260. You're Not Dead Yet

Emy: (shakes head) I never thought.

Kyra: What?

Emy: One of my greatest fears, being barren, childless.

Kyra: Yes?

Emy: Well, guess what?

Kyra: What?

Emy: As foolish as it sounds, and hear me out, and I know this is not gonna make sense, well, I’ve lost it.

Kyra: We’ve all lost a lot in the last few days. Perhaps it’s a blessing.

Emy: No, you don’t understand. The desire to be with child is still there.

Kyra: Oh.

Emy: I’ve lost all desire for sex.

Kyra: (blank look)

Emy: It hit me when I woke up. The well is dry. No matter how hard I try to distract myself from our fate, no matter how much I, well, you know, well, nothing. Not one scintilla of desire. There is just nothing there. And you know what?

Kyra: Tell me.

Emy: I’ve never felt that before and if you were to tell me this is the way it would be from this point forward, I’m not sure I would want to live. I feel as if the fear of dying, dying like this in this Janus forsaken metallic tomb, is killing me in pieces, toying with me, enjoying the torture. And there is not a damn thing I can do about it!

Kyra: Tell me more about this dying in pieces?

(before Emy can answer they both look up to the undulant echoes of metal on metal)

Kyra: Von, what was that?

Von: I don’t know.

Kyra: Friend or foe?

Von: I said I don’t know.

Kyra: Crap, we don’t need this now.

Emy: (breaks out in hysterical laughter)

Kyra: You find something funny about this?

Emy: I’m sorry, your reaction just seemed kinda funny in an absurd sorta way. Die today, die tomorrow, what does it matter?

Von: What’s going on down there?

Kyra: (stern look at Em) Nothing, on our way.

Emy: (tries to suppress her laughter)

Kyra: (slaps the shiott out of Em) Feel that?

Emy: (wipes a trickle of blood from her lip with the back of her hand) Yeah—

Kyra: You’re not dead yet, but—

Von: Hey, we’ve got trouble. I need some help.

Kyra: On our way.

Categories: Story, Kyra, Emy, Von

259. I'll Stand by You

Kyra: Von, did you ever think it would come to this?

Von: What do you mean?

Kyra: Let me ask you a different question. Do you feel as if you are standing between crenel and merlon, looking out upon a great battle taking place and a cold wind is whipping the flags above your head? You look with misty eyes and everything is slightly vague, not so much dreamlike, but just vague.

Von: Vague?

Kyra: Yeah vague. Vague like when you stare at a word long enough it no longer looks familiar, yet you know it is a word you’ve seen a thousand times. Vague as in fate moving on, but you’re not invited. Vague as in you know you should be hungry but you’re not.

Von: (heavy sigh) Tell me more about the view. What do you see on this great battlefield?

Kyra: I hear sounds, faint of glory won and glory lost. A drum here, a trumpet there, voices just out of reach, of charges made and lives lost. I smell soil dark with crimson and I look around and no one is speaking. The sounds grow louder as if waves upon the beach and instead of us moving to them, they are moving toward us. I want to move my feet, but I have no desire to move them, no energy. You know, that’s not quite right. The energy is there. I can feel it. I just see no reason to use it. I place my hands on the stone in front of me and it is warm and wet and the stone feels heavy. I’ve never noticed that before and I feel heavy too, as if this is where—(Kyra pauses, looking through Von)

Von: Where what?

Kyra: What?

Von: You were saying that this is where, and then you stopped.

Kyra: I always thought death would come—that it would come, not like this. (twirling her hair, Kyra smiles to no one) You know what I see on the umber fields before my mind? I see a mighty battle fought in muck and shine, fought in light and shadow and you know who is fighting that battle, protecting me with limb and life? Hope and Faith; Courage and Love. (pause) Hope, surrounded, digs in her heels, grits her teeth and renders another charge to mother and maker. (Kyra pauses again with an involuntary sigh) I look to the right and I see Courage swinging her mighty broadsword above her head, the metal singing in its arc. Her eyes are bloodshot with effort as the hordes close in. Faith is standing to her right, radiating with a force of light that becomes dimmer with each attack. And at the center of them all, Love. My dear sweet Love and you know what Love is doing?

Von: Tell me. What is Love doing?

Kyra: Love is singing. She is fortifying her troops with song sung from heart and lung and Hope and Faith and Courage fight on, inspired.

Von: How does it go?

Kyra: How does what go?

Von: Love’s song. What is she singing to her troops? (looks vacantly)

Kyra: I’ll stand by you.

Von: Sing it.

Kyra: (in broken verse Kyra begins to sing)

Oh, why you look so sad?
Tears are in your eyes
Come on and come to me now
Don’t be ashamed to cry
Let me see you through
cause I’ve seen the dark side too
When the night falls on you
You don’t know what to do
Nothing you confess
Could make me love you less

I’ll stand by you
I’ll stand by you
Won’t let nobody hurt you
I’ll stand by you

So if you’re mad, get mad
Don’t hold it all inside
Come on and talk to me now
Hey, what you got to hide?
I get angry too
Well I’m a lot like you
When you’re standing at the crossroads
And don’t know which path to choose
Let me come along
cause even if you’re wrong

I’ll stand by you
I’ll stand by you
Won’t let nobody hurt you
I’ll stand by you
Take me in, into your darkest hour
And Ill never desert you
Ill stand by you

And when...
When the night falls on you, baby
You’re feeling all alone
You wont be on your own

I’ll stand by you
I’ll stand by you
Won’t let nobody hurt you

I’ll stand by you
Take me in, into your darkest hour
And I’ll never desert you
I’ll stand by you
I’ll stand by you
Won’t let nobody hurt you
I’ll stand by you
Won’t let nobody hurt you
I’ll stand by you

(Silence)

Von: (a tear runs down his cheek)

Kyra: I’m dying in pieces. And I see it. I’m witnessing my own death, belief by belief. I feel my heart beat and it beats with a ferocity I don’t call my own and I hear a cry. I see a beam of light, like lightning but flowing from ground to sky and for a moment I can’t breathe and I’m blinded. The cry is cold and warm and I fear it and embrace it and my head hurts. I’m sorry Von.

Von: No please, keep going.

Kyra: You ever pray?

Von: No.

Kyra: I’ve been praying. To Janus. To Kieran. To Papa. And you know what I hear?

Von: (just looks)

Kyra: Nothing.

Von: (looks down)

Kyra: Do you hear it? Carried on the winds of the innocent, those not involved in this fight. Sounds like whispers, growing. I reach forward but you can’t hold a memory. Are you cold?

Von: Yes.

Kyra: Am I crazy? These visions, these voices?

Von: You’re Hynerian.

Kyra: This is not how it is suppose to end. Not like this. And then I think, who am I and what do I know. What if this is all there is? What if everything I believed about seeing Kieran and Papa again was a lie? And then I wonder if I just imagined it all. And then I think, so this is it. There is nothing more. No one is coming for us. No one is going to rescue us. And I wonder if all that I am is nothing and all my life has been a dream, a deception.





I'll Stand by You
The Pretenders

Categories: Story, Kyra, Von

258. Secpar

John: Strap in, sit back and enjoy the view. Nothing quite like entering secpar propulsion.

Rog: (shakes head) Unfrailingbelievable!

Categories: Story, Rog, John Discovery

257. Cartograph

Map of the Empyrean sector, last known location of Bravo as shown to Rog by John.

Categories: Story

256. You Hung the Moon

Ariel: Mommy?

Cait: Yes dear?

Ariel: Does daddy still love us?

Cait: (takes a controlled breath) Yes, he loves us very much.

Ariel: Then why won’t he talk to me anymore?

--

Cait: John?

John: Hi Sweetie.

Cait: Your daughter had a question for me this afternoon. Would you like to hear it?

John: Of course. What did she ask?

Cait: If you still loved her.

John: (silence)

Cait: Did you hear me John?

John: Yes, put her on the phone.

Cait: She’s not here. Grand picked her up a few minutes ago.

John: I see.

Cait: Do you know why Grand came and picked her up?

John: (trying to control his growing irritation) Tell me Cait. Tell me what’s on your mind.

Cait: Because I’ve been crying my eyes out ever since she asked the question. Do you have any idea what that felt like, to be asked that question by your child? No, you don’t, because you would have to be here to hear it.

John: (hesitates)

Cait: John!

John: Honey, I—

Cait: Don’t honey me. You have no idea because if you did, if you have any sense of what I just experienced, the look in that young child’s eyes, you’d be here. But you’re not here. Are you John?

John: You know I love you and Ariel more than anything in the world.

Cait: You might fool me John, and I’ll forgive you, but you aren’t fooling that little girl, that precious little girl who thinks you hung the moon. (pause) Did you give her a magic pillow?

John: (rolls eyes) Yes.

Cait: And did you promise her you would fix it?

John: Crap. (shakes head) Hon, I completely forgot.

Cait: I know. But there is a little girl who didn’t, a little girl that misses her father, a little girl that doesn’t understand why you are gone again and why her pillow, you, don’t talk to her anymore.

--

Rog: Cait?

John: Yeah.

Rog: All good?

John: Yeah, all good.

Rog: Right. We’re just two righteous dudes aren’t we.

John: (knowing smile)

--

Goldie: Ms Kyra, is everything going to be okay?

Kyra: I don’t know Goldie.

Goldie: I’ve talked to Pinkie.

Kyra: Yeah? What about?

Goldie: We want to reverse flow our remaining power into the auxiliary system.

Kyra: Come here Goldie. (Kyra kisses her metal forehead) How did Papa do it?

Goldie: Do what Ms Kyra?

Kyra: Give you a heart of gold.

Goldie: (blinks eyes)

Kyra: Tell Pinkie I do greatly appreciate the gesture, but I’m afraid even between the two of you, it would make no difference. Besides, if we are going down, we go down together. (Kyra tries to smile) You got that?

Goldie: Yes ma’am.

--

Rog: So, do you feel like shiott?

John: (laughs) Yeah. That about sums it up.

Rog: Yep. Suppose it does.

Commentary/Reading: You Hung the Moon



Categories: Story, Kyra, Goldie, John Discovery, Caitlin, Ariel, Rog

255. Good is Good

[John and Rog on their way]

John: So how’d it go with Yul?

Rog: Good.

John: Good.

Rog: And Cait?

John: Good.

Rog: Really?

John: Yeah. Good.

Rog: I guess we’re good then.

John: Yep. Good. Like butter on a hot roll.


30 Minutes later . . .


Rog: Can I make a call from this thing?

John: Go for it.

Rog: (calls hospital) Yul. Hey it’s Rog.

Mairi: Sorry Rog, this is Mairi.

Rog: Oh. Can you put Yul on?

Yul: I don’t wanna talk to that bastard.

Mairi: She says—

Rog: I heard. Put her on anyway.

Yul: Frail him, he made his choice.

Mairi: Rog.

Rog: (big sigh) Yeah. I heard.

Mairi: Look, the meds they’ve got her on—

Yul: (interrupting) I’m not on no frailing meds. Tell him that. Now! Tell him!

Mairi: Okay, Yul. I’ll tell him.

Rog: What the hellocks is going on?

Mairi: I have no idea.

Yul: Give me the frailing phone. (Mairi does) Rog?

Rog: It’s me baby. I—

Yul: Shut the frail up. Look, you made your choice and I know where I stand. I’m not blaming you, you only made the same choice everyone else in my life has made. I only blame myself for being an idiot in thinking that this time things could be different, would be different, that you were different. And then I realized, it’s not you or anyone else. The problem is me. I’m the common denominator. So, it’s over. I’ve had all I can take. No more. Do you hear me?

Rog: Baby, I—

Yul: Frail! It’s a yes or no frailing question! Janus, why is that so frailing difficult.

Rog: Yes.

Yul: Good, because I want you to hear this next bit loud and clear. You ready?

Rog: Yes.

Yul: I want you out of my life. I want you out now and I want you out forever!

Rog: (Rog heard a crash and then a dial tone rang in his ear before he could respond; several attempts at calling back only resulted in a busy signal)

Mairi: (picking up pieces of the phone) You made yourself pretty clear. Why are you crying?

Yul: That Hynerian is the only one who has ever loved me.

John: So, how are things?

Rog: Good. Things are good.

John: Good. (looking sheepish) That’s good that things are good.

Rog: Yeah. Good is good. Right. Good.

Commentary/Reading: Good is Good



Categories: Story, Rog, Yul, Mairi, John Discovery

254. I Think It's Time

[Mairi standing bedside holding Yul’s hand. Rog has just left]

Mairi: Are you ok?

Yul: (no answer)

Mairi: I understand if you don’t want to talk. If you change your mind, I’m here.

Yul: It’s not that. (Yul stopped)

Mairi: (after a few minutes waiting for Yul to continue) Care to share what it is?

Yul: I hate myself. I think it’s time.

Mairi: Time? Time for what?

Yul: Look, I know Rog had to make the choice he did. Hellocks, I told him to go, that it was the right thing. And that’s just it. All my life Mairi. I’ve been frailed up all my life and no matter how much I pretend otherwise, life always comes back and slaps me like an ugly step-child. This disease is no accident. It’s fate. Fate telling me I don’t belong. I didn’t belong on Hyneria and I don't belong on Bravo. And you know what really chaps my arse now? If “Yul” had taken her rightful place, she would be here now, in this hospital with the potential to be saved.

Mairi: You don’t know that. Besides--

Yul: I’m tired Mairi. I’m just really tired. I think I want to sleep now. (Yul closes her eyes)

Commentary/Reading: I Think It's Time




Categories: Story, Yul, Mairi

253. Hospital Jackarse

[Rog walks in to his apartment and finds only Trev]

Rog: Hey Trev, where’s Yul?

Trev: I take it you didn’t get the message?

Rog: What message? (Rog sees the blinking light on his comm)

Trev: That message.

Rog: Shiott, what now?

Trev: Yul collapsed. Thankfully Mairi was here.

Rog: What do you mean collapsed? And where is she now?

Trev: I wasn’t here. Mairi said Yul was just talking away, got faint and passed out. She wasn’t able to revive her, called hospital and they took her away. We tried to call you, but you didn’t answer.

Rog: (grimaces) Yeah, well, I got news too. Mairi was right. Bravo is in a world of hurt. Grab your stuff. Let’s go.

Trev: Where?

Rog: Hospital jackarse. I’ll fill you in on the way.

Categories: Story, Rog, Trev

252. Tell Them

[After a minute or so of staring each other down, John sits down and then Rog. Neither talks as the red light on John’s desk, the only movement in the room, continues to blink.]

Rog: Are you going to answer that?

John: Holy crap.

Rog: What?

John: It’s from Bravo.

Rog: Are you just gonna just sit there? Answer the damn thing.

John: We missed the call.

Rog: What?

John: But there is a message.

The Message:

John, this is Kyra, do you read? (brief pause—only static heard) I only have two minutes for this transmission, so I’ll be brief. We’ve been attacked, hit, bad—Bravo is dead in the water. Don’t know who or why. Don’t know if they will be back. We have only auxiliary power, which at our current rate of consumption will provide us with heat and air for six days, maybe less. Please send help. (another brief pause—sound of coughing heard in the background) John, in the event you do not get this message in time, I want you to relay a message from me, us. Please tell Rog and Yul and Trev and Mairi that we love them. (slight pause) Tell them to be strong and that our thoughts and prayers are with Yul. Tell Rog he is a helluva Hynerian and the best damn pilot I’ve ever known. Tell Yul I could not be more proud of her and that I know she will win this battle, she is just too stubborn not to. Tell Trev I want him to be the doctor he always dreamed he could be and I won’t take no for an answer. He has the ability, the talent. Tell him to believe. I do. Tell Mairi I’ve never known a more brave soul. Tell her to look to the future. Tell them all we have no regrets. Tell them to live their lives with no regrets, to live like Hynerians, to live in love. One more thing John. I have a favor to ask. Tell Cait and Ariel that you love them. Hold them tight and tell them today and tell them every day. Will you do that for me? I won’t take no for an answer. Understood? And one more thing John. You are a special man and there is something I need to tell you, something you need to hear. I—(transmission cuts out).


Rog: Is that it? Is there more? There must be more.

John: Afraid that’s it.

Rog: And she is praying for us? Frail that.

John: How soon can you be ready?

Rog: I’m ready now.

John: And Yul?

Rog: She’ll understand. What about Cait?

John: There’ll be hell to pay. (pause) There is one thing you need to know.

Rog: What?

John: Our fastest ship will take seven days to arrive at their location.

Categories: Story, Rog, John Discovery, Kyra

251. "Do You Read?"

Kyra pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders as if the gesture would keep her teeth from chattering. Her face, like Von’s and Em’s was pale, drawn, grim. Together they had agreed. To have the power to make one transmission, one hundred and twenty seconds, it would cost them twenty degrees of heat over the next six days, at which time all power would be exhausted and heat and cold would no longer matter. So, they sat huddled in the numbing cold and looked blankly at the transmission screen as sailors stranded on the open ocean look at their last flare.

The switch stood, firehouse red, stark in the haunting blueness of breath frozen in mock witness to hope tumbling in a freefall of inevitability. Kyra’s trembling hand reached halfway, and then, as if the invisible hand of fate itself held court, she stopped. Looking with listless eyes, incapable of conveying the gravity of failure, Von, and then Em, nodded their heads. Her gloved hand continued its journey. Contact. 120, 119, 118, yet words were stuck and panic knocked on walls thin with fatigue and hunger.

“John, this is Kyra. Do you read?”

Categories: Story, Kyra, Von, Emy

250. Can't or Won't

Midway into Rog’s visit:

Rog: What the hell do you mean no search and rescue mission?

John: Not my call to make. I’ve taken the request as high as I can.

Rog: Bullshiott!

John: What?

Rog: Your conscience. Have you taken it to your conscience? Tell me that John?

John: You think I don’t care about those Vollmond pilots? The one’s I sent into harm’s way? To protect Bravo. Do you know—

Rog: I know what I see and what I see is you sitting on your arse offering bullshiott excuses. Gawd damn John, look at yourself.

John: Look, I’m not going to pretend I could ever care for your crew as much as you do—

Rog: [banging fists on John’s desk] That’s not the frailing point! I don’t give a rat’s arse for thoughts. You want thoughts, go talk to Yul, she’s full of ‘em.

John: What do you want from me Rog?

Rog: I want a ship, a vessel, one with parsec capability.

John: And what would you do with such a vessel? You can’t fly it, can’t read the instrumentation. Hell, you wouldn’t even know where to go.

Rog: Then come with me.

John: I can’t.

Rog: Can’t or won’t?

[John stood up, put his hands on his desk, leaned over and stared at Rog, oblivious to the blinking red light on his desk.]

Categories: Story, John Discovery, Rog

249. I've Got the Power

Rog laced the strap to his robe and pulled it tight, fleetingly proud that between cloth and muscle was not much. Yul combed her hair with her fingers and nodded. Rog opened the door.

“Sorry to bother you guys,” said Mairi, not waiting to be invited to come in. “I can’t hold this in anymore.”

Rog looked at Yul and she shrugged her shoulders. “Have a seat Mairi. Can I get you anything?”

“Some snizzle would be great if it’s not too much trouble.”

“None at all, was about to fix a fresh brew.”

“I’ll do that Rog,” said Yul.

“Thanks sweetie. Now, what’s on your mind Mairi?”

“Have you heard from Kyra, since we parted ways?”

“No, wasn’t really expecting too, at least not this soon. Why do you ask?”

“I’ve got a very bad feeling.”

Rog sat up, putting his forearms on his knees as if to leverage the extension of his neck. “What kind of bad feeling?”

“Like something has gone terribly wrong, not just a little wrong, but tragically wrong.”

Yul walked in with three blue onyx cups of snizzle on a wooden tray. Mairi took a cup, her hand had a slight tremble. Rog ignored the tray and continued, “Do you know something we don’t?”

Mairi shook her head.

“So, this is just a feeling then?”

Yul jumped in. She wasn’t sure why, but she felt something in Mairi’s tone, something Rog didn’t. “Tell us more about this feeling.”

Mairi sighed and looked down and her eyes watered.

“Mairi, what’s wrong?” asked Yul, looking somewhat concerned at how quickly the intensity in the room ratcheted up.

“I need to show you something.” Mairi stood up and her hands gingerly rolled down the turtleneck she wore, which, Yul took note, she never seemed to wear before she was captured. Rog and Yul got quiet and Mairi begin to quiver.

“Oh my Janus,” exclaimed Yul. “What the frail is that?”

“A little gift from the good doctor.”

Rog stood up and moved closer wanting to reach out and touch her neck. “What did they do to you?”

“He called it an ampulator, a living organism that, as the doctor said, would form a symbiotic relationship with my nullness. He placed it around my neck and,” Mairi paused as if a bitter aftertaste made her frown, “and the creature’s hundreds of little receptors attached themselves to my nerve endings like the tentacles of a small cephalopod.”

“Oh my Janus,” Yul repeated. “Why didn’t you tell us?” She regretted the words almost before they left her tongue.

“Some things you don’t want to remember, to relive, to give a second life to—once was enough. Until now.”

“I’m sorry Mairi.”

“No need. I’ve come here of my own accord.”

“Please continue.”

“The amp, as the good doctor liked to call it--. Mairi stopped as tears came down like flashing railroad gates, seemingly unable to continue as the vivid memories sped by in her mind.

Rog looked stunned. Yul hugged Mairi. “You don’t have to continue.”

“I’ll be okay. Give me a second.”

“Take your time.”

Mairi blew her nose and wiped her tired eyes. Then she continued. “When they took the vile thing off, I thought I was done, I thought I was free.”

“You are free Mairi. It’s gone,” said Rog.

Mairi tried to smile. She knew Rog meant well. “Not exactly.”

“What do you mean?” responded Rog, slowing his voice as if he wanted to hear what he was saying.

“I suppose you’ve noticed I’ve worn nothing but turtlenecks lately. Seems the amp has tattooed my neck. I’m told it will fade in time, but never completely go away. Seems I’m stuck with a visual reminder of that horror, a little going away present, if you will.”

Yul just looked on, not knowing what to say that wouldn’t sound patronizing. She tried to imagine how she would feel if her physical appearance had been altered against her will, in a permanent way.

Before she could respond, Mairi added, “But that doesn’t bother me as much as the other side effect. I’m not the same person I was before.”

“You will always be Mairi to us,” said Rog, shaking his head as if his words needed additional emphasis.

“It’s not that,” said Mairi. “The amp has ‘awakened” a dormant quality of my nullness, unlocked it so to speak. Remember me saying, or perhaps it was just Kyra that I told, that I was a child of the shells but that I had no clue what made me so?”

Yul looked at Rog and he returned the look.

“No matter. I now know. I know and it terrifies me.”

“What terrifies you?”

“I see things. I feel things. Things I never saw, never felt before as if a whole channel of communication has opened to me, one that was there all along, but one I never knew existed. Do you understand what I am saying?”

“Keep going.”

“This nullness, if you want to call it that, as best as I can figure, and keep in mind, I’ve only had this ability since I returned, is not bound by space and time. I can see things, feel things, in other places, in other times.”

“Whoa,” said Rog. “Are you shiotting me?”

“No.”

Rog didn’t know what to say. He was expecting a longer answer, one he could pick apart, somehow.

“Kyra, Von and Em are in grave danger. My powers are not so refined that I can tell you what happened or how it happened or why it happened, but I know, and please don’t ask me to explain it because I can’t, but I know beyond any doubt something is terribly wrong. I feel a silence that should not be there. I feel a coldness that was never there before. I hear whispers just beyond my ability to decipher. I hear a call for help.”

Rog thought for a second. “But why hasn’t she called us?”

“Maybe she can’t?”

“Or maybe, she called someone else, someone she thought would be in the best position to help her.”

Rog shot up. “You two stay here. I’m going see John.”

Categories: Story, Mairi, Rog, Yul

248. Von's Journal #3

Von was the last to rise and he looked like a child awaken from pleasant dreams only to be told to hurry, he was running late for school. He politely listened to Kyra’s update. When she finished, he excused himself; “to think”, he said.

Get out of the boat. Swim. Swim naked. Splash and laugh.

Believe the act, for in the act we see the heart.

Distrust those slippery messengers of language bred from bastards and whores of origins unknown.

White lies know a higher truth.

Unkind words are like thieves, only worse. They steal the most valuable gift we have—time.

We are like color. In light we exist. In twilight we fade. And in darkness, we all but cease to exist (we are born in light—as light fades, the very hue of our lives follows till the curtain of our days rises never more).

Every yes is also a no.

Von slammed his journal shut. “Kyra, I’ve got an idea.”

“On our way Von. Come on Em.” And the two moved like ideas were gold, not the platform for someone’s ego.

Categories: Story, Kyra, Von, Emy, Journal

247. What Baby?

“You know what I like about you?” Yul asked Rog.

“What?”

“You know how to let go.”

“What?”

“Frailing.”

Rog shook his head. “What the bullocks are you talkin’ bout?”

“Not everyone can frail like you. It’s an art baby, it’s the art of letting go and I’ve never frailed anyone who can let go like you. Hellocks, most don’t even know they are still holding on and that holding on is what keeps them from being good frailers.” Yul smiled.

“Good frailers huh?” Rog thought about that for a second. “So, you’re saying I’m a good frailer.”

Yul laughed. “Yeah, I’m saying that, but I want to know. Do you know you let go?”

“What?”

“Do you know that when you frail me, you let go?”

“Baby, I have no idea what you’re talkin’ bout. When I’m frailing you, all I’m doing is frailing you.”

“I know. You don’t frail me with ideas or baggage or inhibitions or rules or tradition. You just frail me. And you know what?”

“What?”

“That is the only way to frail, because frailing is not about frailing, it’s not what it appears to be looking in from the outside. Real frailing, the way you frail me, is not an act, an exercise, a game, a duty, an obligation. It’s not lust or desire or control or power or submission. Yet, in a way, it’s all those things and none of those things.”

Rog just kinda stared at Yul like she was speaking in tongues.

Yul continued. “The art of frailing is the art of letting go, of riding the spontaneous waves of two souls on an ocean not of this world, of expression that slips the bonds of you and me and becomes a joining, a synthesis, if you will, a union where one plus one becomes three.”

“Baby, I don’t mean to rain on your parade, but you’re kinda ruining the moment.”

“Exactly! You see?”

“See what?”

“See that everything I just said is adding, not letting go. I introduced ideas, I put baggage on your shoulders, I’ve interrupted the flow and I’m hanging on to my ideas and as long as I hang on to those thoughts, to the ego that wants my ideas recognized, then I’m not letting go, I’m not in the flow and the frailing becomes flat, it becomes ordinary, just an exercise, and you know what?”

“What?”

“When it becomes just an exercise, just ordinary, I want out.”

“Now, those are spanking words.”

“I mean I want what was, I want what can be, I want that zipless, wordless frail that I know is out there. I want that release, that letting go, the letting go that can only be achieved in union, in union with one that knows, knows how to let go, and baby, that’s what you do to me, that’s what you do for me, that’s what you do with me. Don’t you see it?”

Rog smiled. “Baby, all I see is the look in your eye, the warmth of your breath, the passion in your touch.”

“You see the three. You see us, together. You don’t see me and you don’t see you. You do that, instinctively.”

Grinning, Rog said, “You know, you’re making me horny.”

“Talk is cheap.”

“Then shut the frail up and roll over here. I’ve got something I’m feeling a need to, how do you say it, let go.”

And like children lost in play, what was seen and what was felt could only make one smile.

“Rog, do you ever wonder what it would be like to frail a god, to frail the best? You know, somewhere, someone is the best.”

Rog thought about that as if the thought had never occurred to him.

“Baby, you do that for me. You take that wonder, that thought and you obliterate it into dust, for when you frail me, I know, in every nerve ending, in every cell, healthy and not, that it could never get, could never be, any better.”

Rog smiled like a poker player looking for the bluff.

Yul noticed that smile and added, “Do you have any frailing idea what that is like? To know, to experience, to enter a flow few ever enter; to reach a destination that fills your body and mind and soul so completely, so absolutely that you feel a joy, an ecstasy that explodes like thousands upon thousands of flowers on the most glorious meadow with golden rays of sun that warm skin with sensations divine and delight eye like candy before a child? A place where steps are taken but not felt, where the expanse of joy is so great, so complete, there is no room for anything else?”

“Baby, have you been messing with those vials again?”

“Baby, look at me. Life is short and we both know why we are here and I just want you to know what you do to me. I don’t want something to happen and never have the chance to say what I’m saying. And you know what?”

“What?”

“I’ve never felt like this before. I’ve never been able to let go like I’m letting go right now, and you know what else?”

“What baby?”

“I’m just frailing exploding with the joy inside of me, the joy you’ve shown me, the joy we create, but most of all, the joy I’m able to express to you, right here, right now. Do you have any idea how it feels to be able to say what I’m saying—the freedom? I’m free baby, free to open my heart, free to express. You’ve taught me that. You’ve taught me how to let go, how to open without fear, how to open without expectation, how to just open. Baby, I may be opening my arms, my legs, but if that’s all you see, you are missing me opening my soul and you are missing our souls at play in the waters of the divine flow.”

Rog pulled Yul tight, his eyes full with unshed tears of a joy he could not explain and he hugged her like they were on the stone floor of her dark bathroom, and as before, Yul felt a hug that was more than a hug—she felt a soul melting into her, she felt minds in tune, the harmony of a pure understanding shared.

As tears christened the moment, the buzzer sounded. “Rog, Yul, this is Mairi. Open up. Hurry."

Categories: Story, Rog, Yul, Mairi

246. Rainbow Owls

Kyra held Em tight, for whose benefit could no more be determined than what was twilight and what was dusk. In warmth, comfort found, and in silence memories roamed, triggered by a touch, a smell, or in this case, a simple phrase that opened the door to a time long forgotten (ago). Perhaps the coldness, perhaps the utter isolation, or perhaps the look on Em’s face and those simple words took Kyra back to Valla, to a time where need and want blended beyond perception.

“Papa, I’m scared,” said Kyra as she pulled her small four-year-old knees into her tiny chest as if she could roll herself into a doodlebug; her chin tucked in the valley of her knees, her eyes rolled upward like full moons looking toward the sun of Papa’s face. Papa sat on the edge of her bed, his tanned complexion appearing golden and warm in the soft light from the nightstand, one hand resting on the bed and the other on his knee. Trying not to smile, for fear Papa would leave, for why would he stay if there was not a fear to ease, Kyra took a breath of Papa, a scent forever consistent, from earliest memories to the dock, a scent that could only be described as a non-scent, a scent of purity, of freshness, of cleanliness, of a fresh ocean breeze, yet, however one wanted to characterize it, the scent was Papa and the scent was confidence and the scent forever held the key to a thousand memories.

“We are all scared Kyra. If you tell me yours, I’ll tell you mine.” Papa spoke to Kyra as an equal, as he would an adult in tone and delivery. There was no baby talk. There was no paternalistic patting of the head, of presupposition, but an openness to share without façade, to share on what he called a higher plane, which was to say, to share with the intent not to protect or even educate, but to share with the intent, to take the opportunity so clear in his mind, to build trust, to build relationship, to build the bonds of love and to do so not as one above the other, not as grandparent to grandchild, but to build a relationship in the flow of love with the acknowledgement that in that flow, there is no superior, no distinction, there is just the melding of souls into the universal mother of existence.

With the very thought that her Papa had fears too, that he was willing to share them with her, Kyra felt her heart open into the warmth of his being, as she would countless times over the next two decades. In later years, her mind often raced to find an incongruity in his behavior, to find a time when she felt she could not open herself to him, and she marveled at how he did it, at how no such time existed. Papa was not perfect, but he was perfectly open and honest and loving.

“There is a sound Papa, from outside. Be very quiet.” And so they sat for a couple minutes like two big radar stations on watch, ears attuned for the sound. “There it is Papa,” said Kyra, her arms springing from her knees like a lock released. “Did you hear it?”

“I did indeed.”

“See, I told you something was out there. What is it Papa?”

“It’s a mother owl singing a lullaby to her babies. The trees around our villa are filled with these beautiful creatures. In fact, they glow the most beautiful colors of the rainbow when they are happy. Would you like to go see them?”

Kyra looked up as if Papa had just told her of a magical tale, one just outside their doors.

“Let’s get dressed,” said Papa standing up. “Put on your slippers and a coat and I’ll go do the same and we’ll go sit and watch and listen.”

Papa came back a few minutes later and Kyra jumped on his back, arms around his neck and legs locked tightly around his ribcage. Papa could feel her small heart beating against his back and he smiled at the great adventure she must have felt. Grandma Kyra stood in the kitchen, a smile on her face, her robe on her shoulders, as they exited the back door.


“Kyra?” asked Em. “Sorry I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Kyra smiled, “Sorry Em, I was just lost in thought.”

“Are we going to be okay?”

“Have I ever told you about the time I first heard the rainbow owls back home?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Let’s grab a seat. I think you’ll like this story.”

Commentary within the reading: Rainbow Owls




Categories: Story, Kyra, Papa, Grandma Kyra, Emy