tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70025971042925928362024-03-12T21:24:47.992-07:00Jessh's PrideOphelia - Marie Flowershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00205089836253323416noreply@blogger.comBlogger4125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7002597104292592836.post-91008006737391894682015-10-19T08:27:00.000-07:002015-10-19T08:27:55.032-07:004<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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Black and white... Black ash, covering
the ground, the trees, the rock face – blackened trees, cracked and
bent – smoldering piles that still curled with choking smoke -
black...and white. White and blackened bones – skulls - some
crushed, as if the dragons, not satisfied with having torched
everyone – had purposely walked across them.
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<br /></div>
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I felt blank. The terror I'd felt up
until now shut off – like a candle being blown out. There was no
grief – not yet... All I felt was numbness as it crept from the
tips of my fingers and down my arms.
</div>
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<br /></div>
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Black. White. Grey. Death.
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Looking at those bones – some
collapsed in piles, others at the edge of the clearing as if some had
woken from the dragon song and tried to run - I knew that my village
was dead.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I made myself walk across the clearing
to the cave. I didn't look down, though I stumbled several times.
Almost every step resounded in loud popping and cracking. I didn't
let myself think about it.</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The dogs followed quietly behind me.
In the midst of it all, somewhere inside me I was grateful I wasn't
totally alone.</div>
<br />Ophelia - Marie Flowershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00205089836253323416noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7002597104292592836.post-30064165484422491712015-10-05T08:32:00.001-07:002015-10-20T03:52:30.269-07:003<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> It
had been twenty-two years since the last “choosing”. Of course I
wasn't there remember it, but I'd heard the hushed stories. My
father's younger brother found an egg at the edge of our village one
morning as he went out hunting.. He could have left it where he found
it for someone else to stumble across. He could have brought it to
the Council so lots could be drawn, as tradition mandated. But he
took it as his own.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> No
one will say it to my father's face, but I know a few think my uncle
took the coward's way out. He didn't say his goodbyes. He didn't tell
anyone what had happened. He penned a letter leaving everything he
owned to my father, and he went out into the forest to die.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> But
no one can truly argue that he wasn't brave in another way. He took
responsibility for what he had found... If he hadn't simply left, my
father would have made them draw lots... Or my father would have
taken the egg himself, despite the fact he had pregnant wife. My
uncle knew this. Once I took the letter from my father's drawer. The
last lines were. “ I have to do this. You have too much to live
for, Korren. I love you.”</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> They
found his body two days later. Killed by the dragon cub that had
hatched.</span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> He's
buried under an old Balli tree by the river, with others who have
died by dragons. It had been over thirty years since the last egg was
left for us to find, but before then, there were deaths almost every
year. Their graves remind us of their sacrifice. They remind us to
keep watch.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> People
like to try and forget about the dragons. Dragons tend to stay higher
up in the mountains, far enough away that they aren't part of
every-day life. Occasionally a younger one will come steal a few
sheep, but they tend to feed on the mountain goats in their
territory.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> Though
they're formidable predators, they don't hunt us. They are about the
size of a cow in height, though much more light-built. A war-party
with spears and arrows could probably take one down if given the
element of surprise. That is – if it weren't for their songs. They
can sing humans into a stupor, and demand that we come closer... If
they didn't sing, maybe we could fight them... </span></span>
</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> We
don't fear the dragons as much as we fear finding their eggs. When an
egg is found outside the village we have two choices – either kill
the cub when it hatches, or allow the cub to kill one of us before
its mother comes and reclaims it. The first isn't really much of a
choice. If you kill the cub, a swarm of dragons will come and burn
the whole village... </span></span><br />
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">And what if we leave the egg? What if we move it far outside our village and remove the threat that way? Then the dragons will come and choose someone for us. Mother - Child - Sole provider for a family - It won't matter to the dragons. Someone will be taken to die.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">So an adult is chosen by lot, or someone
volunteers. The last person to die before my uncle was an elder who
volunteered in place of her son. My Uncle Jesh and too many others–
they sacrificed their lives so we could live in peace. It has been
this way for generations.</span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> And
then Jesh died, and my father tried to make a change. </span></span>
</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> He
swore that no one else from his village would die by the claws of a
dragon. He and the Elder Council agreed – if ever another dragon
egg was left in the village, we would flee deep into the mountains
and wait them out.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Finally, that time had come.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background: transparent;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div>
Ophelia - Marie Flowershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00205089836253323416noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7002597104292592836.post-45767782023081279322015-10-01T21:35:00.002-07:002015-10-01T21:35:03.057-07:002<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> My
walk home was nothing to speak off. Triff kept wandering ahead –
he'd come bounding back if I called, wagging his tail and snuffling
around me before catching whiff of something else and again going out
of sight. It was a peaceful walk on the well-worn forest path. Trinn
stayed near me the whole way, keeping pace in her steady, calm way.
We ate a couple rabbits Triff and I caught and slept together in a
pile under the stars. That was the last peaceful night I'd have for a
long time.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> I
came home to find my village deserted. Empty. Belongings strewn
through the streets, and doors left ajar. Several stray chickens were
wandering loose, with their little ones bobbing around their feet.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> The
air was heavy with smoke, but nothing was burning. In the middle of
the village square was a small dead animal, slit from tail to throat,
with a few spears in its side. The blood around it was dark and
dried – a red-black stain in the dirt. Both dogs whined and sniffed
the air but wouldn't move closer. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> I
stood there in shock as persistent flies buzzed around the corpse...
The unmistakeable form of a dragon, even as small and bloodied as
this one was.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> Do
you know that sinking feeling that starts in your stomach and then
travels to your head? Where for a moment, you stop breathing, and you
can't think? Where the enormity and terror of the situation surrounds
your senses?</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> And
then.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> Everything
rushes back in.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> I
ran. I ran almost the whole way to the caves, with both dogs bounding
by my side. I had enough sense to slow my pace and creep in the last
half mile. Agonizingly slow, with my breaths coming in shallow gasps
as I tried to be quiet... Praying, hoping, that everything would be
fine. But there was so much smoke, and the forest was silent. I think
I knew, even as I stumbled and prayed my way to the mountain, that my
hope was dead with that dragon cub, rotting in the sun.</span></span></div>
Ophelia - Marie Flowershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00205089836253323416noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7002597104292592836.post-64701661165834179142015-10-01T19:12:00.000-07:002015-10-01T19:12:04.927-07:001<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> If
I hadn't been gone those extra days, I'd be dead too. Some nights I
lie awake turning that thought around in my head until my mind goes
blank.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> It
was the spring I was sixteen – my parents had let me stay at the
next village over, while they traveled back home. They almost made
Jessh stay with me. I remember him laughing and clapping his hands on
my shoulders.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> “Taalla
can take care of herself! She can almost take me down!” I moved as
if to elbow him, and he caught me in a bear hug. “I said almost!”
He kept one arm around me and tousled my hair before laughing again
and letting me go.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> I
knew he just wanted to get back home to check on his horse. She was
soon to give birth, and he didn't like being away. Still, I
appreciated his support. He was right too – I wasn't half bad with
my knife, and I was a better shot than him with my bow. </span></span>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> “I'll
be careful! It's only for a few days!”</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> Finally
they agreed to let me stay – so long as I stayed at the inn, and
wasn't out too late, and started home no later than early afternoon
of the third day. My mother rambled instructions while my father
nodded in agreement every time she paused. It would be a two day walk
back, but they left me our dogs Triff and Trinn so I wouldn't be
alone.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> All
I had wanted to do was stay the extra days of the festival... The
village of Rain's Pass was more than twice the size of ours, with a
market square that was teaming with life. It was exciting and
colorful... I remember having a good time. It feels a bit traitorous,
but I still think of those last few days fondly. One last bright
spark before the dark... </span></span>
</div>
Ophelia - Marie Flowershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00205089836253323416noreply@blogger.com0