Flowers and Fire

It was alive. The long dirt roads, the tidy brick buildings, the fragile tented booths, the wooden carts. Those where merely its bones its body. The true life the blood was in the montage of fruits and vegetables, the squawking hens, the barking dogs chasing running children, the old women promising the hearts and heavens stars to those who bought their perfumes and shining trinkets, men haggling amongst themselves and some scolding swift handed urchins who proved slightly less swift them expected. This was a living town, this was market day. The only average day she could wander the intersecting passageways of the city streets. To stare in wonder at the spectacle of city life. Home was far from the risks and dangers of this life. Secluded and nestled in amongst the old trees, in a moss roofed cabin in the forest outside the city walls. It was quiet and peaceful there but so is being dead. The old corpse of a cabin was simply rotten in comparison to this vibrant vixen of a place. But it was also salt in the wound visiting here, knowing she would have to leave, and knowing she would eventually want to leave. There was no smiling street merchant to great her at his booth, and no laughing children begging her to play their silly games. At best there was obscurity, at worst much worse. Muffled whispers, hateful calling, and altercations if she overstayed her welcome. This was not her home and she was always a stranger in a strange land. But it was fun to pretend even if it was only for a short time.

The sun seemed stalled in the center of the sky. Flies buzzed lazily around the fruit in the old wooden cart. The tail on the bay mule attached swatted at them absent mindedly. Cole was bored and getting frustrated. Uncle Chuck had sent him and his younger cousin Charlie to the market to unload the excess fruit from their farm, and unfortunately no one was interested except the flies. For days he’d been begging grandpa to let him go to town on market day. When he finally agreed he thought the old diehard had finally caved. But the crafty old coot had somehow managed to stop the barrage of begging, get his grandson to do some work, and teach him the value of patience. It was truly infuriating, here he was in town and bored out of his mind, watching an ass, and feeling rather the same. A pack of kids ran by startling the mule, Cole was about to shout at them to watch it when he came up with a better idea. Slyly pocketing a small piece of fruit. He shouted “Did you see that Charlie, that little brat just stole a piece of your dad’s fruit. Son of a bitch snagged it and took off, you watch the cart cousin, I’ll catch that little SOB and teach him what’s for.” He jumped to his feet. Charlie stared bewilderedly at him. Taking no time to let his plan be unraveled he took off in the same direction as the kids shouting back, “Don’t worry cuz, just don’t leave without me k?” Looking back at the un-amused face of his cousin he knew he had been figured out but also knew he’d gotten away with it. Wandering the winding back corridors of the city was a welcome change of pace. The make believe fruit thieves could be heard happily playing ahead. Until a sudden thud followed by shrill wailing rang out. Tiny sobbing echoed of the brick walls of the alley. “Dumb kid must a fell down,” Coal muttered. Suddenly it stopped instantly. He picked up his pace and came around the corner stopping as quickly as the crying had. A little boy sat on the ground holding his knee, and crouched down next to him was a young woman. In her outstretched palm she held some shimmering object offering it to the child as she smiled gently down at him. Her long dark hair contrasted sharply against porcelain skin. As her soft brown eyes and perfect pink lips smiled kindly down at the child. The boy seemed entranced by the offering, as he quickly snatched it from her hand forgetting his scraped knee. There was nothing unusual about this moment of kindness but he somehow felt he was interrupting an intimate moment. Perhaps being surrounded by dim light in a dirty alley just made her appear so beautiful. Or maybe it was her white cloak. But the whole scene seemed angelic. He tried to slink back around the corner but tripped. The woman looked at him, her smile faded, looking down she pulled up her hood and ran. He’d half expected her to sprout wings and fly off. It was actually a relief that she hadn’t. Cole walked up to the little boy crouching down he saw the object was a small metal spinning top. He looked down the alley but saw no trace of the strange woman. “Hey kid who was the lady who gave you the top,” He asked.

The little boy smiled at him and said, “A nice lady.”

Cole laughed, “I guess she was, wasn’t she.”

In a dreamy haze he wandered around the city. His tired eyes scanned the crowds, but they failed to spot the white lady his subconscious was seeking. Before long the sun had nearly settled on the horizon so his well stretched legs returned to the fruit cart. The cart was empty and his cousin looked annoyed. “I almost left without you Cole. I sold all the fruit hours ago, we could have been home before dark you know?” Charlie vented. Sighing he asked, “Did the fruit bandit get what he had coming?” Drawing a total blank he looked at Charlie then smiled. He pulled the pocketed fruit from earlier out and threw it to his cousin. “Of course, I beat him silly, I’m a man of my word after all.” They both laughed as they got in the wagon and headed home.

The snug old farm house of their grandparents sat cheerily on the hill. A few lights flickered warmly in the windows. Living here was a recent development. This house was not unfamiliar he’d visited every winter of his childhood, but it had always been a vacation not home. His parents’ unexpected death had changed a lot of things in his life. They’d been killed my invading forces from another kingdom. Killed because of their faith. They failed to denounce their faith and worship of the Holy Goddess. This singular belief was grounds for execution. They had died for it, for something that might not even exist. They choose to lose their lives rather then lose their faith. By not abandoning their belief of the Goddess they choose to abandon him. With tears in his eyes and hate in his heart he had denounced all aspects of the Holy Goddess, and he’d meant ever word. Because if there really was a Goddess she’d failed to protect anyone that praised her that day. So the only rational thing to believe is that there is no Goddess. If she was real there was certainly no reason to praise her. He honestly loved his grandparents but they were devote believers. And the death of his parents had somehow made them worship harder. It seemed like insanity. It didn’t set well that such devote worshippers of the Holy Goddess housed the only fallen worshipper in the area. His refusal to pray before meals or go with them to worship was a constant battle in their house. The mention of the Holy Goddess didn’t bring much warmth or feelings of love to their hearts these days.

The old door brought floods of now painful memories. How many times had he come through this door. Rushed into his grandmothers welcoming arms. Listened to his mother’s muffled voice greet her parents through that tight embrace. Felt pride in his father and grandfathers vigorous hand shake. Those were the last times. They were gone, he would never walk through this door with them behind him again. He pushed open the door, even as a child it had never felt this heavy. His grandmother was banging pots and pans around in the kitchen. Her trade mark baking sounds. There was probably dinner saved for him somewhere in there, but he didn’t feel much like eating. Slowly he climbed the creaking stairs, slipped into his room, shut the door and went to bed. Hoping for sweet dreams of the past, or nothingness over more nightmares he slowly slid into sleep. A sweet smell infiltrated his dreams stirring him from slumber. It was a sickening stink, it was the flakey pastries his grandmother made only on these days. The choosen breakfast delight of those who were heading to the Holy Goddess’s temple. It meant the whole house was headed to the temple for worship. A whole day affair as usual. Over sleeping meant he was unable to make himself scarce this time so he would be roped into ridding along. They could force him to go to town but they couldn’t force him to go into the temple. And he would defiantly not be going in. Milling about outside with the rest of the town would at least appease his grandfather. He would just sneak off somewhere when everyone entered temple. As expected everyone that was physically capable and some who actually weren’t were in attendance. It was annoying, all these people convincing themselves that someone cared, that someone was protecting them. They were wrong. A small cluster of people attracted his attention. He only recognized the bakery owner and a gossipy woman who was friends with his grandmother. The chattering woman was doing most of the talking it seemed. She ranted angrily, “I really need the Holy Goddess to purify me today, I’ve had so much negativity around me lately. Nothing but bad luck for days. I don’t know how you all feel but I’d swear its that girls fault. You know she’s been in town far too much for my liking lately. You know who I mean. She lives all alone in the woods I hear. Heavens! Who knows why? People have been saying she’s a witch now that comes into town to curse people! Wearing that silly white thing. Witchcraft, that’s how she stays young and beautiful. I’m not saying its true but she’s not right that’s for sure. I don’t like her coming into the city at all. She doesn’t believe in the Holy Goddess and that’s a fact. Never see her at temple do you? It’s a curse in its own right to be around someone like that. She should just stay in that nasty shack in the woods, I’d feel much better if I never caught sight of her again!” The first of the three whistles blew meaning now was the time to sneak off or he’d risk being noticed when the second one sounded. Skirting the outside of the crowd he managed to duck into one of the outbuilding near the temple. The second and third Whistle sounded and the shuffling of eager worshippers grew quiet. When the stone doors of the temple clanged shut. The city was an eerie place during worship, like a ghost town, creepy and abandoned. This was when he felt most guilty about his lack of faith and his anger toward his dead parents. He wandered aimlessly. Until the city entrence were before him. His grandfather’s farm was on the other side of the city limits in the valley so the last time he had seen the gates was shortly after his parents had died and he’d come here. The long dirt road snaked off into the distance, the dark forest bordered on each side. The desire to walk away and leave it all behind was overpowering for a moment. Long strides took him down the road his mind knowing he’d turn around eventually. After the first bend he stopped and looked back the unfamiliar view was deeply disturbing but oddly exhilarating. Off the main road a small well-worn trail headed into the woods. Drunk on his own feelings his feet took to the path eagerly. Surrounded by trees and the thick smell of the forest started to feel uncomfortable. He was about to turn back when he saw a small plume of white smoke ahead. At the end of the trail sat a small dilapidated cabin. The chatter of the old woman began to fill his ears. “Shack in the woods……witch…curses….” The door creaked opened and a young woman in a white cloak stepped out. It was the girl from the alley. Holding the door she asked, “Why are you here?”

He was dumbfounded, unable to formulate an answer, partially because he had no idea why he was here and she was absolutely gorgeous. A series of mumbles escaped his mouth, which he promptly shut again. He was being stared at suspiciously, but he thought he noticed a glimmer of amusement and curiosity dance across her face. She fumbled with her cloak hiding her face she began to shut the door.

Frantically he shouted “Wait!” She paused for a moment, clearly waiting for him to offer another actual word or an explanation maybe. Struggling through the quicksand in his head he blurted out, “I came to ask you something about the Holy Goddess!” Instantly he regretted the statement.

But her door opened back up and she asked “Why?”

He was recovering but wasn’t sure if it would be quick enough. He stumbled a moment then asked “I’m not at the temple right now don’t you think that’s unusual, it’s a sin right?” She looked at him and around the area as if there was an entire hidden army lying in ambush, poised to attack if she admitted to the sin and in lei her own guilt.

Then answered “I guess?”

He sighed it was just one complete sentence but he was taking it as a win. His confidence swelled a little at the thought of not sounding like a complete moron. She came all the way outside the cabin, this time staring at him she asked “what’s your name?” Her face was mostly hidden in shadow but he could feel her eyes staring at him.

A few awkward moments passed before he heard himself saying “Cole.”

She seemed unsure but hesitantly asked: “Would you like to come in… Cole?” He felt a strange feeling wash over him as all the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. If a good excuse had floated into his head he would have refused, but at the risk of being turned into a frog by an angry forest witch he simply nodded.

Standing in the cabin doorway he hesitated, this is exactly what all those children’s fables warned you not to do. With shouldered resolution he walked through the threshold. Sunlight filtered in through one small window eliminating a small table and a few chairs in the middle of the cabin, a small bed was pushed against the wall under the window, the other wall consisted of a fireplace, the only empty wall was far from empty. It was lined with shelves and each shelf was packed with tiny shining trinkets and various tiny glass bottles. Obviously a collection of some sort.

“Please have a seat.” She said. She seated herself at the table motioning with her hand at an available chair. She was no longer wearing the white cloak. Her long hair spilled down her shoulders and her eyes shimmered strangely in the dim light. Nodding he felt the rushing blood of embarrassment color his face. What must she be thinking right now, here he was staring at her home like it was some sort of freak show. She smiled for the first time, “You’ll have to forgive me I don’t get many visitor well actually you’re the first visitor I’ve ever had,” she laughed. “I’m sure it must seem strange.” She added looking toward the wall of knick knacks as if they were thousands of miles away instead of a few feet. He wasn’t sure what she meant by that last statement exactly. Her eyes flitted back to him, “Didn’t you say you wanted to ask me something about the Holy Goddess?” She questioned. He felt like kicking himself for saying that, the Holy Goddess was actually the last thing he wanted to talk about. But short of coming of as a liar he rearranged his thoughts in preparation for the conversation.

“I don’t mean to be blunt but do you believe in the Holy Goddess?” he decided to ask.

She looked down at her hands for a few seconds before answering, “No, I don’t believe in her, I guess I never did, I know I never thought she was a goddess, and I never called her the Holy Goddess either.”

He was shocked it was such blatant blasphemy, but it was so wonderful to hear someone say it out loud. “Is that why you don’t live in the city? I don’t believe there is a Goddess either, that’s why I’m not in the temple today. I think my family are the only ones who know, I hide it well I guess. They think it’s a phase or something, they think I’ll snap out of it and come to my senses, but they’re wrong I don’t believe anymore, I just can’t.” He mumbled.

“I know what they say about me. I’m sure you’ve heard things too. That I’m cursed, a witch, a monster, a demon even. Maybe they’re right? Look at my life, I live alone in a shack in the woods, scaring grown men. Is it even a life? Its better if you hide it trust me. If you don’t believe it won’t hurt to pretend, you’re better off if you go to temple and fake it. Pride is a foolish emotion, what goods pride if your alone all the time?” she whispered staring down at her hands again.

He felt moved by the compassion of her words. He locked eyes with her smiling he said, “Thank you, I think you might be right about some of that. But I know you’re as wrong as everyone else about some of that too. You’re not what they say at all, in the words of a very wise cry baby, You’re a nice lady.” He tried not to notice the blush of red on her face after he finished.

“Thank you.” Was all she said.

He left the cabin feeling a strange mixture of emotions. That night he dreamt he was following a trail of bread crumbs that led him to a mossy cabin. Every time he got to the door he realized he was lost and had to follow the bread crumbs again. That morning he decided to take her advice and bowed his head at the Morning prayer. His grandparents were ecstatic, she was right pretending is better.