Author's note: I think of "Nameday" as my first published work of fiction.
After I finished grad school in 1995, I spent several months writing literary fiction and trying to get my stories published. But I couldn't sell anything, and eventually I shelved my dream of being published.
Life happened. I got divorced, moved a few times, and changed professions. In 2000 or so, I discovered Kevin's Watch, a website for fans of fantasy author Stephen R. Donaldson, and I ended up making a bunch of friends through site's message board (kevinswatch.ihugny.com).
In 2005-06, a group of us decided to produce an anthology of our own work -- not fanfiction, but original stories and poetry. I wrote "Nameday" for that anthology. It was my first attempt at fantasy in many years, and I was a little surprised by how right it felt to be working in the genre again. We produced two subsequent anthologies, and I wrote stories for each of them, both of which have been published by Calderwood Books. "Nameday," however, has been languishing in my virtual drawer until now.
I just checked at Lulu. Our anthologies are no longer available, apparently, which is sad. We have some very talented people at the Watch. Maybe we need to do a new anthology.
Anyway, here you go. I hope you like it.
***
We had been waiting in the cold for more than an hour to get a glimpse of the Nameless One, but Candace assured us it would be worth it. Candace is the one who put us on to the whole thing; she’d seen an ad for the event in the local holistic health paper, which she had picked up at her last self-actualization seminar. She rushed to register the three of us: herself, because she was sure an audience with the Nameless One would be the culmination of her journey of self-discovery; me, because she was sure I would be intrigued; and Brad, because, she said, he needed it.
Brad wasn’t all that thrilled about coming – the only self-actualization he was ever interested in involved the number of beer cans he could empty into himself of an evening – but he came anyway, to make Candace happy. I’d always thought that Brad had a thing for Candace, not that he would have admitted it to anybody, least of all himself. Maybe somewhere deep in his subconscious, he believed that if he could hook up with her, she could do all of his self-actualization work for him, saving him the trouble.
And why was I here? Well, Candace was right. I was intrigued. Wouldn’t the idea of meeting someone who was raised by wolves, or whatever, intrigue anybody?
“So what’s up with the Nameless bit?” Brad asked.
“She never received a name,” Candace told him. “It’s a cultural thing.”
“That explains why Brad doesn’t know about it,” I said. Brad pulled a dopey face while Candace and I grinned.
“No, really,” Candace continued. “It has something to do with the culture she was born into. They don’t name their kids at birth; the village elders name them at a ceremony later. For some reason, she never had a ceremony.”
“Why didn’t she just name herself, then?” Brad asked, stamping his feet to ward off the chill. “Seems easy enough.”
“Maybe there was a prophecy,” I said ominously.
“I’m sure the Nameless One will explain it,” Candace said.
“If we ever get in to see her,” Brad said, huffing his breath into his bare hands. “Boy, it’s cold out here.”
Someone from the Self-Actualization Institute came down the line with a tray full of paper cups of hot tea. We accepted ours gratefully. “What’s the holdup?” I asked as I took my cup.
