose from the ground and floated. “And if I use both hands ….” She suited action to word and sailed above the tops of nearby trees.
“Aunty, that’s amazing! Can you teach me to do that?”
“Yes, of course.” She dropped lightly to the ground next to Anahesa. “Move your hands like this, a little more separation, keep your knuckles up, yes, that’s it!” Anahesa floated, experimenting with hand speed and position, delighted with her new skill.
Cizin watched closely. “Can I try?” he asked.
Anahesa’s aunt shook her head. “It won’t work for you. You’re not really human, after all.”
Cizin snorted. “Nonsense! I saw what you did and I can do it just as well.” He moved to the edge of the cliff, waved his hands in the correct manner and stepped off the edge. His woody, strangled cry was cut short by the sound of impact.
Later, Anahesa and her aunt stood over what remained of Cizin. “I’m sorry, Anahesa. I know you loved him. We can make another, but I don’t know if the result will be any better.”
Anahesa clung to her aunt, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Oh Aunty,” she sobbed. “Love is a many splintered thing.”
John Lisbeth
February 2021
Notes on the story:
Cizin ("The Flatulent One") was an Aztec god. Don’t ask how I know.
When the thing awoke, it said, “Glad to meet you” in Swahili. Anahesa’s aunt asked if it spoke English.
I speak slightly more Swahili than I do Finnish and that ain’t much.
Gail Moore
07/13/2021Fantastic, I love your imagination and the pic you have used. If only we could whip up company for some folk that are so lonely
I used this pic in a gardening site I have as the front cover :-)
Help Us Understand What's Happening
John Lisbeth
07/13/2021Thanks for the kind words.
It took me a year and a half to come up with a story that would let me use that last line.
John
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
John Lisbeth
07/04/2021My wife woke me up one morning because I was laughing in my sleep. That last line came to me in a dream.
I sat on that line for a year and a half before I came up with a way to use it in a story. It's a corruption of the title of a 1955 movie, "Love Is a Many Splendored Thing".
That connection will be lost on the young, but the older folks out there will get it.
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