The Oracle Trilogy Book One Ohm's Node

Not a Bedtime Story

part 2 

chapter 23   

Standing far enough away from the fire to be comfortable, just like the porridge, Somer smiled out at her audience. Any flying embers from the crackling fire hit a metal screen. Last week's word from her writing v-mentor was tableau. It had taken time to figure it out and work it into her way of thinking. She now saw it around her. It was like the Norman Rockwell painting in the old kitchen, almost. It was a mix of flannel and jeans, clothes from the wearer's country and hippy clothing that stood, sat and leaned against the bookcase all sipping something waiting for her to start. Trek was drunk or acted drunk, making faces at her behind the ottoman where Grampus sat, with Moon sitting yogi style in front of him on the hooked rug with a glow. The lights had been turned down and Naomi had put cinnamon/apple crush in the diffuser. Both hands held the hot chocolate in her exceptionally large Moose mug. Tracy who had kissed her stood directly below the shelf that held all the leather-bound historical books next to a beautiful older boy or young adult. His face was radiant.

She could have gotten lost in that tableau, sensual overload for sure but it was her moment, her show, so she had to concentrate. Taking a deep breath, she began.

'Well, you're spared my horror story. That's the good news because LUNA found someone who has said it better because it pictures for you, more of the problem. I just want to say that there are thousands of stories in every caravan. This one that has a lot of what I've been thinking about. Her name is Maya and comes from Ecuador which has an average temperature of one hundred and five. She was a teacher there and is traveling with her daughters.

A woman appeared next to her with a faded shawl wrapped around her, wearing baggy torn pants and bare feet. There were a few gasps and murmuring between the resident dinner guests of the Pod. Somer saw Naomi look at Tad and Grampus smiled. She felt anticipation and curiosity swirling around the tableau.

'Hello, it is an honor to be called here today so suddenly and wish to convey great thanks and gratitude. I hardly am prepared and lost the written copy but have told it to others so am mostly confident. Miss LUNA is translating this and wish to thank her as well. This is a story created by my family of daughters and one adopted along the way so reflects all of our thoughts and feelings. Thank you. I have left the caravan and am with protection. Okay, here goes.'

'The Apocalypse jokes had all but run dry like the dusty dull brown landscape we moved through. We had stopped the horror stories while huddled in a protective circle of the elders at night, stopped the whispered rumors of what happened to children who got turned around in the sandstorms giving ourselves nightmares. We knew the conditions were dire, that any hope we had of something better than what lay behind, was fantasy and that if we moved closer to a place called the Texas Waterland Project, hope was still a meaningful concept.

An almost full moon had just slipped out from the clouds that had formed a gloomy ceiling all day full of sudden wind gusts and dust devils, slowing the usual crawl to stopping to cover our eyes.

The oldest, Esperanza, feeling the weight of her role as responsible big sister, downplayed the gossip and relieved the tension by flipping horror on its butt and wondered how eyeballs tasted

'Hazelnut', the youngest immediately answered.

'And tongue?'

'Shoe leather.'

The two other sisters, buried beneath the blankets they carried, were giggling in unison.

'Toes?', from one and 'ass', from the other.

Later that night after finding modest shelter near a steep ridge and near our protection. Sparks from the nearby family fire winked on and off like fireflies. We walked next to them for their fire since the oldest boy's job was to collect enough burnable stuff to be so blessed with a small fire whenever possible. There were good days when enough old, dried wood would keep the fire burning into the next day and others lucky enough to find only some pitch bramble and paper trash. Not much to eat but the power bars dropped by the UN. A new rumor had it that they would be approaching some form of a food outlet soon where each person would be accounted for and given a month's supply of rations. That, we knew was what some called aspirational or an intention that could be true if wished for hard enough.