Tag: Family Traditions

  • Wedding Breakfast

    The morning after the wedding, Asa stands at the center of a circle of his kin. Overhead, a startled shout sounds from the bridal suite. It is followed by an audible scuffle and the gathered family laughs. Asa’s uncles are pulling Matthias from his wedding bed.

    Gavin and Griswald, both in their forties and strongest of the Stonehaven uncles, drag the naked and hollering new bridegroom down the inn stairs. His butt smacks each step on the way down. Asa winces for his friend. The chuckling circle of Stonehavens parts to allow the trio into the center and closes behind them. As they reach him, the uncles force Matthias to his knees before Asa.

    The young bridegroom breathes hard, his face red with rage. Asa smirks at Matthias’ tan. The swarthy and muscly farm boy is milk white and scrawny from the waist down. Matthias glares up at Asa, but goes quiet as he notices his friend’s clothes. The anger in his face gives way to fear.

    Asa looms above him, wielding a black, iron sickle. Matthias had always teased Asa about his figure—an overlarge head of shaggy, flaxen hair atop a rail thin body. Broom handle, he’d said. Stickbug. Now, Asa looks predatory. A mantis, clad in the blood red robes of The Witch.

    Gavin and Griswald release Matthias’ shoulders and he slumps from his knees to his buttocks on the cold, stone floor. Griswald, the man’s new father-in-law, ruffs Matthias’ hair before retreating to the general circle of Stonehavens. (more…)

  • The Unbrella

    Emaline looked out at her village and the noticeably dimmed glowstones lighting the streets of their large cavern. The crops had been reaped and it would be another thirty sleeps worth of guided rest and reflection with the Elders before they could sew the next crop.

    Oh how I hate the Yule season. Nothing to do other than watch other people go off on their rites of passage. Her rite wouldn’t be for another two harvests thanks to a promise she had made to her father. He had insisted that she take Kenan with her, and it had seemed like a small thing to promise at the time.

    She watched the procession as the elders guided the two boys to the edge of town and gave them blessings from the gods of travel, speed, and luck. I would have been perfectly safe if I had gone with those boys.

    “Emaline?” Kenan, the object of her irritation, called from the base of her tree.

    “What?”

    “Sheena wants you to come home.” His timid reply echoed up through the branches. “She made nectar seeds.” (more…)

  • Luck and Whiskey

    “Rub the tip for good luck,” Granny said, gesturing to the squat statue perched on the stone table by the front entrance.

    “I know, Granny,” I reached out and rubbed my hand over the well polished tip as I had ever since my first visit to her house back when my father had to lift me by the armpits so that I could reach.

    She watched me with a critical eye, finally stepping aside to let me into the house after she determined I had rubbed off enough luck. “Tea or whiskey?”

    “Whiskey,” I said immediately, “one rock.” I was twelve the first time she asked and had hesitantly responded with tea. I only made that mistake once. (more…)

  • Accidental Kaiju

    Grendela climbed the volcano in the early morning light of her 13th birthday. Thirteen was a magic age. At 13 she would become a fully-fledged kaiju. Grendela: Destroyer of Cities. It was supposed to be a great honor in her family. They had a nice little village all picked out for her to smash into the ground this morning. There would be a ceremony while the villagers fled for their lives. Her grandmother had probably made a cake. It was probably cooling right now, waiting to be frosted.

    She wasn’t going to destroy any villages today, though. Let them eat her cake without her; she didn’t care. Her whole family were kaiju, dating back to the old days of the legendary monsters. But Grendela didn’t want to be a kaiju.

    She wanted to be an environmental scientist. (more…)