1st Bonus Story from “Death by Advertising.”
Title story starts here.
If you can’t wait, or want your own copy, visit https://calm.li/DeathByAdvertising
A Goddess Visits
The goddess came to me last night.
She said there was a gold mine between my ears, but I’d have to start using it.
Until I did, I could spend none of it. And would be working hand-to-mouth for the rest of my life.
She wore a gossamer-thread shift over her, which was a bit distracting. Golden hair, clear blue eyes. None of this covered her feminine features very well.
Have you ever seen gossamer? It’s extremely thin, and rare. It’s the stuff young spiders put out in order to catch the wind and fly to their new homes. Of course, it’s the same stuff web silk is made from, so is extremely tough. When you walk through the woods, you’ll find that across trails and catching in your face. So tough that you can almost hear it “pling” as it breaks. So thin that you barely see it except when you catch the sun glinting off it.
So making an entire garment out of this would be expensive, and humans wouldn’t find it possible.
“Fairies.” She said.
“Huh?” I asked.
“Fairies collected and wove these strands into cloth.” She said.
“Well, that would make sense. Providing you believe in fairies.” I replied.
“They don’t need you to believe in them. That rumor got started by a writer and his stage play.” A slight frown crossed her face. “Fairies only appear in your universe if you believe in them. That’s the trick. They still exist regardless of whether you believe in them or not. But they only show up if you ask them, or expect them, even as a stray thought.”
“Like the odd times that you see a single small branch waving in the wind, but you feel no wind, and nothing else is moving.” I said.
“Exactly. But that might not be a fairy. Might be a goblin. Might be a poltergeist.” she said.
“Could be helpful. Could be dangerous. How would I tell?” I asked.
“Only by accepting it as it is and figuring out how to talk with it. If you can’t see it, you haven’t accepted it enough, yet.” she answered.
“So I see only what I want to see.” I said.
“Sure, like it’s always been. Like you don’t hear the teacher sometimes in class. Like when you ‘tune out’ to some recording and find it ‘rewritten’ when you listen to it again — new sections you’d ‘never heard’ before. This is old stuff. You’ve been through this. Selective perception.” She idly played with a loose thread on the bed’s quilt.
And the patch-worked, padded quilt she sat on was more or less tidy that day. I’d pulled it and the comforter, the various thinner blankets below it that kept me warmish in winter. Blues and rust reds in the cloth patches that were stiched together and then sewn into the padded batting in between. Old school. Comforts you can’t buy except in Amish country. Old skills that were lost generations ago.
It fit the old cabin I wrote and lived in. Small, one-room, with a table for writing and a counter with the kitchenette I needed. And a simple electrical box that would click off if I tried to run an electric heater or A/C window box at the same time I was cooking. A small shelf of books, one chair to sit in.
Why a goddess would come and visit this minimalist life I led was the question.
“Because you’re worth it.” She said.
“Why me?” I asked.
“Why not? Don’t you write, don’t you dream, didn’t you ask for inspiration?” she replied.
“Well, yes.” I tried to think of something to say that wouldn’t just circle back again.
She uncrossed her legs and leaned back on her arms. While she sat in the shade, I could still see how gossamer didn’t cover much.
“Of course, that’s what you think goddesses dress like, so I’m not here to disappoint.” she said.
“A little sexy to keep my attention, or to keep me distracted?” I asked.
“To fire your inspiration.” One bare foot was tracing the oval pattern of the hooked rug on the floor. Her light skin contrasted with the dark brown and burnt umber threads in it. “How you interpret my looks is up to you. If you wrote horror, I might have come as an old hag in your nightmares. Or Macbeth’s witches.” She looked up from the pattern her foot was making. Her eyes peering into my eyes without blinking.
“You have a truth in you. I just came to remind you to trust yourself and write.” she said.
“Write what?” I asked.
“Write everything, anything.” Her foot stopped moving. She crossed her legs and sat up to lean across them with her elbows. “Look. You have a great deal of stories waiting. They asked me to come here and tell you to get to work. They know their lives depend on you. If you don’t write, they can’t come through.” Her eyes seemed to burn like blue coals. They made her light skin and auburn hair glow with their own intensity.
“I have been writing.” I replied.
“You’ve been diddling around. What you’ve produced is squat compared to what you could be doing. Look, you’re leaving things sitting around and then say that you’ve got some ‘writer’s block’ or something. That’s just an excuse. Writers write. So, write!” With that she rose from the bed in a fluid move and came toward the ladder-back chair I was sitting in.
This close, her thin shift showed just how little it did cover. Her scent was like evergreens and lilac in bloom. But her eyes had my complete attention. Despite my wanting to look at the rest of her.
Her hands went on my shoulders. I stood stock-still and took it all in. A goddess talking to me, touching me. My heart was racing while I struggled to keep my breath at a normal ebb and flow. I didn’t know whether I should be scared, but my body was certainly excited.
“And that’s the point, isn’t it?” she smiled, and the corners of her eyes wrinkled slightly. “You don’t know if I’m here to seduce you or to empower you. Believe me, it could go either way. Because I showed up the way you wanted me to. This form is your idea. I took it so you’d pay attention. If you had been a girl, this might have been a hunk with six-pack abs and sculpted pecs, bare to the waist and a flowing mane of hair. Maybe a slight stubble.” She looked off into space and sighed at that.
Then her eyes focused on me again. “This appearance is a last resort, of sorts. You simply haven’t been listening. So I came.”
Her eyes still peered into mine, unblinking. Moments passed. I finally looked away to the side, out of respectl. (If I looked anywhere else, I might see something I shouldn’t. Even the thought made me begin to blush.)
At that, she turned and sat on my lap, an arm around my neck and her face even closer. Her other hand grabbed my chin with a slender thumb and index finger, the touch light, but firm. She turned my head to face hers, just inches away. Then both arms crossed loose around my neck. “Do you think all this is an accident, still? Look, I’m your goddess. We can do whatever you want.”
One of my arms went around her waist, crossing her back. The other went lightly across her lap, to keep my balance and hers. Like a close girlfriend.
“Because, you already have an intimate relation with me, don’t you know? I’ve been showing up in your dreams for a long time, and whispering at you from the trees. Even leaving voices through the fan you run in the summer, and the heater in the winter.” Her breath was spice and mint.
“That was you? I…” Words failed me.
“Yes, and others. We are there to inspire your tales, to give you ideas. We are everywhere, at all times. We are the trees, the rocks, the wild animals, the neighbors livestock, the clouds, the sky, the rain, snow, and dust. We are Story.” she said.
Pausing for emphasis, she took an arm away, then lightly touched my nose with one finger. “You have to start doing something with all these hints.” Then she kissed me on my nose and shimmered into thin air again.
A whisper in my ear sounded, “Remember, we are always here and will show up as you want. You only have to believe.” And then a light breeze stroked my face although the windows and doors were shut.
I had my orders. She was the most pleasant drill sergeant I’d never met.
So I turned my chair around, opened my laptop, created a blank text document full-screen, and began typing.
You want to see a goddess? First, believe. Then, write.
This is the first of two Bonus Stories from “Death by Advertising.”
Title story starts here.
If you can’t wait, or want your own copy, visit https://calm.li/DeathByAdvertising
Second bonus story coming up…