“Daddy, can you read the story again?”

“Of course, my little princess.”

John read the story in a soft voice and said all the right words, but his mind was elsewhere.  Elsa was sick and no doctor in the land could make her better.

He walked to his own room when she fell asleep, his heart breaking at her ragged gasping breaths.  They said their was something wrong with her lungs.  They just weren’t growing fast enough, for some reason they couldn’t keep pace with the rest of her body.

Having a sick child is never fun, but is especially frustrating when they look perfectly normal.  Elsa didn’t look sick, but to describe her as normal would be a cruelty.  John thought she was the most beautiful little girl in the world, and not just because he was her father.  Everything about her reminded him of her mother.

He cried softly every time he dyed her hair.  He had done it her whole life; she thought it was normal.  John reminded himself it was better this way, that he was protecting her, but he hated hiding the blue and green streaks inside a chemically made blond.

The telephone rang.

“Hello?”

“I’m on my way.”

“You’re late.”

“John, this is not the time-”

“I”m not fighting with you, it’s just that she’s not doing well.”

“I’ll be there soon, very soon.”

“Wake up, sweetie, Mommy’s here.”  Elsa rolled over and smacked her lips before pushing herself up slowly.

“Is Mommy staying with us?”

“Elsa, you know that Mommy and Daddy love you, but Mommy can’t live here anymore.  I’m sorry.”  Elsa looked away and made an angry sad face.  Her mother walked in the room and sat down in the bed.

“Wake up, sleepy head. ”

They walked down to the beach together, a happy normal family, together again.  Elsa was already breathing hard from the short walk, so John picked her up and carried her the rest of the way.  He kicked of his shoes at the edge of the boardwalk and Elsa laughed when he pulled her flip flops off. It was all new to her, they had lived in the desert her whole short life, she’d never even seen rain, and now there was the whole wide ocean.

“Are you ready for this, John?”

“No.”  John walked slowly towards the water.  it was still dark, but the dawn was coming soon.  They told Elsa they wanted to watch the sun rise, that’s why they woke her up so early.

“No?”

“No, I’m not ready, but I have to do this.”  Elsa looked at her Mommy and Daddy and felt  confused.

“You know I love-”

“Don’t, don’t say it. Just keep walking.”  John’s words were angry but he reached out his hand and his wife held it.  He realized she was shaking and gave her a gentle squeeze.  The water touched his toes.  First a slight shock, then a relief as he felt the warm water flow up to his ankles.

“Time for you to learn how to swim, my sweet princess.”

John watched as his wife pulled their daughter under the waves.  At first Elsa tried to scream, but then she breathed, breathed like she had never breathed before.  Mommy helped her pull off her clothes that had wrapped around her new tail.  She looked at her Mommy and saw that she had pulled of her clothes and had a tail too.  The dye would last for a while, but soon her hair would have the streaks of sea green, just like Mommy.  She looked back at her Daddy and smiled, then put her hand in her Mommy’s hand and began to swim where John could never follow.

John thought that he should be crying now, but as he watched the sun rise all he could do was smile.

There was always something different about Betsy.

Mr. Tengu, the animal doctor, told me that Betsy’s momma, my Pa’s favorite horse, was hurt real bad in her tummy when Betsy was born, so bad that she couldn’t have any more little horsies. Betsy almost didn’t make it, but Mr. Tengu worked really hard and made it all better.

I think Pa was mad at the little white horse for hurting Silver Grace, her momma, so bad. I heard him calling her a good-for-nothing, and talking about getting rid of her, he was so mad. I wasn’t supposed to be, but I was peeping on them in the barn, and I ran in an told Pa that I’d take care of her all by myself, just don’t get rid of her. He looked real mad, I think I saw steam around his ears, but he grit his teeth and muttered something about me learning to be a man.

I thought the little white horse was the prettiest thing, even prettier than Silver Grace. Mr. Tengu said it would be a lot of work for one little boy, but he’d be by to help me. He slapped my Pa on the shoulder and they walked back to the house to wash up, leaving me in the barn.

I don’t know where the name Betsy came from, but the first thing I said to her was, “It’s ok, Betsy, Pa didn’t mean it. Besides, I’m gonna take good care of you, you’ll be all right.” She looked at me with her dark eyes, and her white face and I swear she nodded.

It’s a good thing Mr. Tengu was such a nice man, because I needed lots of help with Betsy. I guess Betsy’s momma was mad at her too because she wouldn’t nurse Betsy. I think a momma’s gotta be real mad to not feed her baby, but Mr. Tengu told me not to blame Silver Grace. I had to feed Betsy by hand, with a big baby bottle and these things that shot out goo. Betsy always ate it all and looked for more, but if I told her to shush she’d stop fussing. Problem was I was the only one she would listen to.

Betsy still tried to go to her momma, but Silver Grace would snort and kick at her, kick up such a fuss that Pa made me build Betsy her own stall outside the barn. It was fun, Pa even smiled when it was done and said I was fixing to be a good man. But when we were fetching Betsy she almost kicked Pa clear in the face and he stopped smiling. I put my arm around her neck and hollered at her, the first time I ever did and she went limp. Pa stormed out the barn and took off in his truck.

I pulled Betsy along harder than I had to but she didn’t fuss no more. When I got her into her private stall she shyly poked at me with her snout. I tried to be cross with her still, but I thought about how scared she must be, her Ma don’t like her, Pa don’t like her.

“It’s ok.” I hugged her close and she put her big neck over mine. “You’ve got me, and Mr. Tengu too. I wish I had my own little house, you like it?” Betsy glanced around and walked over to the grooming kit in the corner. I got my stool out and brushed her and fed her and stayed there with her till we both fell asleep. I woke up when I heard the door slam up at the house. Pa was back.

I kissed Betsy goodnight and walked up to the house. It was dark, I think I had been asleep for a few hours, more than enough time for Pa to get sussed.

“Hi, Pa,” I said as I walked inside.
“Mmm,” he muttered and scratched his chin as he poured some soda into a cup that was nearly full of rum.
“I’m sorry about Betsy. Pa. She was-”
“I dun care about yer horse.” He wasn’t hollerin’. It was bad when he was mad but didn’t holler.
“Get it, you know what.”
“Yes, Pa.”

I took my whoopin’ quietly, wasn’t no use arguing. Pa was too drunk to hit me too many times. I could smell the sweet and bitter smell of beer and rum when he leaned in and said, “Good, your a good little man. Now get out of my sight.”

Betsy got used to her new stall quickly, though I could tell she was lonely. I would run to see her as soon as I got home from school, clean up her stall and giver her a quick brushing. I took care of her and she took care of me. If I tried to take her for a walk before I did my homework she wouldn’t budge, even if I lied and said I didn’t have any, she knew. I would complain and she would keep walking back to my schoolbooks.

When I gave up and started doing my work Betsy would lean over me and look at my books , so I started wondering if a horse could learn to read. I found my old lessons and showed her ABCs and read really simple picture books, making sure she could see everything. Pa said I was wasting my time but I didn’t care and Betsy liked it all just fine.

Mr. Tengu thought it was great and told me that horses were very smart, and maybe they couldn’t read because nobody had ever taken the time to teach them. Betsy stomped her feet and nuzzled him and we all read a book together before Mr. Tengu tended to the rest of the animals. Pa was cross with Mr. Tengu for disagreeing with him about me and Betsy, but Mr. Tengu just smiled and went about his work.

Silver Grace was in better spirits with Betsy in her own private stall and had healed up real well. Mr. Tengu had wanted her to rest for a long while, but he said Pa could ride her again if he wanted, it had been six months. Pa was thrilled.

He took her out on her lead and got her strength back up over the next few weeks, smiling and talking to her quietly. He didn’t always smile though, I heard him sobbing sometimes when he walked her, just saying “Grace” over and over, and I knew he was thinking about Ma. Silver Grace was named after her, I think that’s why he was so mad at Betsy. it was like when she tore up SIlver Grace she tore up Ma too.

I had been halter training Betsy, although it wasn’t really much training, she trusted me and did whatever I told her. Maybe it was all the reading, but I think Betsy really knew words, not like other horses who can understand some things, I think she really knew what I was saying. I wanted to ride her but you can’t ride a horse for years, no matter how big they look. And Betsy was still small, though she was growing fast. She stayed pure white, except for two small spots on her back that were jet black.

Things were good for the next few months, but those spots on Betsy’s back were starting to worry Mr. Tengu. They were slowly getting bigger, spreading wider and wider on her hair. He couldn’t find anything wrong with them, he had never seen anything like it.

Pa had got Silver Grace back in shape and was riding her again. Pa had been a horse trainer, but was retired now. He loved riding and was really good, but would never teach me, ’cause what happened to Ma, but I was happy to see him riding again.

Mr. Tengu kept coming back to look at those spots and they were getting huge, size of flapjacks when they had started out the size of dimes. He had some expert take a look and ran all sorts of tests but they didn’t find anything either, though he took pictures for a book. He took pictures of me too.

Then the black spots turned into black bumps.

Next time Mr. Tengu came around he had another expert who scraped up part of Betsy to look at it. Mr. Tengu was worried about cancer, but I told him I took real good care of Betsy, fed her good, walked her, read to her. He told me that sometimes horses just get sick, like people, but that they were gonna make sure Betsy was ok.

One day Pa was walking Silver Grace as I was getting ready to walk Betsy and Silver Grace reared up when she saw her daughter and came down on Pa’s foot. His tough boots save him, but he got a nasty gash where the boot had cut into his foot and needed stitches. Mr. Tengu was the only one that came around any more, so I called him to drive Pa to the hospital. Pa limped back to the house and poured some alcohol on his foot then called me over.

I thought he wanted me to help, but he just said, “Teach you to be a man,” and clobbered me. I’d gotten whoopins with the paddle before, but Pa had never laid a hand on me. He punched me square in the face and I fell down, and started crying, i couldn’t help the hot tears, I was scared and mad, and sad. I heard Mr. Tengu at the door and ran to my room. When he and Pa were gone I went to see Betsy.

She was hiding in the corner of her stall, shaking. I reached up and pattered her gently, and stroked her back. The bumps felt even bigger than before, like they had grown since I had went back to the house to help Pa. I hugged her and cried until the tears went away and I just had the blubber and a drippy nose.

I got my sleeping bag and some grub and settled down in the stall with my horse. She lay down on her side and we fell asleep together, like the first night after I had finished building her private little house. Like last time, I woke up when I heard Pa come home, but this time I didn’t say hi to Pa; I stayed in the stall and pretended to be asleep.

A short while later I heard footsteps outside the stall. I scrunched up my eyes and held onto Betsy, my fingers in her mane. The footsteps came closer and stopped. I cracked an eye open, it was Mr. Tengu.

“What are you doing in here, son?”
“Just camping out with Betsy.”
“Is that all.” Mr. Tengu squatted down and looked at my face, shook his head and frowned. He never frowned.
“Yeah, I-”
“What happened to your face?”
“Betsy knocked me into the stall by accident.”
“Hmm, and I suppose this cut here, is from a nail?” I felt on my face and saw Pa’s fist slamming into me, and the his class ring before it sliced open my face.
“Yeah, it must have been a nail.”
“Well I just happen to have some cream for cuts like that in my pocket.” He smeared some greasy stuff on my face, then squeezed the back of my neck, it reminded me of something Ma would do.

Mr. Tengu stood up and smiled down at Betsy. “You take care of our boy here, Betsy, don’t let anybody hurt him. Goodnight, son, and if you have any more scrapes like that tell me right away.

I watched Mr. Tengu walk away, first towards his truck, then towards the house. He stopped at the foot of the steps, shook his had and frowned, then walked back to his truck. Betsy nuzzled me and I smiled as I stroked her mane and back. I swear her bumps were even bigger.

Pa wasn’t supposed to go out till his foot heeled, so he stayed on the couch all day polishing his saddles, watching tv and drinking. He didn’t apologize for hitting me, but he made a real bad face every time I walked in the room and I could tell he was looking at my eye. It was a face of disgust, I knew he felt bad, and it was wrong, but it was hard to be mad at Pa, he was all I had. Well, him and Betsy.

I kept up with Betsy’s training, waiting for the years to go by so I could ride her. Pa’s foot healed up and he started training with Silver Grace again, but this time it didn’t make him any happier. Something had broke in Pa, and nobody knew how to fix it.

Mr. Tengu came back and looked at the strange bumps and measured it with these spiky caliper things. He said it was growing faster and his expert friend took more pictures. They were stumped, but they said it didn’t seem like it was hurting her any, so I shouldn’t worry. It only bothered me cause I didn’t know if they could take a saddle. I couldn’t ride her for a few more years anyway, but I was already looking at saddles, looking for the perfect one to match me and Betsy.

Pa kept on riding, but he never smiled anymore. Never a real smile anyway, just that fake, there’s company smile when Mr. Tengu was around, and then just grumbles and scowls for me. I spent even more of my time with Betsy and we stopped eating together at all. I prayed for the weekends when he would drink at the bar instead of staying home. I was worried, ’cause I think I was starting to hate my Pa.

One weekend when Pa had left I took one of his saddles and fit it on Betsy. I didn’t tighten it, I just wanted to see what style might fit around her bumps, or how to make a custom saddle to fit. I doodled the design for the saddle then walked Betsy over to the barn, so I wouldn’t have to carry the saddle back. I was surprised to see Pa in the barn getting ready to go for a ride.

“I thought you left.”
“Just dropped the truck off, needs some work.”
“Oh, ok.”
“What are you doing in the barn?”
I walked over to a shelf and grabbed some ointment to keep flies away,
“I’m all out.”
“You think I’m stupid?”
“No.”
“You playing dress up with my saddle on the damn horse. . .”

Pa rode out of the barn but Silver Grace reared up when she saw Betsy. if he wasn’t drunk it wouldn’t have mattered, but he was. He slipped off the back and fell in the mud. I dropped the ointment and went to help him up, but he pushed me away and stood up on wobbly legs. He pulled of his duster and wiped the mud off and threw it down on the ground.

Pa walked over to Betsy and grabbed her by the bit. He jerked her over to me and I took her lead and slowly backed away from him. He smacked Silver Graces bottom and she walked back into the barn. I kept walking with Betsy, slowly, and heard Pa behind me, till he turned to go to the house. I was sniffling in Betsy’s stall when I heard his footsteps behind me and turned around to see Pa holding his shotgun out to me.

“Step away, killer.”
“Pa, no-”
“Step away, killer.”
I stood my ground and stayed in front of Betsy. Now I knew I hated my Pa, but it was ok ’cause he hated me.”
“You killed what I loved more than anything.” said Pa. “So now I’m gonna kill what you love more than anything.” Betsy pushed against me with her back, but I shoved her away.
“What are you talking about, Pa?”
“You killed my wife.”
“Ma died in a riding-”
“She didn’t.” He started crying but kept the gun level. “She didn’t die in a riding accident. We told you that so you wouldn’t feel bad. But all you do is make me feel bad so I don’t care anymore.”
“Pa-”
“You killed her, when you were born she died. Grace was all I ever had and you took her.”
“I’m sorry-”
“Shut up and stay shut up! You killed her, then this horse, this stupid horse with those bumps, she almost kills the my other Grace, my favorite because it was hers. And you give all your love to this monster.”

I almost said something but Pa scowled and I lost my nerve. I looked over his shoulder and saw a truck coming, It was Mr. Tengu, on another visit to see Betsy. Pa didn’t move.

Mr. Tengu pulled up to us and stepped out of his truck.
“John-”
“Get off my property.”
“Let’s talk-”
“NO TALK! Leave or i will shoot you for trespassing.” Pa swiveled the shotgun at Mr. Tengu.
“Fine, then John, but I’m talking the boy and Betsy.”
“Take the boy, leave the horse, we have business.”
“No, they both come with me, I’ll get the police if I have to.”
“Sure, sure, go ahead, get the police, see how they’ll help this.”

All hell broke loose.

Pa fired his shotgun at Mr. Tengu, Betsy knocked me to the ground, the saddle flew off and knocked Pa to the ground And those bumps. those strange bumps. sprouted into tremendous beautiful black wings. Betsy and I locked eyes for an instant before I leapt to her back and we were in the air. Free. No Ma, no Pa, no Mr. Tengu. Just me and Betsy and the wind.

This idea comes from my friend Ashley. She said:

Think of 30 different mystical creatures and every day write a story with that one creature. . . mermaids, faeries, goblins, unicorns. . . as many as you can find and make sure you don’t repeat any, every day has to be a new one.

That sounds like a splendid idea to me, the first story will be posted tomorrow, but I am open to suggestions. What’s your favorite mystical creature?

I am happy to say that I have not missed my daily goal of walking for at least thirty minutes each day.  WOOT!

I’m already addicted, seriously, I look forward to my daily walk and the time i gives me to reflect, meditate and breathe.  It’s nice to have something finite that you can measure and say, “I did it; its done.”  I wish I had an exact measure of the distance, but to squeeze my walk in on Saturday I had to walk around my friend’s neighborhood, and I didn’t quite keep track of the street names to look them up later.  Also, today I had to combine walking time with lawn-mowing time.  I know lawn-mowing isn’t quite constant movement, but it ended up talking 45 minutes, (and the mower isn’t self-propelled) so I think it still counts. Let’s low-ball it and say I only walked 1.6 miles a day, based on my original known route. Including today, thats.s 12.8 miles and 240 minutes that would have been spent doing probably anything but walking. Oh, I did go swimming this weekend also, but I find that my life has become far too sedentary.

I have to go shower up, it’s only 85 today, but I’m still sticky as hell from being outside. At least I don’t smell like Bleach Sweat Metal.

Thirty Days of Walking
An Experiment in Well-Being
by AJ Mars

As I finally near the end of the 30 Days of Boredom, after more than six months, I am left with the task of creating a new experiment.  Day 29 was about sleep, and I did not sleep last night.  It was not so bad though, for I had slept much of the preceding day.

So, not having slept through the night, but very much awake this morning, aided by some Red Bull, I embarked on a 30 minute walk.  I have never been in great shape, nor have I been an avid exerciser, though I do find the machine of the human body fascinating, and the disputes over its best care and maintenance nauseating.

Today I am a 28-year-old male, weighing 238 lbs and standing 5’ 7”.  I could lie and say I don’t care about my looks, but merely want to be in better health, but despite claiming less of an interest in my appearance than most of the world, I actually find my shape frustrating and insulting.  I don’t think it is a stretch to say that others don’t take me as seriously as I would like because I am fat; I appear a bit too jolly for my tastes.

However, this is not a weight-loss blog, nor a diet blog, not even a personal empowerment blog.  This is an experiment in discipline, mind, and creativity.  30 Days of Walking is an experiment to hone my body and mind, to improve the clarity of my concentration through the lens of physical exertion.  For the next 30 Days I must walk for 30 minutes every morning.  I may do other exercises, but I must do my 30 minutes of walking.  I do not have to write about this every day, but  I must make at least one report per week.  Let’s make the mandatory check-in day Tuesday, for consistency.

On this first day I feel quite good.  My start time for the day was 5:30 am.  I had a nice shower before heading on my walk, in a pair of shorts, tee-shirt, beat up boots and a hoodie on top.  I would have worn some jogging pants I bought years ago, but my closet collapsed and I haven’t  quite fixed it yet, so some of my clothes are a bit buried at the moment.  I probably could have skipped the hoodie, but it’s been a bit rainy and I still have the death throes of a cold on me.  Despite a few shin splints the walk went pretty well, I did a loop from the bottom of my driveway around a long curvy road and back through to my house from a development on the edge of the property.  I had a little time left over, so I had to make another lap through a section of the development.

Overall it was excellent, though I think I may switch the walk and the shower tomorrow.  It’s just now turning 7am and despite being a bit sweaty I am relatively clean, shaved, and had my breakfast.  Now for the rest of the day. . .

30 Days of Boredom-Day Twenty-Nine
An Experiment in Writing
By AJ Mars

Sleep. A whore of gross intentions, a needed drug, and lonely friend. If I do not sleep, I am not well, but sleep too much and I am nothing.

Life starts between the sheets and ends with a shroud. The man that was your grandfather is not dead, but peacefully sleeping, only this bed has a door. Grandpa has gone to final sleep and must not be disturbed.

What might we do without the need for sleep? Would we live a life a third more full? Would these stolen hours, if we were to somehow reclaim them, lead us to the unanswered questions of life and love? Perhaps the change in thought brought about by increasing exhaustion is helpful to the mind. The call to sleep is both a challenge and a gentle tug towards relaxation; with dreams inspired thoughts may rise, as also the verge of exhaustion clarifies the mind to the power of the will.

Slumber is a poor lover, but a good friend. I seek eternity in a lover, but simple strength in a friend. I wish to perpetually fall deeper into the embrace of my beloved, and closer to the truth with my friend. Of course I seek truth in and strength in my beloved, but that of friends bears a different mark, a coarser lens, and more rugged grasp.

So, slumber is a poor lover, but only for the living. For the dead she is all that one can ask for, with her sweet-rot kisses, and grave dust touch, she pulls me through the vortex to the Endless Light beyond the Abyss.

30 Days of Boredom-Day Twenty-Eight
An Experiment in Writing
By AJ Mars
Introduction to a tale of Dreamer’s Pain

In the suburbs of America live aching souls that yearn for
wonder. Every day a little crack widens further, every year the
chasm gets a little bigger, between truth and desire.

Let us observe one of these achers, a half-broken person living adrift in dreams, in close detail. Let us give him the fake name of John.

An Experiment in Writing
By AJ Mars

A boy born into hatred realized he doesn’t have to live that way today.  He is scared, uncertain again, as he was before he made the land of hatred his own, but his quaking spirit begins to let him see the soft consolation of loving strangers and the truth of random acts of kindness.

Today, a girl realized she is pretty and kind, and that she really doesn’t care what anybody thinks she should be doing with those looks.  She will not hide her beauty, but neither will she let it be ALL she is.
Today was an ordinary day.

Sometimes I remember those quiet moments; one might even call them moments of love.  I might be tempted to call it by the name of beauty instead, but it seems one often elicits the other in the observer.

During one of those quiet moments I simply watched her breathe:  the coiling snake of muscles descending in a smooth wave made the moment seem all the quieter.  But there was not complete silence; a tiny motion in her nose as the air rushed in sounded like the smallest ocean wave.  It is ridiculous the beauty that is contained in one breath, the sense of peace it may contain.  Though it is easier to see this grace in the breath of those we love, I believe that if one looks close enough, it may be seen in every breath from every one.

Sing to me the stories of the great people, said to be divine, and yet people still.

Sing to me the stories of the wicked people, said to be demons, and yet people still.

Sing to me such stories as would make the word tremble, with delight and fear, with grief and rapture.

In the golden land of Evandime there lived a two-eyed serpent, Green.  She coiled and recoiled over what were to her but large rocks, but were mountains to the people.  Some say she once bore the shape of a woman, others that she bears it still, sometimes walking among them,

In the land of Evandime they love the serpent Green.

“Mother,” they say, “let thy coils be our shields, let they breath be our warmth, and let thy wisdom persevere.”

The simple folk of Evandime praise her in the fields, singing songs as sweet as lullabies, yet invigorating too.

“Oh serpent, Green,” they gently scream, a piercing hammer blow.

“Please bless my crops, Lady of Rocks, send peace to us below.”