• With the sun at its peak in the sky it managed to peer through the cracks in the canopy above the forests of Raeyunna and the summer closed into autumn. The swollen belly of a young faerie thumped with the kicking of the child within. Menispermum kneeled down, pressing her ear with amazement to her friend’s womb. She stood up, her long legs and knobby knees unfolding awkwardly yet elegantly.

    “Beautiful,” Menispermum uttered, a tear hanging from the edge of her lavender eye. “Do you know-,” she began carefully, “Who it will be?” She dearly hoped that a good, intelligent spirit would reincarnate into Aristolochia’s child.

    Aristolochia looked down, running an onyx finger over the large bump in her stomach. “No.” Water began to run down her cheeks, “Nobody, nobody has died. The last Stygian to die here in Raeyunna was Coriandrun, the Elder. But then your Drosera was born.” Aristolochia could barely choke it out and began to weep violently. Menispermum wrapped her arms around Aristolochia’s shoulders and stroked her hair.

    Once her tears began to dry she justified herself, “Not that I blame you,” she said, “But I prayed and prayed for a soul after my conception and not a single death. I couldn’t have on of those children.” She shook her head and looked up at Menispermum with red eyes and a splotchy face, “Those unlearning children. They always die anyway; they never can live without a soul to guide them. They can’t unlock knowledge of past lives if they’ve had none! They can’t do anything. They’re a ghastly sight.”

    “I know,” Menispermum said tonelessly, “I know.” Her own sister had been one. The empty, unable to function properly. For years her mother had tried to teach it, nearly killed herself with frustration. The ancient souls were given the knowledge to learn by Shicentu, the god of nature, himself. Without one of the souls, they didn’t even know how to learn.

    “Don’t worry. The doctor says you’ve still a few weeks to go. You’ll get your wish; you’ve tainted not a bloodline, done nothing wrong. The gods will show mercy and bring it a soul.”


    That night Menispermum laid the baby Drosera to bed. The infant’s eyes fluttered in the onset of unconsciousness. Menispermum lay upon her mat, staring up at the ceiling. She prayed for a death so that Aristolochia’s child would be a faerie instead of an empty beast. She glanced over at her daughter’s crib, the black skin of a Stygian faerie was unseen in the dark but the motion of breathing beneath the white blankets assured that she was safe.

    Menispermum recalled the night that Coriandrun had died, fallen dead in the middle of the night of a heart attack. His body had been taken for ceremonial purposes immediately. His heart was cut from his chest and burned so that illness of the heart would not develop in those who ate it. Then the body was given to the village Elders who had the privilege of eating the body for nutrients.
    And finally the head was cut off, brain salvaged from it and given to Menispermum. She devoured it with much delight, her kind enjoyed such, the body was a delicacy and a brain said to be the most appetizing. But it was reserved for pregnant women only. As the brain, the center of function, held the spirit that controlled the body. Being eaten would transfer the soul into the child’s brain.

    Aristolochia needed a death, she would be devastated otherwise. But if the gods did not intend it to be, it would not be Menispermum decided. Then she drifted into sleep.


    To read chapter two: http://www.gaiaonline.com/arena/writing/fiction/vote/?entry_id=100709029
    To read the entire story: http://gaiaonline.com/arena/writing/fiction/vote/?entry_id=100679491