Story Time

Episode 1004

“Let’s bring Amos to the cabin and unload our gear. Then I’ll make sure the paddock will keep him in place.”


The door opened to the south so seeing into the cabin was difficult. Elon waited at the door while Paran put Amos in the paddock. While she did she chanced to see the remains of a wood pile. There wasn’t a lot there, but there was enough to see them through a night or two. Paran’s joy over the discovery only made it better.

Paran entered first, holding a large stick she had picked up for protection against anything that might have decided to use the cabin for its home. There was nothing. So they brought in several armloads of wood and started a fire. Soon, a warm glow was taking the chill out of the air and their bones.

The cabin seemed larger on the inside. Elon saw that was because it was longer from north to south than from east to west. It was all a single room, with a loft area accessed by a ladder attached to the east wall near the fireplace. A rustic table stood in the middle, with four chairs, equally non-impressive in appearance, but sturdy in workmanship. There was a pantry, a wardrobe, and even a large tub, complete with a drain leading out a hole in the floor near the wall. A bed was against the far north wall, it’s straw mattress an inviting vision after three nights on the cold hard ground.

There was no stove. A fireplace crane appeared to be how cooking was done. That was fine with Elon. She had only brought one small kettle, but that was in hope of the future. They had no meat nor vegetables to eat anyway.

They lay head to head in front of the hearth. Elon on her left side and Paran on her right. Before them the fire danced and sang. Occasionally an ember would spit and jump, as if adding emphasis to the song. Most of the smoke found its way up the chimney, but enough wafted into the room to give a wholesome smell. Elon always liked the smell of burning logs. She liked it how the smells clung to clothing and skin, as ever reminders of a pleasant evening.

“Why do you think they left?” asked Elon.

“Don’t know. Could be any of several reasons. Maybe the water’s bad up here. Or maybe there isn’t any. I didn’t see a well. But I think whoever was here left in a hurry. Or they were killed.”

A stab of fear went through Elon and she rolled to her stomach to see Paran.

“Killed?”

Paran seemed unconcerned. “Or something. I mean look around here. There’s a table. A pantry. A wardrobe. A bed. Even a soft chair.”

“So you think they died?”

“It’s possible, but I don’t think so. There’s only big stuff here. The wardrobe and pantry are empty. Someone took those things. So either those who lived here left without their furniture, or others came later and took their things.”

Elon glanced around the cabin. Everything was dancing in shadows. What Paran had said was true. A quick examination of things had revealed nothing small or easy to carry. Only the furniture pieces remained.

“But the furniture seems well made. I wonder why they left it.” She turned back on her side. Paran’s confidence in the matter was enough for now. However, Elon still couldn’t help feeling that she hoped they didn’t learn the answer to that question. She decided to steer the conversation. “What is our plan for tomorrow?”

Story Time

Episode 1003

They ate some jerky and some bread. Then Paran decided to scout ahead.


Elon sat close to the pony and waited anxiously. Her eyes constantly strayed from the rock slide behind to the path Paran had taken ahead. Time was an enemy. A threat. Every moment Paran was gone was another possibility that she wasn’t coming back. What if there was another slide? What if she had fallen and was hurt? What if Kerr and her brother were to show up, demanding the return of both the pony and Paran? What, what, what?

It was impossible to know how long Paran had been gone. Fear stretched moments to minutes. But the sun was going down. That wasn’t imagination. But finally Paran was back. She seemed happy. Elon was.

“You’ll never believe this, but I found an abandoned farm not far from here. There’s a small cabin for us and a lean to with paddock for Amos. Hurry. Let’s get him packed up again and be on our way.”

Amos seemed doleful as Paran settled the packs on his back. Elon caressed his cheek, thinking how soft his hair felt. It was like a fine flax. Or the tassels on the top of corn stalks.

The ground was sloping but not steep, so they made good time. Still, they were in the foothills, and the tall pines were quickly shielding them from the sinking sun. Shadows were long and deep. Then, they broke free to a clearing.

Elon felt herself gasp. It was a beautiful farm. Small, but nicely placed. The ground was mostly level here, for several acres. To the west it dropped off, but not without leaving plenty of room for crops. In fact, the earth still showed the scars from previous year’s work. The paddock was small, only large enough for two or three animals. A lean to stood against the hillside, providing protection from anything that might be falling down from above, such as rocks. Or snow. It even had a wind break on the paddock side.

There was a barn. Not large, but a farm such as this wouldn’t need a large barn. But already Elon could imagine what it must be like inside. A place for corn. A place for hay. A place to store their equipment, once they got some.

The cabin looked darling. It was also small. A chimney stack stood like an attached sentinel. Two shuttered windows flanked a single door. Was there a root cellar? She couldn’t tell. It was getting too dark. But there had to be. Down the slope and tucked into the trees was the shadow of an outhouse.

“Oh, Paran! This looks wonderful. Are you sure it’s abandoned?”

“As sure as I can be after just a few minutes. No fresh dung in the paddock. No smoke from the chimney. No light in the cabin. Whoever did live here is gone now.”

“I wonder why someone would leave a farm like this? It seems so perfect.”

“It is for us. We can put a fire in the hearth. No more huddling to keep warm.”

Elon swallowed the feeling of disappointment. “I didn’t mind.”

Story Time

Episode 1002

"Paran, are you all right?"


Paran's face screwed up in apparent disgust. "Yes. My own fault. I thought I could quicken the pace. Serves me right. What about the pony?"

The pony was struggling to get up but the pack was making it hard. Elon began undoing the straps. Elon held onto the lead as the pony got to its feet. Paran examined it. After a few minutes she sighed.

"Well, he doesn't seem to be hurt. Let's find a place to stake him out so he can eat and relax."

Spring was still fresh, but it had been a warm winter and already most of the snow was already gone, even from some of the high places. So finding a place for the pony to eat wasn't hard. There wasn't a lot in any one place, but there was enough to satisfy the pony.

Elon went to Paran, who was examining their packs. She looked up the hill.

"Do you think they're coming after us?"

Paran didn't look up. "Probably."

The short answer felt like a slap in the face, and Elon nearly fell back. She shouldn't have said anything.

"You're still mad about the pony?"

"We've been over this a dozen times, Elon."

"But we really needed him."

This time Paran's sigh showed exasperation.

"Yes! I agreed with you. Remember? Having the pony meant we could bring more supplies. But you must admit that taking your brother's pony means we now have him to worry about, too. If it had just been Kerr we would probably be free now. I don't see Kerr traipsing this far just to catch a runaway bride."

"I don't know. Kerr is a bit of a pig head."

Paran laughed. The sound lifted Elon's heart.

"That he is. And father had the nerve to say I would be happy with him. Hmph! As if anyone could be happy with Kerr."

Encouraged by Paran's laughter, Elon sat down.

"I'm glad you ran away from him, Paran."

Paran must have sensed something in Elon's voice for she stopped what she was doing and turned. Her expression was comforting.

"You're still upset about the slide?"

Elon smiled. She could never fool Paran. Whatever her mood, Paran seemed to sense it and respond accordingly. It was one of the things Elon loved about her. She could be tough when she needed to be, but in her heart she was gentle and loving.

"I was so scared when you fell."

The two young women held eye contact for several minutes. For Elon, it was enough just to be with Paran. When she had learned of Paran's betrothal to Kerr she had taken sick. Then, when Paran had confided her plan to slip away, Elon had improved the plan (she felt). She had taken Amos, her brother's sturdy pony, and laden him with two heavy packs filled with spare clothing and food stuffs. She had even remembered to bring seeds for planting a vegetable garden. Assuming they could find a place to farm.

Suddenly, Paran smiled. Elon liked her smile. She didn't offer it often, but when she did it was like the sun breaking free from behind a cloud.

"You know, I should have made you stay behind. But I am glad you're here."

Elon felt her heart warm. "You need me."

"That I do."

Story Time

Episode 1001

The stones clattered from beneath the pony's feet and echoed down the hillside. This wasn't a good way to descend, but it was the only way it could get down alive. And it was bad enough they had stolen it without having killed it, too.

Elon put her hand on it's muzzle and spoke comforting words at it, letting it relax before the next effort. She looked at Paran, who was using the respite to test the animal's load.

"Should we go back?" Elon asked.

Paran glanced back the way they had come and shook her head. "It's too late for that. We're committed. Just try to go slow."

Elon nodded and urged the pony onward and downward. Fortunately, the route wasn't entirely made up of loose stones. There were enough places for them to stop and regroup their courage, and look down and realize how foolish they were being. At least they had had enough sense not to try this late in the day. At Paran's insistence they had camped up on the ridge, using the heavy pines as cover. Tonight they would be camping at the base. Assuming they were still alive to camp.

They made poor time, and when the sun rose high above them to laugh at their effort they were hardly half way. And the going only got worse as they went lower. Loose rock had to go some place, and that place was down. So the new pieces they were kicking joined the countless others already covering the lower slopes.

Elon wanted to complain, but what was the point? It wasn't as if Paran didn't already know. And what was to be done about it anyway? They couldn't go back up. Not now.

Just as she was beginning to think they might make it after all she felt her feet slip out from under her. She instinctively let go of the lead rope. That was a good thing, she hoped. At least she wasn't pulling the pony down on top of her.

The noise from her own fall made it impossible to know if either or both Paran and the pony were on their way down with her. And she was falling too fast to look. Fortunately, there were only fifty or sixty feet left before the ground leveled off so it wasn't long before she came to an unpleasant rest. Stones continued to rain down upon her and she warded her head with her arms until she was certain it was over.

She lifted her head and looked up the hill. Paran was trying to hurry the pony down at an angle. At least they hadn't fallen.

"Elon! Are you okay?" Paran called.

Elon got to her knees. "I think so."

"Move away from the debris field, in case we fall, too. I'm hurrying as fast as I dare."

"Don't. I'm okay. There's no need for you to come down like I did. I don't appear to be bleeding, apart from a couple of cuts, and nothing seems broken."

"Then find a place to wait."

The wait wasn't terribly long. In the end, Paran and the pony also slid down, but not nearly so far. The pony had fallen first so Paran came down on top. Also, the pack helped prevent serious injury.

Elon hurried over.

Reflected Attitudes

The creative arts often have a huge impact on society and its social rules. This is particularly so of video, I think. I also believe the reason for this is that there are loads of people who would never think of picking up a book to read, but who will watch almost anything on television or in the theatre. Movie theatre. I expect the number of live performance attenders is similar to book readers.

Not that there aren't a lot of book readers. There are just more people who don't read book than who do.

But you can see the evolution of things by watching old movies and comparing them with newer issues. There was a lot of religious themes in the early films, although not exclusively. And when Christianity was portrayed it was done in overdramatic fashion. Other religions were put down. Homosexuality was not an overt topic in most Hollywood productions, although there were films to address it.

By the time the fifties came around preachers were almost always portrayed as crazy and/or phony. Gay and lesbian themes were kept in the background, couched with 'in' words and catch phrases that the general public would not understand.

In the sixties and seventies preachers were mostly ridiculous. And so were Gays and lesbians. Gay and lesbian characters were always overt, and always the source of one-line jokes. While this did bring the issue more out in the open, I wonder if it didn't also encourage 'gay-bashing'. I have read of small gangs who would seek out homosexuals in order to beat them up from before this era, so I'm not sure.

Gays and lesbians are still often the focus of humor, particularly on television sitcoms. But it's changing. As more and more people become public about what they believe and how they feel and want to live, society is being forced to acknowledge there are a lot more people who fall within the labels than previously thought.

That's video. What about the written word? What kind of an impact has that had over the years? After all, the written word has existed for thousands of years, while video is barely over one hundred years old. And talkie films are less than one hundred years old. So, how has the written word impacted social mores and such?

To be honest, I don't really know. I am learning through my online research that the subject has been written about for hundreds of years. I also expect there are a lot of stories written in which main characters were GLBT (My research has also shown there are a variety of orders for these letters. I use this order because it's what I'm used to.) Kind of like Abus Dumbledore in J.K.Rowling's, Harry Potter, series. According to Rowling, Dumbledore is gay. And yet the character never behaves or talks in a sexual manner. There are no hints of child molestation or adult affairs**. But then Dumbledore was also monogomous. But he is a natural character, and a favorite.

I expect there are a lot of characters in books which are of a like mold. Their authors saw them as gay, lesbian, or whatever, but didn't make it part of the actual story because that issue had nothing to do with the story. So the differences were subtle. Too sublte to be noticed by most of the reading audience, but probably enough to bring comfort to some. Comfort in the sense of familiarity. Of belonging.

Writing stories has evolved over the centuries. It's harder, I think, to get accepted by major publishers now, but it's easier to write whatever we want to write. And that is good for we who like to write.

** added later for clarification || I do not mean to imply that GLBT people are more prone to child molestation than others. However, it always seemed to me that that was how they were portrayed in the past. My point with J.K.Rowling was that she portrayed Dumbledore as normal.

What I Was and Who I Am

Got to waxing nostalgic and was thinking about grade school days, and how they differed from junior high and high school.

When I was in grade school (grades 1-6), it was not uncommon at all to see two girls walking the playground arm-in-arm. Or two boys, for that matter. There was lots of hugging to demonstrate close friendship. Generally it was same sex.

This was smiled on and not discouraged in any way by any member of the faculty or staff. They all thought it was great.

All of this changed once we reached seventh grade. Beginning in seventh grade girls were no longer encouraged to hug girls and boys were no longer encouraged to hug boys. And yet they stuck us naked in showers together. That was uncomfortable. For me, anyway. But same sex couples caught hugging, or even holding hands, would be mocked and humilitated - by students, faculty, and staff alike. Then, for those who were part of varsity sports or cheerleading squads, hugs and butt slaps were allowed during victory celebrations, home runs, touchdowns, and goals scored. But you'd better not enjoy it too much.

It's interesting to me that all of us apparently have it within ourselves to put aside our programming - when it suits us.

I wonder if the day will come when it suits most of us all, or at least most, of the time. It would certainly give us one less thing to fight about. And it would make a lot of people's lives a lot easier to live.

There weren't many who bucked the system back then. At my school ALL girls took home economics and ALL boys took shop class. In my six years of junior high and high school only one boy and one girl stood up and forced the school to let them switch. A boy decided he didn't want to learn how to fix cars, make things out of metal and whatnot. He would rather learn how to cook and sew and do things like that. A couple of years later a girl decided she wanted to learn the mechanics and crafts being taught the boys.

Think about that. We had six grades in the school with a total enrollment between 800 and 1,000 students. In six years only two people dared stand up and declare what they wanted.

I wasn't one of them.  Wish I had been.

A History of Hatred

Been reading up on lesbian life in the Victorian and medieval eras. My inspiration for doing this was a website that claimed in Victorian England there were women in 'respectable' society who deemed themselves married, called themselves married, and were treated as married by the rest of society. At the same time, women who indulged in 'affairs' with other women were considered low-life.

Unfortunately, I didn't bookmark the site and I don't recall how I stumbled upon it, so I can't provide a link at this time. But I found it interesting that perhaps we have actually become more narrow in our thinking as time has progressed. My research so far would indicate that no, we're just as narrow-minded as we've ever been, and just as critical of people who don't act (or think, or feel) like us.

Another thing which spawned my interest in Victorian society was remembering a documentary type show I saw a number of years ago about two girls who developed a close friendship. There did not seem to be any sexual behavior between them, but they were 'friendlier than just friends', as their families put it. Eventually they became a scandal and were separated. The one grew up to become an author, or a poet, and I think she was the focus of the documentary. Neither woman would talk about the other, and as I remember the documentary, neither woman was particularly happy with her life after separation.

I finding it interesting that about eight hundred years ago in certain parts of Europe it was women who were seen as the insatiable sex cravers and not men. Men were above that sort of thing. Right.

Well, I don't think that attitude lasted long, because what followed was the belief that women having sexual relations with women was impossible (because there could be no penetration). Right. But this belief hung on for a long time. Still, there were laws made and punishments doled out. The most common punishment was confinement in a nunnery, which explains the reputations some of the nunneries had. I mean, think about it. If you fill a place up with women who prefer women to men it only stands to reason that some of these women are going to fall in love with each other beyond simple friendship. It's really no different than the monastary reputations from the same time, or if one were to confine heterosexuals together.

People are going to fall in love when they meet someone who fills the empty place in their heart.

It's still incredible to me, though, how we, as a (human) race, put so much emphasis on sex and gender. Most people believe we are spiritual beings, meaning our spirit will live on when the body dies. Not everyone believes this, but I think most people do. Just look at how important religion and faith are around the world. So why, if we really aren't our bodies, do we make such a big deal out of what's between our legs and what we do with it? Is it because we have been taught that who and what we are is really defined by what goes on between our legs? Sometimes it seems so.

The research into Victorian and medieval societies is fascinating and I intend to continue my reading. I may stumble again upon that original website, and perhaps I will also find out who the author was. I'm sure she was born in the 1800s. Maybe early 1900s. And I'm thinking she moved to England from Australia, but it's been a long time and my memory is fuzzy.