Capricious Me

Shadows dance to and fro in the semidarkness of the tent. One candle’s frail light flickers uncertainly, illuminating objects here and there. he moved silently, swiftly, mentally cursing the bright night sky. Ah well, a challenge makes it so exciting, he thought, sinking the jeweled dagger through the throat. All he heard was soft gurgling when his victim awoke in horror and flailed helplessly as the life ebbed out slowly, painfully. And then the heart, because it looked pretty, and he did have a dramatic flair. Nice sharp blade. So smooth and pointed it made no noise. No noise at all.

When we got our wings, we flew to the eternal blue heavens. We floated above trees, diving, chasing birds. We flew through clouds, playing hide and seek in the dazzling white fog. We emerged wet and lounged inches above them, as if we lay on these white puffs like emperors after a feast. We bathed in the sun’s warm rays. We cooled by flying higher, and ad ice ball fights with the clouds higher up. We flew back down again and rearranged the soft wispy clouds into shapes to delight those glancing up, as we’d once been delighted.

We were free. We felt, nay, we knew, nothing could disrupt our bliss. We flew in formation, delighting in the rain, dancing on air, catching the droplets in our mouths. When rain stopped falling we thanked the sun for creating such beauty. We delighted inthe shining, sparkling water drops still on us. We shoot them off and laughed to see a thousand bright jewels falling down. We chased the rainbow, and slid down seven at a time, tumbling into water, earth, rock.

We were free. Dreamers. And happy.

The first time we spotted the clouds, we welcomed the rain it would bring. But days came and went and they stayed in the beautiful blue sky while the land grew dryer and we died slowly of thirst. But we hoped. We kept hoping, even as the earth turned a lovely yellow and brown and fire had to be watched carefully lest it spread too quickly.

The day the clouds went, hope and half of us died. Those of us who survived managed, somehow, to cling stubbornly to life. We dug wells until the ground was riddled with gaping holes. Dangerous holes.

The second time we spotted the clouds, we scoffed and loudly proclaimed it to be some god’s idea of a fun joke. But we looked when we thought no one else was looking, for a sign that rain would come. We dared to hope, secretly, that water would pour from the heavens to sooth our parched lives.

The day the clouds went, we shrugged and tried to continue living. Those who hoped more than others lost their will to live. Half of us perished. Those of us who survived knew the end was close.

The third time we spotted the clouds, we cursed the sky for teasing us so mercilessly. But secretly, we still hoped, even as we dried up. Even while we lay dying we stole glances at the sky. In our last seconds of conciousness, we thought in our delirium we could hear thunder. We thought we saw flashes in the dark gloomy skies. We thought we felt the cool wet rain falling on us. Filling our wells. Giving us a chance at life when it was too late. We thought we heard laughter.

The day the clouds went, no one was there to see them go.

“So you want to do it?”

“Yes. Without a doubt. Just take me there and I’ll go through with it.”

“No backing out this time? I don’t want to waste my time, and gasoline prices these days are so ridiculous.”

“No backing out. Promise. Scout’s honor,” he held up his hand and tried to mimic the boy scouts’ signal.

I laughed involuntarily, “Liar. You’ve never been in the boy scouts. Well, come on then.”

“I would have joined, but my mum didn’t like the idea. So you know a good spot?”

“Oh yes. I’ve taken quite a few people there. It’s gorgeous. So much better than the spot last time.”

“I would have done it last time, only it just wasn’t pretty enough.”

“I’m sure you would have,” I tried to sooth his agitation, but thought to myself, “No you wouldn’t have.”

“Are we there yet?”

“Just a minute… alright. We’re here. Isn’t it gorgeous?”

I didn’t need to hear his reply to know that it was. The cliff overlooked the ocean. For as far as you could see, the turbulent stretch of shimmery blue continued. The sound of waves breaking against the base of the cliff made him jump every time. He hesitantly stepped to the edge while I sat on the hood the car, camera in hand. He looked nervous then. And I knew what he would say next. But this time, I decided, I wouldn’t let him break his promise.

“Look… I’m really sorry to do this again, but I can’t do this. I’ve decided that life is too precious to toss away for art,” he stammered, backing from the edge of the cliff.

“I haven’t,” I replied, with a tone more playful than menacing, stepping forward and shoving. I saw his look of surprise, hurt, and then terror as he hurtled through the air, limbs flailing helplessly, mouth gaping in a terrified shriek drowned out by the force of the water hitting the cliff. Leaning over the edge, I saw the beautifully random patterns his brains and blood made against the rocky bottom. “Modern art. Eat your heart out, Jackson Pollock,” I thought, snapping a photo before the water washed away my work.

As soon as he became human it was apparent he must escape. Immediately. Oh sure, the stories said Happily Ever After, but really, what is Happily Ever After except propaganda to make the readers forget that life went on after the supposed ending?

The princess who stood gawking at him wasn’t much of a prize. Sure, she was beautiful, but did that make up for the gaping holes in her education? Really, what self respecting princess played with a golden ball and bargained with a frog – and then tried to break the bargain, for the sake of a toy she could easily have replaced? And at her age, wouldn’t her time be better spent studying or preparing to run the bloody kingdom?

Her parents were clearly somewhat deranged as well. Honor or no honor, what father would force his daughter to tend to a frog, especially a talking one, without so much as a double take. Talking amphibians weren’t exactly commonplace. They’d clearly taught their spoiled daughter nothing of tact or table manners. Why, she repeatedly reached for the dish of frog, throwing him a glare now and then. And who would serve frog in front of frog? It was rude! If one was to be accepted as a guest at the table, one should not be subjected to possible cannibalism.

She protested and cried so bitterly against having to take him to her bed, and once there, had thrown him against the wall. Clearly, she needed to learn a few lessons about why it was wrong to treat animals so cruelly. Luckily for him, he’d regained his human body before he hit the wall, but even so, it smarted a bit. And now she stood staring. Granted, he was naked, but shouldn’t she have the decency to turn away, or at least blush a bit?

“If you don’t mind,” he mustered as much dignity as possible, wrapping a pink (a bright PINK monstrosity) silk sheet about himself, “I should like to speak to your father about returning to my kingdom.”

She still stared, dumb as a post.

“Erm. Your highness? Returning to my kingdom is a matter of national security. If I don’t return my father will start a few wars. He’s been looking for an excuse for ages, and now that his heir’s gone missing he’s surely started the planning already.”

“But… aren’t you going to propose?” She finally stammered.

An involuntary shudder escaped him, “PROPOSE?” he nearly shouted, “ahem. Why on earth would I propose? The terms of our agreement were that I’d return to the palace, eat with you, and sleep in your bed. I never mentioned a proposal.”

“But the last few frogs always proposed to me!” she whined.

“Yes, well, this former frog is not like other frogs. This former frog doesn’t really fancy women,” he turned red as he realized what’d he’d said upon seeing her startled reaction, “er. What I mean is, I’m not ready for a commitment yet. I’d much rather go hunting with my friends for a few more years without a woman back at home to nag me.”

“I wouldn’t nag,” she pouted, “and I don’t mind if you hunt.”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t, but my life’s been complicated recently. And, so I’m not exactly ready to jump into a relationship just yet.”

“Oooh,” she seethed, “Men! You’re all the same! Bunch of bloody commitment phobic fuckwits.”

He raised an eyebrow at her language and decided tarnishing his character was much better than marriage to this idiot, “Well the truth is, I don’t really like women. Never have. My friends are the same way. If I were to get married, or even engaged, I’d never hear the end of it. Besides, I’m sure you’ll meet the right man… or frog, someday.”

She seemed appeased by that, “Hmm, I do seem to run into these enchanted frogs quite a lot. Well, I suppose when you put it like that it’s really not that bad. I’ll go talk to daddy right now and get you some clothes so you can go back home.”

When the first campus-wide war started, only one or two observant souls had an inkling of what was going on. The rest of the students never even noticed. Their loss, as their mundane lives could no doubt have used some diversion from the classes and tests they were always whining about.

It all started over a dispute regarding ownership of an acorn. Before readers scoff, they should remember that a great many wars have started over less significant things. Indeed, some of the most brutal wars were fought over intangible things, like religion. In this respect, all creatures agree that humans are somewhat foolish in their choice of reasons for fighting. In any case, this war started over an acorn. It would have started sooner or later over something just as commonplace, so the acorn was as good an excuse as any. By the end of the first day, a young inexperienced chipmunk lay dead.

In the debacle against squirrels, chipmunks have two distinct advantages: speed and intelligence. Even so, the squirrels on Wellesley Campus had a few hidden trump cards. They all had a compulsive habit of gnawing on the paint chips of Pendleton. These were lead paint chips, mind you, which was like crack for squirrels, as it made them unnaturally daring and jittery. Squirrels know instinctively that in groups, no matter how intelligent the foe is, he’s a dead rodent. It was this unfair strategy that allowed them to corner and subsequently kill that young chipmunk, who was darting out for what he thought would be quick scavenge in the bushes near Severance Green. That fatal mistake nearly exposed the Chipmunk-Squirrel war, as the squirrel assigned to dispose of the body, a dumb brute nicknamed Bushy, waited until nearly dawn to do so, and several students walking back from a late night in the mini focus saw the strange sight. Needless to say, both sides employed highly efficient teams to dispose of corpses after that.

The war lasted for maybe a week at most, which was monumental in rodent history. The longest war before had only been three days. It was bitter victory for the chipmunks, who proved that brain could triumph over brawn. The resulting truce limited squirrels from gathering in large numbers in every place except the hill adjacent to Jewett near the path leading to the library. Chipmunks had a carte blanche around campus, and all squirrels were forced to yield to them a reasonable percentage of all acorns gathered. Chipmunks being neither vindictive nor greedy, the terms they insisted on were reasonable enough to ensure peace for quite a few generations. In the mean time, both species, admittedly lead by chipmunks, embarked on a campaign to put humans in their place. Rodents being rodents, they still felt the need to terrorize mutual enemies. Chipmunks, for all their brains, didn’t possess the demonic thuggish look that came so naturally to squirrels. In this strategic location, both parties were suffienctly pleased with the results. Squirrels had enough acorns there to survive and they managed to derive some sick pleasure from staring in a truly maniacal way en masse at passerbys.

Once upon a time, when mythical creatures weren’t mythical, a unicorn and lion lived together in what biologists would call a mutualistic relationship. The other members of their species shook their heads with disapproval from afar.

“Lions! What self respecting unicorn lives in peace with a lion without trying to gut him with their horn??”

“Unicorns! What self respecting lion lives in peace with a unicorn without trying to gut him with their claws??”

They were old. When you’re old, you don’t really want to pick fights with whoever’s near you. When you’re old, you’re jaded and tired of getting physical when the same situation’s going to arise in the near future with 100% probability. So, truth be told, these two couldn’t stand each other. But they were Machiavellian creatures who subscribed to the “survival when those humans were multiplying at an alarming rate couldn’t happen if the enemy of my enemy is still my enemy who I must waste good energy and time on to vanquish while the human reaps the benefit by killing me too is really rather stupid when you sit down and think about it” school of thought. Of course, the unicorn liked to think he was a bit superior, and the lion just the same, so their days weren’t exactly as peaceful as the sensationalists made it out to be.

“If it wasn’t for my good sense, you’d be lured out w/a big slab of meat. Don’t understand you carnivores. I’ve never seen the appeal in a hunk of bloody flesh probably contaminated or dirty by the time you kill your prey. Grass never does one harm.”

“But meat’s so juicy and chewy!! And it’s high in protein, so I hear. And it moves, it does, before ya bring it down. I don’t understand ya vegetarians. What’s the appeal in food that don’t move? ‘Oooh this grass was sooo hard to bring down. Nearly kicked me eye out!’ Half the hunger’s from the bloody fight! And what proteins do ya get from grass? None! And you… don’t think I don’t know what yer weakness is. Virgins! Ya pervy lech! If it weren’t for me eating half the ones they send, you’d be long gone!”

“I could skewer you in a minute and disembowel you if I wanted to. I’ve done my share in my youthful days.”

“And how d’you plan on skewering me if yer horn’s stuck in a bloody tree trunk? Once ya charge, ya don’t stop, ya dumb brute!”

“Why, I’ll have you know that I never fell for the petty tricks of your kind. Really, can’t you find a more dignified way to fight back? Fight like a beast, not a human!”

“Ha! It’s that kind of thinking that gets ya killed, it does. Besides, I don’t hear ya complaining about my dishonourable ways when I’m luring the hunters out for ya.”

“Yes, well, that’s a matter of life and death.”

“Oooh, and being skewered or feasting on unicorn fer dinner isn’t? By the way, yer kind does have the tastiest flesh, ya know.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”