Meg Sefton's Blog, page 6

Flight

Day 25

It must have been the food poisoning and antinauseant, as well as the conditions of sleeping on cold stone, that produced a fever dream: A dragon arising from the snowy mountaintops while I sat on a ledge as if I were a sacrifice to some angry god or an offering of atonement. I felt the dragon’s white-hot breath on my exposed torso and I heard my granny say “A crisis is an opportunity riding the dangerous wind.” I jumped off the ledge and found I could fly.

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Sirens

Day 20

One of our travelers, Bolin Chao, seemingly so stoic and strong, has begun to imagine the limerence of beautiful invisible creatures for his person. He labels them giant sirens who will pull him into madness. He sings to them as if to soothe himself and please them all at once. In the morning, his eyes are wild and he seems bereft of the healing touch of sleep. Morning Flower has administered the opium pipe to no avail and so we will pray this morning and anoint him with oil.

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Note about sirens: “The Sirens were hybrid creatures with the body of a bird and the head of a woman, sometimes also with human arms. One tradition states their origin as companions of Persephone and, failing to prevent her rape, they were transformed into Sirens as punishment.” (“Siren” by Mark Cartwright, World History Encyclopedia)

The Old

It was said an Old survived the New Dawning regime and lived in a tower overlooking the gorge. In writings, it was said he had lived one thousand years. And yet, when we arrived at the famous site of his home, there was no clinomanic gentleman whose snores were judgments against the devourers of history, belief, and culture. There was only an ivy-covered tower that whistled with the wind rushing through, a tower that cried to the clouds, that sang an ancient history.

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*The word prompt for this picture prompt was “clinomania” meaning “an excessive desire to remain in bed; morbid sleepiness.” I couldn’t find its adjectival form online, but I took liberties and treated it like the words “mania” and “hypomania.”

Shaman Morning Flower

Shaman Morning Flower spoke of her vision and what it meant and we pressed close to hear her famigerate as if spies were as close as we were to each other: We would encounter three spires in the cold light of the glowing moon, a moon as bright as the sun. The spires stood for three challenges to our mission to locate our remaining relatives. We would be fortunate to escape with our lives. Moon Flower’s shamanism itself would have meant our death under the New Day Dawning regime.

#promptodon prompt-based fiction on Mastodon, the writing exchange instance

*The word prompt for this picture prompt was “famigerate,” an old word that meant sharing news from abroad, or talking about foreign news. I took liberties here, but the shaman’s visions would be that foreign territory that she herself interprets for her listeners.

Vision

Dear Brother,

I remember being frightened by a pareidolic vision of a woman in the fire at a book burning and incineration of our confessions. I told Mother “That is the sin eater” and she shushed me and gathered me up with you and rushed us home in fear of the New Dawning spies who would arrest us for suspicious beliefs. That night, the woman enveloped me in her fire. She said: “Little Sister, I do not wish for your papers, only a pure heart, the purity of love and imagination.”

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Limerence

Journal, Day 12

The day before departure from Perm, my spiritual mother advised me to beware of inevitable limerence among passengers. It would be the time spent together as well as the danger that would create obsessions and often unlikely romances. She warned me of unwanted attachments my charges may develop for me as their leader, but also of the attraction I may feel should subconscious needs become triggered. “These feelings are often delusions,” she warned. “Steer clear.”

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Evergreen

December 25

On our first day with our hospitable hosts, we witnessed a miracle of giant evergreens surrounding their home. In the golden hour, we awoke after a nap to the ennobling sight of trees of days past. We spoke of our childhoods at Christmas, of traditions. Mr. Chen told the story of the tree who loved a child. We cried that so many trees have been destroyed by the government of New Day Dawning. Someone began to sing. The trees glowed and we basked in their glory.

Meimei

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Christmas Day

On Christmas Day, we believed the vision experienced the night before was given to us by an influencing presence: The appearance of an enormous stone angel and a knight, protecting and guiding us to warm lodging. Many of us have kept our faith despite persecution. We believed the dream or vision was a kind of gift for we felt relaxed despite having slept on cold stone and well-fed despite having supped on our meager supplies. We awoke this morning, refreshed and full of hope.

White Tiger

Dear Brother,

In the cliff beside the Fall of Heaven, it is said an ancient warrior rests with a chatoyant gemstone on his breast. After the damn floods the relics and temples, he will return as the White Tiger. This morning from our boat, we witnessed a few of the remaining cliff coffins, as well as a new city. Yet a roiling bank of fog swirling down the valley, a portent of the warrior, sprung to life. I know it is your spirit, dear brother, giving me strength to press on.

Meimei

Dream in the Valley

Journal, Day 3

Our viatic mission is having various effects upon the group, being that we are camped in the valley where so many buildings and ancestral relics were destroyed by the damming of the river. Last night, under a full moon, Mrs. Singh had a dream of her daughter standing in a glowing portal, beckoning her. And yet, she felt some uneasiness about it, as if the portal were a beginning and an end, all at once, for the portal swiftly closed, taking her daughter with it.