Superstition

Well, here's my Sunday Scribblings on Monday - I started them on Sunday/last night, got part way through writing my 'tiny tale' for it, and then was overcome with sleepiness...I decided I better just go with getting a good night's sleep, rather than push through to finish the post, and end up with another night of insomnia. If I don't put myself to bed the minute I feel sleepy, then my body, says "Fine! You want to stay awake - we're staying awake!" Bossy body. I'm trying to listen to it more now, though, since it thinks it knows everything...well, maybe it does know more about me, than I do, lol.

I've been thinking about superstitions, ever since I saw that's the prompt for this week's Sunday Scribblings, especially as the full moon was shining down on us last night. I took this photo of the moon, seen through our jacaranda tree, while I was wondering how superstitions originate (I've only read a couple of the entries so far, so forgive me if someone else has already followed along this train of thought). Some superstitions  are kind of easy to understand - if you walk under a ladder, you just might be inviting the person up on top of it to drop something down on you - maybe only paint, maybe something worse. Open an umbrella in the house, and somebody might get a poke in the eye. A hat on the bed? Well, that could be bad luck for the hat owner, if someone doesn't see it, and sits down on it. 

There are lots of other superstitions that I'm not so sure exactly how someone thought them up...like throwing a pinch of spilt salt over your shoulder to ward off the devil...did someone actually spill salt and find the old Goat standing there behind them, ready to slurp it up?  Or itchy noses...if someone showed up at my doorstep every time my nose itched in the spring or fall, I'd have to post a "no visitors" sign, or I'd never get any rest.

But what if there were some basis in our distant past for some of our old superstitions - that in our modern world (as we think of it),  we never would have guessed - because it's just outside our realm of understanding. Especially the ones concerned with certain places being sacred or cursed...What if we're paving the way for future superstitions right now, without even realizing it? That's the basis for this tiny tale that's been spinning in my head tonight.

I should forewarn you, this is a fairly dark, cautionary tiny tale this time...if you're up for that sort of thing today, grab a cup of tea or whatever fortifies you, and read on. It may be uncharacteristically dark for a Tinker tale, but it's what the muse brought me last night, and who am I to argue with a muse? But I thought I should give you fair warning - still time to back out from reading it...(of course, even my version of 'dark' is fairly tame, compared to a lot of what's out there nowadays). Nonetheless, here's my tiny dark tale of 'Superstitions:'

I shouldn't have gone back there, after Cass died...I think the curse may be coming over me now. My hair's starting to fall out now, and I'm feeling weak, just like how it started with her. But I guess - just like Cass, I couldn't believe a place could make you so sick without a reason - it's not like she ate anything from there, and how could just breathing the air itself from there, kill her weeks later? I guess I'm about to find out now, myself.

I only went there long enough to throw back the rocks she'd picked up from there. I'd been carrying them around in my pocket since she took that last breath - I'd promised her I would take them back to their hallowed ground. Despite how she'd always thumbed her nose at the silly superstitions of the village, even Cass came to believe at the end - at least in this one superstition.

Cass would laugh and tease anyone who would fork the evil eye towards the direction of the Wastingland. Finally, when Ben dared her to go there if she thought it was so silly, and she did. Even though it was more than a day's walk to cross the mountain. She did it just to prove to everyone how silly that superstition was...I begged her not to go - she was my only sister - and I was fortunate to have her. Our family had been blessed - some say because our mother came from another village, far to the west - the Blessed Country. If you could have heard the stories she told about her own village, you'd be amazed - there are places there bigger than our village, filled with trees that grow taller than our houses. She must have loved our father very much to come back here, where we only have three sacred trees. Sometimes I wonder if she regretted leaving that Blessed place and coming to our cursed little village. I know sometimes I'd hear Papa murmuring to her in the night, about his duty - the duty of the village, to continue to warn people away from the Wastingland, and I'd think, "she wants to go back - please Papa, let Mama take us back to the Blessed Country, and you stay and warn everyone away from the Wastingland, if that's what you think you have to do." I loved hearing Mama's stories about the Blessed Country; I used to dream of going there myself someday...but then Mama and Papa died, then Cass died - and instead of going to the Blessed Country, I had to go wander off to the Wastingland myself. Stupid! Why was I so stupid? Why didn't Cass believe the tales? Why didn't I?

Papa told everyone to never go there, that was our village's purpose - to tell everyone not to go there...why didn't I believe, too? Even after watching Mama die, while Papa cried that bringing her even this close to the Wastingland is what killed her...then Papa dying of heartbreak. Still Cass and I didn't believe...and doesn't that make both their deaths even more of a waste? 

At least Mama was blessed with having two daughters, before she died - most families in the village only have one child, if any, that lives to grow up - so we were blessed to begin with, which I guess is why Cass thought she'd be okay if she went - like that blessing exempted her from everything bad. I couldn't talk her out of it - even if our parents were still alive, I don't know if they could have talked her out of it - when Cass was determined to do something, she did it

Even after she went and came back, she still said she didn't believe in the curse. She still laughed about it after going there - but when she first walked back into the village, I could tell there was something she wasn't talking about, and it was more than just the scrapes on her knees. I could always tell when Cass was holding something back. Those scrapes on her knees turned to big open sores, and they never healed over...

I'm writing this down, so others will know it's true, and not go back there, back to the Wastingland. I think anyone who goes there, really may be cursed to die a horrible, wasting death. Don't go there just because you're curious to see what it looks like, because it seems mysterious - I'll tell you right now, and spare you the trip  - and the death.

After you climb up over the mountain - which isn't as much fun as it might seem, either, with all the loose dirt, and the rocks sliding out from under you - there's really nothing to grab hold of either, not even grass grows up there on the top of the mountain - after you finally climb up to the top -you look down, and it looks like nothing but fog below you at first - but not the pretty cloudy kind. This looks kind of a sick yelllow fog, for as far as you can see...I should have just dropped Cass' rocks, right then and there. But no, I had to let myself slip and slide down to the bottom of the mountain. I had to see if there was anything in that fog...and it's not really fog when you get into it - it's more like dust - I couldn't go very far - I was afraid I'd lose the mountain - I could hardly see my hands in front of me - if it weren't for Cass' rocks glowing in my hands, I probably wouldn't have been able to...I threw them down though, and just turned directly back around, to stumble my way back up out of the fog.

Just as I felt the ground slopng back up into the hill, I tripped on something, and fell - I scraped my knees up, just like Cass had done. I felt something kind of smooth and cold, very thin but jagged around the edges under my hand. I picked it up and carried it with me back out of the fog, as fast as I could - I was coughing and choking in all that dust.  The ground was so loose, I didn't think I'd ever be able to scramble my way back up the hill, and even though it was cutting my hand to try and carry it, I wouldn't put what I found back down. I needed to see it; I could tell there was some sort of writing on it. 

The rocks and the loose dirt kept sliding out from under me, and half the time, I was just crawling on my knees, trying to climb up out of that fog - get as far away from it as I could - and not letting go of that strange, thin piece of metal, no matter how much it hurt and cut me.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, I was up above the sickening yellow fog again. I just collapsed there, and laid on the ground for a little while. I was afraid to rest too long, though - I might fall asleep. Something told me, if I fell asleep there, I might never wake up again - and even though I think I'm dying now, I'm grateful at least I am dying here - on this side of the mountain, by the three sacred trees, away from that yellow fog.

After I rested for awhile, I looked at the metal - the talisman I'd brought back from the fog - just as Cass must have looked at those little glowing rocks, when she climbed out of the fog. It looked burned or eaten away; it was covered in that yellow dust. I used my smock to clean it off as best as I could.

It had the old writing on it - like some of the old writing that Papa kept in his trunk, that he said was Sacred, like our trees. He'd never let Cass or I go near it, though - and Ben and some of the others came and took the trunk away when he died. At the time, Cass and I were too sad to care - now, I wish we'd at least made them let us have a look at it first. When we were little, we'd peeked in there when Papa was away and seen the old writing - we'd asked Mama about it - and she'd told us she would teach us how to read and write in the old writing, but that we mustn't ever touch the ones in Papa's trunk again. She did teach us - and Papa was upset when he found out about it - but then after Mama talked to him, she soothed him down again...but that's how I knew what those letters were. I still don't know exactly what they mean, but I think they were a clear warning from the Ancient Ones.

I know Cass and I always said we didn't really believe Papa's stories about the Ancient Ones - that they travelled in wagons that moved without anyone having to pull them; that they could talk to one another, without having to be in the same room; that they even flew in the air to the moon. I still think Papa or someone made that last one up - but I'm pretty sure now the Ancient Ones did exist - and that Papa was right - no one should ever go near the Wastingland.

I believed it for certain with that piece of writing from the Ancient Ones in my hand right then. So I planted it on top of the mountain - to warn others not to cross to the other side, to the Wastingland or, as the writing from the Ancient Ones said - the "WARNING" at the top, and the next line "UCLEAR WASTE FACI" - I think there was more to the sign once - it looked like some of the sign with parts of more letters had been burned away. I'm not sure what 'Faci" meant in the old language, and that fog certainly doesn't look clear, maybe it meant "you stay clear away?' But I think it's enough of a warning - at least, I hope it is.

I have to stop now, I'm feeling sick to my stomach again, and I'm so weak; these sores aren't healing  and my hair is falling out in clumps. But I wanted to write what I could, while I still can - please, please - don't ever go to the Wastingland. It's not just superstition - it's real and it's very dangerous.

Written by my hand, with my heart,

Sybil, the Watchman's Daughter

31st day of Septober, in the year 3012

Well, that's my tiny tale for today - sorry it's a bit dark - I think the full moon had me looking into the shadowside. To see other people's writing on the topic of "Superstition," visit Sunday Scribblings. Despite my gloom and doom tale - I hope your week is off to a great start!  Perkier posts should resume tomorrow *_*

Comments

[Paris Parfait]

That is a dark tale, but very well told! Excellent take on the prompt and what a fabulous, spooky photo! xo

[Kamsin]

Ohh, great story! Does seem that full moon had you thinking spooky, dark things!

[Lisa Oceandreamer]

Wow I had no idea where this was going. It read like an old Twilight Zone episode, I could see the old sign being uncovered and a collective gasp from the viewers. Well done my writer friend, well done.
XOXO

[artzyjudie]

Are you related to Steven King? OMG let me outta here. Where's the door.....oh no, there's no doorknob!

[janet]

WOW! That was a good, dark tale. You paint a full picture with your words. I had no idea where it was going until the very last and I loved it.

[Caroline]

Superstitions are sometimes remnants as you suggest... though whether of something as "obviously" bad for you or not depends... I've a great book on them... if only I could get to it... but the wall of furniture moved whilst the builders are _still_ active here means it will have to wait... its bad luck to walk over stacked furniture you know.

[Caroline]

Oh and I meant to confess I couldn't quite manage a dark tale right now so thank you for the warning... maybe I'll come back again when we haven't just had yet more water through the ceiling...

What is the sign for grin and bear it?

||:-|)

??

[dandelion]

perfectly spooky! x

[gautami]

very engrossing tale, I must say. I enjoyed it.

[Daisy Lupin]

Oh what a great story, it sort of fits in with all I have been thinking recently, about time accelerating, disasters, warnings from the past about the future, saving the Earth. [Not that I go around being a misery, it just thinks I sometimes think over] A very apt story for this time. Well done Tinker.

[Caroline]

Well I came back and braved your dark tale - brr... chilling indeed.

Well written!

[Tammy]

I enjoyed your dark well told tale Tink :)

[sundaycynce]

Fantastic picture!!! Fascinating story.
Have you ever read Stephen Vincent Benet's story "By the Waters of Babylon"? It is a cautionary tale of the same genre as yours. It was always one I loved to teach, so it is definitely a compliment that yours reminds me a bit of his.

[kai]

it was a dark and scary night.. that was awesome tinker.. :)
PEace, Kai.

[Laura Bjerk]

Your picture of the moon...I literally just posted one very similar. Isn't that amazing?!

I am part of the Finding Water group, too, Good luck with the rest of Week 3!

[Jana]

THAT WAS AN AWESOME STORY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I love it!!!!

You need to publish these things!!!! That is amazing!!!!

And sadly enough, might come to pass one day. :o(

[Frances]

Amazing little story - thank you for writing it.
When it comes to sleep I am just like you - if I don't go the second I'm sleepy then I won't sleep at all.
Your template is interesting.
Take care,
Frances
http://blogjem.com/2007/03/04/sunday-scribblings-march-4th/

[Pacian]

Ooooooooh!

Cool! Did you know that there was something of a controversy recently about trying to come up with symbols for nuclear waste facilities that would still put people off 10,000 years from now?