Writing Prompt: Exoplanet 2

 Writing Prompts:


     1. The first rule about...

     2. "I don't want to talk about it."

     3. She was known for her...

     4. You can't have your way all the time.

     We were put to sleep for 10 years of the journey. Kepler-425b was one of the closest exoplanets in the Milky Way Galaxy. We were experimenting with some alien hyper drive technology that was found on Gliese 581g buried underground, a secret that the Chinese and Russians were trying to figure out. Since we had such people on board the Rubicon was exempt from getting such modifications. After a decade of sleeping in space we were awoken. After that it would take us a year to complete our journey to Kepler.

The first rule about surviving a trip to another planet with your estranged mother is to keep contact at a minimum. Only contact each other when you really have to. Being that I was the crew's head zoologist and Elena the captain of a military squadron we didn't have to interact much. The only thing unavoidable were the meal times. 

Elena's Lieutenant, Yuri who made the snide remarks about the Rubicon was the most annoying out of all the Russians and Chinese put together. He was a bit young to be a lieutenant. He was about 33. I was only 29. He was lean with a cleft chin and pale blue eyes. Those sharp eyes would follow me around, leering at me until Elena appeared then he would cast them down quickly. I had to admit I enjoyed that part. She was known for her low tolerance. Elena was one of the few women that led her own unit. I would hear some of the soldiers on both sides of the ship say that maybe my mother wasn't really a woman but had a set of balls and a large dick hiding in there somewhere. 
 
 I was in my lab checking on the vitals of the animals that we had brought from Earth. Mostly livestock such as sheep, cows, and a few horses. We wanted to see how they adapted on Kepler. Other specimans were plant life that were from the planet itself. I heard someone come in and thought it was Reyes, my assistant, but instead of a petite Latina I was greeted with a rough voice in my ear, "Hello."
 
  Yuri's breath smelled like vodka. I jumped back a good distance. He had no concept of personal space. He might as well have stuck his tongue in my ear canal. 
  
  "What the hell?" I fumed. "Don't sneak up on people!"
  
  "So sorry," he smiled pretending to be apologetic which only made me even more angry. 
  
  "The rules are you're to be accompanied by an NC soldier at all times when wandering the Rubicon," I reminded him. I went back to my notes. 
  
  "But I am with you so it counts doesn't it?"
  
  "I'm not a soldier," I glared. 
  
  "Good I don't like soldiers," Yuri leaned on the table beside me. He took out an apple and presented it to me as some peace offering.
  
  "I did not see you in mess hall so..."
  
  "No thank you, not hungry," I didn't even bother to look at him. Yuri shrugged and took a bite of the apple. "And you're not allowed to have food in here. You might contaminate a sample."
  
  "You mean these plants?" Yuri pointed his slim finger at the purple flower growing inside its small bio-dome that created it's own unique environment. "Very beautiful," he marveled. I suddenly noticed the back of Yuri's neck which was rigid. Density bone implants most like. Different levels of gravity effects the body in many ways. Many cosmonauts had implants put in so that they could live longer in space on their space stations. Yuri caught me looking and smiled.
  
  "Gruesome, huh?" he grinned and pulled off his shirt so that I could see his whole rigid spine. "It hurt for a few months on Artemis but it went away after a while as my body adjusted to gravity."
  
  "How old were you?"
  
  "15."
  
  "And your parents let them open you up and put parts in you?" I cried incredulously.
  
  "I wanted to," Yuri explained plainly. "I was serving my country."
  
  "Pfff," I miffed. "That's exactly the kind of Iron Soviet Sheep mentality that I'm glad I never got. What kind of monster would let someone experiment on their child? You know that half of those trials were a failure and many kids died or worse were left crippled for the rest of their lives..."
  
  Yuri didn't frown or say anything. He just let me continue while he watched me intently. Until I stopped and asked, "Why are you looking at me like that?"
  
  "You are cute when you are angry," Yuri smiled. He moved a piece of my blond hair away to reveal my neck and came a bit too close for comfort as if trying to kiss me. I swatted his hand away then pushed him.
  
  "Get away from me you pervert!" my face flushed and turned hot. How dare he compare me to that woman! I turned in a huff not caring that I broke protocol. 

*     *     *     *

  "I don't want to talk about it," I steamed as Daniel watched me his arms crossed his face pensive.

   
   "You need to report him," he scolded me.
   
   "He wouldn't be the first soldier to hit on me," I reminded him. Daniel failed to see the humor in that. 
   
   "Anything could have happened to you. He could have-- You know our rule. What's our rule?" Daniel cried.
   
    Daniel and I had a rule when we first came to Kepler-425b. We weren't dating at the time only flirting though I didn't see that for him it meant more. 
    
    "We're a team," I sighed. "Never go in alone. Ever."
    
    Daniel kissed me tenderly on the lips. 
    
    "I'm still going to beat the shit out of him," he promised.
    
    "Though starting a war for me is very sweet I don't think it'll be best for the NC," I admired. 
    
    "He could have an accident," Daniel winked. "People fall out of air locks all the time." I laughed out loud.
    
     "Please don't," I begged softly. "I was hoping to avoid the woman altogether this trip and on Kepler but," I wrapped my arms around Daniel's neck, "it's better than you getting court marshaled for me." 

*     *     *     *

    You can't have your way all the time. I wanted to avoid my mother altogether but I had to talk to her about Yuri. His stalking was getting annoying and I was really afraid Daniel was going to throw him out an air lock. The door slid open for me as I pressed my hand on the panel. Only NC approved Rubicon staff could access the panels making the tension between the factions even more taut. 

  
   Elena was sitting on her bed reading a newspaper. The Soviet Alliance was the only place one could get a real newspaper. Everyone else preferred news feeds from screens on buildings or on their tablets. She didn't even look up when she said, "Good evening, Ana."
   
   "It's Anna not Ana," I sighed. "There's an extra 'n'." Elena shrugged. Already we were off to a bad start. 
   
   "Captain Petrov--"
   
   "'Captain'? You won't even call me Mama anymore," she almost sounded wounded.
   
   "You need to control your men, Captain," I continued.
   
   "What's happened?" Elena kept scanning the news paper but I could tell that she wasn't really reading it. She must have read it all before I got here and now she was just doing her usual passive aggressive techniques to annoy me. 
   
   "Your man, Yuri, has been making inappropriate advances towards me."
   
   Finally Elena put her paper down and sat up looking at me directly.
   
   "What did he do?" she asked. 
   
   "He just... got too close that's all," I explained calmly. "He tried to kiss me. I was in the lab and he surprised me."
   
   "I shall speak to him then," Elena promised. 
   
   That wasn't as bad as I thought.
   
   "Um thanks," I got up and was going to leave but for some reason I had to ask. Elena smiled. One of those rare moments where one can catch her having an emotion. 
   
   "You're my daughter," she said. "You stand by family." That statement had me wondering though.
   
   "How many of your men have bone implants?" I asked.
   
   "All of them."
   
   Then something within me also had to ask, "If we were living in Russia when I was growing up would you have made me go through with the implants?"
   
    Elena stared at me for a moment then gave a frank "Yes."
    
   "Really?" I asked. "You would have let them cut me open and stick foreign objects in me?"
   
   "Why are you asking this?"
   
   "Yuri told me that his parents made him under go the procedure even though it was extremely risky and he may not have even survived the ordeal." 
   
   "You would have served your country," Elena said unapologetically. "All countries make sacrifices, Ana. We must not get left behind as the Northern Coalition would have us do."
   
   I was exasperated by my mother's lack of empathy.
   
   "Do you know how insane that sounds?" I marveled. "You would murder an entire generation just to get ahead."
   
   "The Northern Coalition would have gladly done the same," Elena stood up, nostrils beginning to flare a bit, "They took you from me and didn't seem remorseful about it." I stood firm.
   
   "You were a spy who was planning on fleeing the country and taking me with you without giving any thought on how I felt," I argued. 
   
   "I wasn't going to leave without my daughter," Elena countered. "That's what mothers do for their children they protect them."
   
   "I was dad's daughter too!" I cried. "And he was protecting me from you which I'm glad he did. I'm glad he found us before you could kidnap me and force me to do other crazy bull shit for the good of country that expected loyalty from me just because I had a mother so brain washed that she would allow her child to be butchered for some greater good of a nation."
   
    So came the root of our problems. My father caught my mother before it was too late. She was deported and my father was granted full custody of me. I was born in the NC and was a citizen. I never forgave her for trying to split up our family. For trying to turn me into an obedient soldier like her. I was nothing like her. 
    
    "That's all I am to you, Elena," I finished. "I'm an asset." Elena didn't say anything. Frankly I didn't give a shit what her excuse was going to be. I just had to get out of there.   

*     *     *     *

   

Writing Prompt: Wicked Martyrs

Writing Prompt:

      You sold your soul to the Devil. Years later he returns and says he needs a favor.

     My name is Isobel Cassidy. This is my story. It's not a happy one but it is an interesting tale. You know those stories your priest or rabi told you about how the Devil tempts you to test you? I'm pretty sure I failed but then again if you were the one, a kid, dying before you even had the chance to really live and someone offered you a way out, to run and breathe on your own without the help of machines or medications slowing you down making you foggy, would you say no? 

I was 12. But looking at me then I looked more like an alien from the Roswell conspiracy than a 12 year old girl. No hair. Scars from countless surgeries all over my head, tubes coming out of me. It was after my 10th surgery. Doctors were amazed I held on this long. But as hard as it was on me I could only imagine what my dad was going through. A single dad. A cop. He caught bad guys for a living but here was one bad guy who couldn't shoot. I caught him weeping once when he thought I was asleep. I didn't have much time. 
 
 "We can make her comfortable...," the doctor said. I counted the spotted water stained tiles above my head for the thousandth time. I would sometimes play tick tack toe in my head on those ugly tiles. Other times I would match the water stains to make a complete picture. That night when my dad went to get coffee someone entered my room. I thought it was just another doctor but he was different. 
 
 "Hello, Isobel," he said in a low yet honey voice.
 
 The picture all Catholic girls grow up with of the Devil is one with horns, goat legs, bat wings, and a mouth full of teeth and he's devouring a bunch of guys in an attempt to satiate his endless hunger for human flesh. Some pictures even showed blood pouring out his mouth as he crunched the bodies in his giant jaws. But this Devil looked as ordinary as any adult man... just with strange vibes.
 
 "Who are you?" I asked. 
 
 "Someone who can help you, Isobel," he said with a wicked glint in his eye and impish grin.
 
 "Are you the Angel of Death?"
 
 A chuckle rose deep from within his throat causing my weak heart to skip two beats. 
 
 "An angel...," he leaned back and mused, "Not many people call me that anymore. No but I would like to be your salvation..."
 
 "How can you possibly help me?" I rolled my eyes. 
 
 "Well..."
 
 And that was when a deal was struck. Thinking back sometimes I wondered maybe I should have said no. Would I have said no?... Probably not...

*     *     *     *

       Art was one of my favorite subjects. Any kind of art: paintings, sculptures, antiquities. Mostly I dealt with antiquities. On March 15, 2016 New York's History Museum was featuring a Vatican collection of sacred artifacts. One in particular that I was interested in was a finger bone belonging to St. Mary of Egypt. Why? Because she was the patron saint you wanted when you needed deliverance from demons...
 
 I had scouted the place for 2 weeks. Martin my sweet tech nerd hooked me up with things I would need to bypass security. He was 15 but already a genius shut in. Number 14 on the FBI's most wanted list. Not bad. Best thief trading in ancient artifacts in the world. Like a cat I manuervered my way into the building using Martin's portable EMP device. No one would ever suspect my watch was a lethal weapon. 
 
 The security guards made their rounds. I waited 6 minutes until they were out of sight of the room filled with saintly relics. The finger bone stood on a pedestal like a crowned jewel, a spotlight on it to show that it was no ordinary piece of a corpse. I could feel the energy pulsing from it as I got closer. I pressed the button on my watch. The pressure sensors would be out for only 2 minutes. I gingerly lifted the glass separating me from my prize. I took out the eye glass case inlayed with velvet to safely transport the finger. Interesting how a woman's shriveled finger has gained so much attention while I heard Napoleon's penis lay in storage for years in a Parisian museum until some American lawyer bought it for private viewing. People are odd. 
 
 Just as I placed the finger inside the case and placed the glass case back in place an alarm went off. I couldn't understand. Surely it couldn't have been 2 minutes already? On instinct I started running for my exit just as the security guards called after me. I ran into my entrance, a storage closet with a side panel. The vents were human sized though a pain in the ass to manuever around in. Still I muddled through. I popped open the door to my escape in an alley way. Unfortunately a security guard was there. As soon as I landed on my feet I heard a man say, "FREEZE!" 
 
 Obediently I held my hands up.
 

 "Turn around slowly," the guard ordered. I thought about it for a second and decided it was better to run. They only gave guards tazors. But I was only 3 feet away when I heard a bang and felt a ball of hot lead hit me in the shoulder. When the hell did museum security get guns? Still I kept running without slowing down to the astonishment of the security guard.

*     *     *     *

      You're probably wondering how I escaped with a bullet wound that hardly phased me. Well I sold my soul to the Devil. That's right. I sold my soul for the power of invulnerability. The FBI still can't figure out how I survived that hail of bullets in Johannesburg. I was stealing blood diamonds from some cartel in South Africa. I got away of course with only 10 bullet holes that healed up quick. You see the doctors gave me until the end of the month when I was 12. But being an Irish girl I wasn't going to surrender that easily. So when Satan came to my hospital bed that night and offered me health I barely thought about it and said yes. The next day I was in full remission. The doctors were dumbfounded. I was happy until I found out the cost...
 
 "Jesus, Isobel," Grant tisked at my wound. "It's like it was never there! All this for an old bitch's finger? And when does museum security get guns?" Even criminals needed doctors but unfortunately ours daylights as a vet. 
 
 I pulled my shirt back on and smiled. Probably something I missed. I had been slipping those past few weeks but in my defense I was on a deadline. Literally. 
 
 "Not just any finger, Grant," I took out the case and peered inside. "Or at least I hope it isn't..." I set the finger down on the metal slab where Grant did his animal surgeries. I took out an amulet of the left eye of Horus.
 
  "This should tell us if you're the real deal, babe," I whispered as I held the eye over the finger. Nothing. The Eye of Horus detects magic and power. If an object has the juice then the Eye glows and burns but nothing. I sat there staring, all hopeful optimism leaving me.
  
  "So..." Grant ventured. Without warning I threw the case with the finger hard at the wall. 
  
  "God fucking damn it!" I cursed loudly not caring if the whole city heard me. I got shot for nothing. I wasted precious time for just another finger. 
  
   "Sucks to be a Catholic. The Church just gave you the finger," Grant tried to lighten the mood.
   
   "Hm...," I collapsed into a chair. For some reason I laughed. "Maybe I should convert and be a Jew like you, asshole. Though I ain't giving up lobster. Not for my last 2 weeks on Earth..."
   
   "I eat ham and pork almost every day," Grant shrugged. Somehow I was able to find humor in all this. Like dad always used to say, there's always something to laugh about. For me it was my own damnation. As soon as I turn 33 the Devil will come to collect his due payment. I suddenly felt a sharp pain as if someone was stabbing me in my chest. I looked down and saw the mark the Devil gave me the day my father died. A glowing red "X" as if freshly branded. Grant never asked questions. It was safer in his line of work not to but with me he couldn't help it...
   
   "How many times has that been happening?"
   
   "Last month it was every day...," I explained plainly. "Though as I get closer to my birthday it gets worse and happens every few hours..." Grant came down and sat next to me. 
   
   "What do you say to someone who's going to hell?" he asked. Half joking half serious. 
   

   "Too bad there isn't a Hallmarks card for this," I mused. "But can we just not talk about it for 5 minutes. I need to... assess the last decade of my so called life." Grant and I had known each other even before becoming colleagues in this field. We weren't much for talking about our feelings but sitting close quietly was like saying, "I'm here. It's going to be okay..." Even though we knew this time it wasn't...

*     *     *     *

     After the disappointment of the finger I decided to blow off some steam. The heat was still on me but as you may have gathered I didn't care about being careful anymore. I was going to die soon. And underground club called The Red Room was the place for hedonists looking to relive Babylon. The music was decadent. I could feel the vibrations like waves pulsing through me. It was like everyone was sharing one heart.
   
   I spotted a smoking hot blond with an apple shaped ass, perfect breasts that you wanted to just squeeze, and lips you wanted to bite and kiss. I had come 2 nights before with an Italian sex dream named Paolo I think... Can't remember but I do remember he had a talented tongue and the firmest abs. Handcuffs were involved. But I wanted to get a little more wild or maybe I could find another pair of hot Italian abs to add into the mix. Why not? It was the end of my world as I knew it.
   
   I sat at the booth when the blond and I exchanged furtive glances. Yet just when I thought I was going to get lost in a night of hot sex with a guy's wet dream my Devil's mark intensified in heat and pain. 
   
   "Hello, Isobel," I froze. That same voice like honey. The Devil sat down across from me smiling his wicked smile. The same glint of mischief in his dark eyes. He looked early 30s. Dark curly hair and a bit of an accent. Very handsome. If he weren't the Devil I would have a lot of fun playing with him in the dark. But right now my insides were churning and my mark burned so hot I thought I was set on fire. 
   
    "My you've grown up into a lovely young woman," the Devil grinned some spark of carnal fascination in his dark eyes. 
    
    "It's not my birthday yet," I said trying to hide my fear. I think he could smell it. "You can't be here."
    
    "It's a free country, dear," he tilted his head. "And I'm a man of my word."
    
    I miffed when he called himself a "man". 
    
    "Then what do you want?" I asked. 
    
    "I'm surprised you're here," he leaned back in the red cushions. "Most people who sell their souls to me who reach are in their last days try fitting in some charities or something or spend hours on their knees in deep introspection. Go through the stages of grief and all that until they reach acceptance."
    
    "I'm Irish Catholic," I retorted. "We don't like to talk about our feelings. We prefer to drink, fight, have sex and pop out a few babies then do it all over again. That's why there are so many of us."
    
    "Fair enough," the Devil chuckled. "But I have a favor to ask of you. Another deal if you want to call it that."
    
    "No."
    
    "Don't you want to know what it is first before you completely dismiss it?"
    
    "I've learned my lesson once," I fumed. 
    
    "Ah yes... your father. I wonder what he would say if he were to see you now. A daughter of a cop growing up into a criminal."
    
    It was like a slap in the face. I also wanted to slap that bastard in his handsome face. The pain from the mark was nothing compared to the memory of seeing my father's mangled corpse after they pulled him from the wreck came back in full force. I took a deep breath trying to hold back a sob. If he saw me now... 
    
    "I told you there was a price, Izzy."
    
    "Stop. Calling. Me that." I slammed my hands on the table making it shake as I spoke through gritted teeth. Only my father ever called me "Izzy". Only he was allowed to call me "Izzy". 
    
     The Devil held up his hands then said, "In this deal no one has to get hurt... Well maybe not. Things never go how you plan them." 
     
     I sat back down contemplating the offer.
     
     "What's the catch?" I asked suspiciously.
     
     "No catch," he said. "I need a favor from you. You have certain skills that I need for this task."
     
     "And if I do this for you...," I looked him in his eyes finding no hint of light, the Devil invented the poker face, "what do I get?"
     

     "Your life. Your soul. Your freedom."

*     *     *     *

If you would like for me to continue this 

story then please comment below and

I'll post another chapter next week.

Writing Prompts: Simple Senses

       Just some simple writing prompts today. Nothing to make me think too hard. Courtesy of The Sarcastic Muse.

   Blue tastes like freshly picked berries. Mostly blackberries ironically enough. Strawberries and raspberries but never blue berries. Blue tastes like sweetener. More like Splenda. Half the calories and not as sweet but delicious nonetheless. It tastes like summer. Watermelons, lemonade, some BBQ chicken to give it an extra kick. There's also some bitterness in there. Some salty tears of sadness. It tastes like rain from a summer thunder storm. It goes from warm to cool in seconds. It never stays one temperature ever. Sometimes the taste can send waves of spring through your body then waves of winter when that first frost settles in. Sometimes the taste makes you feel happy. Other times it makes you feel sad. But blue is one of the world's favorite colors and who wants a color that has only one flavor?

    Spring is filled with baby sounds. Bluebirds singing to welcome the day. The running of brooks and streams newly melted. The soft crack of an egg or a chrysalis opening to reveal something new. Newborn lambs "baa-ing" constantly as they stumble on their new legs. The gentle beating of a butterfly wing. The buzzing of bees as they flit from flower to flower. 

    Summer is the loudest. So many laughing voices and angry shouts. The annoying cry of that carousel song that drives one crazy. The roaring waves that crash and beat the shoreline. Sounds of a thousand footsteps making the board walk creak. Tram cars halting and going. Vendors shouting at the top of their lungs trying to con you into playing for a stuffed zebra. The sizzle of chicken and hot dogs on a grill and sometimes the sizzle of one's own skin in the golden unforgiving sun. It's thunder and lightening storms that crack and drum through the gray sky as rain pours down like water from a broken gutter.

    In Autumn the sounds die down a little. The wind whispers through the trees that when you close your eyes sounds a lot like rain. But there's little rain here and when it does it's gentle like a kiss on the cheek. Leaves crunching underfoot and school buses carrying children shrieking and singing. It sounds of chattering teeth as the frost begins to creep in. Yawns that signal it's close to that big sleep of winter...

    Winter is almost a silent season. Mostly it's snores of peaceful dreaming. Other times its howls wake you up at night. But there some good sounds such as the cutting of skates on ice that almost seem to sing. The crackling of wood on fire. The pouring of steamy hot chocolate to warm your bones. Snow crunches beneath your boots despite how soft it is. Snowflakes alone are so soft they don't make a sound when they hit the ground. Fresh snow is like powder making little noise until the frost sets in. 

    Sunshine tastes like berries once baked in a pie. Sunshine tastes like fresh grass in summertime. It tastes like wild strawberries freshly picked and grapes just picked from the vine. Sunshine tastes like salty sunflower seeds. It tastes like stale beer. Sunshine tastes like rain, the kind that goes down smooth once it hits your tongue. It tastes like sugar, sweet and uncut. It tastes like warm baked bread made from scratch. It has the taste of peanut butter that's so thick you need milk to wash it all down. Sunshine has a powerful taste too sweet and raw for some palettes. Pure sunshine is ambrosia.  

Writing Prompt: The Servant

Writing Prompt:

      Your village left you behind in the forest to die as a sacrifice for the god of the forest. After a while the god shows up, but it's not interested in your death, instead it's looking for a new servant. 

       My name is Marya. I sat alone in the forest upon a small stone altar covered in moss. I wrapped my woolen shawl tightly around my body as night began to fall. Through the leafy canopy of the Black Forest I could see rays of light fading into darkness. Shadows creeped and danced around me as a sharp pain twisted in my stomach as my heart beat faster. I didn't get lost. I was left here by the elders of my village. Supposedly good Christians who would leave an 18 year old girl here to die. 

Despite the whole of Europe having been Christian for 200 years, those who lived near the Black Forest still held tightly to the pagan religion. Why? Because the villagers and hunters who inhabited this vast foreboding wood knew better than the priests or the princes who worshipped a dead god. The gods and monsters of the Black Forest were real, as real as a burn from a candle or the touch of a lover. Every now and then the forest gods needed to be placated and unfortunately I was chosen. My family already had 3 daughters and didn't need a fourth. 
 
 I tried humming to myself to block out the nightly sounds. My only source of light and heat was a candle. At least they left me that much. I hummed a song that my mother used to sing to me. An ancient lullaby that always helped to chase my fears away. Whenever I had a nightmare I would hum that song then the nightmares seemed to evaporate. 
 
 Just as I was in the middle of humming the refrain for the hundreth time I heard a rustle in the distance. I froze as I gripped my shawl tightly and stopped breathing. My heart beat so loudly it pounded in my ears. I feared that the creature hiding in the darkness would hear my hammering heart. Then I saw something emerge... It was taller than a man and wore a hood. For a moment I thought I was saved and I exhaled... until I looked down at the visitor's feet. They weren't human feet but goat hooves.
 
  "So they sent me a pretty girl this time," said the hooded figure in a deep scratchy voice. 
  
  "Are you the forest god?" I asked tentatively. 
  
  "Very forward," the creature responded. "Bold."
  
  I fell on my knees and pleaded, "Please do it quickly then! Devour me as you must and spare my village!" I lowered myself, my face practically smothered in the earth, hands open and outstretched in complete submission. For a moment there was silence. I cautiously looked up like a wary doe. The hooded creature only continued to stare.
  
   "Devour you?" the creature finally spoke somewhat confused. Then he bellowed in laughter. "Is that what those sheep farmers told you?"
   
    "Aren't you going to spill my blood and placate the spirits of the woods and satiate your wild hunger?" I lifted her head up, face somewhat soiled. 
    
    "I don't like raw meat," the god replied in revulsion. 
    
    "You're to cook me then?"
    
    "Heaven's NO! I don't eat people... anymore," the creature god shrugged. "No now I prefer deer, wild boar, geese, and the occasional dog but I like them cooked. Are you a good cook?"
    
    I couldn't answer right away. I was still trying to process it all. Was this some kind of trick?
    
    "Speak, girl," the creature impatiently demanded. 
    
    "Yes," I flinched. "The best in my village."
    
    "Splendid, then come with me," the creature walked passed me. "Unless you want to stay here in the darkness where the wolves can get you..."
    
     I quickly climbed to my feet and followed the forest god taking my candle with me to lead the way though the god didn't seem to need any light. He weaved in and around the brush with ease or did the branches and bushes part for him like Moses and the Red Sea?

*     *     *     *

   We came to a large oak tree with a twisted trunk. Fireflies danced and brought light to the place. They glowed brighter than normal fireflies until I looked closer seeing that they were tiny people with dragonfly wings and wicked smiles. 

     
     "Don't mind the pixies," said the god. "Don't trust them either. They cause much trouble especially when stealing my laundry. Of course that will be your responsibility now."
     
     With a wave of his hairy clawed hand the trunk of the oak tree groaned and untwisted to reveal a passageway where the was a light at the end. I was afraid to go in. Perhaps he meant to eat me after all. Perhaps this was where he was going to boil me alive to make a soup out of me. But I followed him anyway. It wasn't as if I could out run a god...

*     *     *     *

       Underneath the oak tree was a palace. Many stone halls with fireless lights and a large fire place built into the earth. Roots twisted and writhed along the columns and tapestries with golden trees decorated the walls.

     "This is my home," the creature removed his hood to reveal a goat head with a long beard and stag horns. His eyes were like two green emeralds, as green as the forest in summer time. I was entranced by them.

      "Now your home too...," the god showed me around and told me about my duties. I was to cook and clean for him. He liked his meals taken in the south corridors. He had a library as large as the Burghermeister's house. I was also to feed the god's pets. The wolves slept in their own room. They all looked frightening even in their sleep. 

     
     "If you do your job well then you will be well treated," the god explained. Then I saw a large door with no lock on it. 
     
     "May I ask where that leads?" I pointed.
     
     "That," the god's voice became harsh, "is never to be open. I had a servant before you who opened it and she was fed to my pets." The god bent over to look me in the eye.
     
      I nodded vigourously. Since there was no lock it wasn't as if I could open it anyway. 

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     I was up at the crack of dawn doing chores. I cooked for the forest god and fed his wolf pets who weren't so menacing after all (since I presented them with food; gladly it wasn't myself). I went about dusting the books when the forest god told me that his cloaks needed washing. Before I went the forest god gave me a bracelet made from simple rope. 

     
     "Wear this whenever you are out so others know that you are mine and under my protection," he explained. 
     
     I went outside with my load of laundry and sat next to the river to do my work. I was out for hours until the sun was high in the sky beating it's rays down on me. I splashed some cold water on my face. Then my stomach began to rumble.
     
     "Damn," I swore aloud, "why didn't I bring an apple?" As soon as I said it I heard a rustling in the trees. I looked around but saw no one there. Just as I was breathing a sigh of relief beside me walked out a large bear. I moved back, heart racing wondering if my bracelet could protect me from being mauled to death. The bear looked at me with curious eyes. It left me be only to venture into the quiet river and stick it's head beneath the surface. Then after a few minutes the bear pulled out its prize: a large fish in it's jaw. 
     
     The bear climbed out of the river and dropped the flipping fish at my feet. I looked up at the bear who stared back at me expectantly. When I did nothing the bear nudged the gift closer to me.
     
      "For me?" I marveled. 
      
      The bear let out an impatient groan. I took the fish and set up a small fire. I gave the raw half to the bear and cooked the other. We unlikely companions ate together and I felt full and had enough strength to finish my wash. 
      
      "Thank you... Bear," I nodded. The bear didn't make a sound but left me with questions. After letting the cloaks dry for an hour, I folded them then made my way back to the large oak tree. On my way I heard an animal cry in distress. It was an ugly sound which could only have been a fox. I knew their sounds. It was like listening to a man being murdered. I went to investigate it and sure enough found a fox with it's leg caught in metal trap. I was overcome with pity for the animal. 
      
       "Poor fox," I looked around to see if anyone was near by. "Well the poacher isn't here so I'll just help you out."
       
       I was the daughter of a hunter. I knew my way around a trap but I preferred a creature die with dignity not to be tormented with waiting to die. I tore a piece of my dress and bound the fox's wounded hind leg. The fox seemed to smile. It ran off into the forest and I thought I heard the creature say "Thank you."

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