"Keep Me Warm"

 

We sat on the porch under a red, fading sky, with a blanket drawn over our shoulders. I felt the heat spill out from the cracks that split the pavement like open sores.

"It feels so fucking stupid to be cold right now," she whispered. "Keep me warm. Please."

I pulled the edges of the blanket together, over her arms, over the spots where she no longer had skin to cover her.

"Moving and Shaking"

 

The sign read "No Beverages," and Caroline knew she wouldn't be able to make it to the car and back before the interview. She poured the last of her coffee onto the lawn and then flung the cup into the can nearby. Instantly the ground began to shake. "Coffee," came a voice as deep as clay, "oh, my God, finally." And so began the morning.

"Ribbon"

Imagine if it had been a belt that made me call Jormungand to mind, and what that would mean for the poor sap who unbuckled his belt on the way to the washroom.

 

In Norse mythology, Jormungand, the Midgard Serpent, grew so large that he was able to wrap  around Earth's fat middle like a belt and bite his own tail. According to the Norse, the world is bound by Jormungand's body; the day he releases his tail is the day the world will end.

Oddly enough, it wasn't the sight of a belt that made me think of Jormungand. It was a picture of a ribbon tied around a package, holding in the surprise, and the idea that someone, upon receiving a beautifully wrapped gift, might think of Midgard and hesitate a second before undoing the bow.

"Preservation"

 

The guide led her tourists along a path that weaved its way up the face of the cliff like a snake ascending a brick wall. At the summit, she brought them to stand next to a great brazier, encased in stone, the top of which met most of the people just above eye level.

"Braziers like this one were used in the eleventh and twelfth centuries almost like altars," she explained. "During religious ceremonies, fires for the gods were built inside of them, and sad to say, often times as part of the ceremony, a live animal or even a human being was thrown into the fire for a sacrifice." Most of the tour group groaned; a few people shuddered. One man off to the side said, "Cool."

The tour guide crept toward the group and slightly lifted her head. "Would you believe," she whispered, "that this brazier is still in use today?" She stepped back and lifted her hand, palm up, toward the structure; a middle-aged man took the cue. He stood on his toes and peeked over the rim. The rest of them did the same. 

The brazier's bowl was filled not with bones or body parts but with soil, rich and brown, adorned with flecks of glossy minerals. In the center a colony of plants had started to grow. Small though the plants were, their essential structures had begun to take form, and they were distinctive: leaves like folded circles, stems like musical horns, fruits like jugs of water hanging from a hook.

"The Department of Preservation has been using the braziers as demo gardens for some of the native plant species that are facing a loss of resources," the guide said with a smile. "As we continue our hike, you'll see more of these brazier gardens, and I'll also be able to point out the plants in their natural habitat along the way." She gestured toward the next segment of the path, and most of the group headed toward it, except for one young man, the man who had said, "Cool." He remained peering over the edge of the bowl.

"These plants," he said as the guide approached him. "Aren't they all carnivorous?"

"Ah, you're very smart," said the guide, who bent down, grabbed him by the ankle, and hoisted him head first into the brazier. A growl, low like the wind, rustled the bodies of all the little plants inside. But the guide put her finger to her lips as she walked away. "The sand pits are next on the tour," she called ahead to the group. "Be sure not to go too far without me."

"Askew"

 

"That streetlamp over there," the man said, pointing at a decorative lighting fixture on the other side of the road, "is leaning way too far over, don't you think?"

Its metal body jutted a few feet into the roadway space, like a thrillseeker seeing how far she could lean over a cliff, whereas normally it stood a few feet taller and vertical, like a poet enjoying the view. "That could be an issue," the woman acknowledged.

"Someone should probably be called about that," the man said. He took his phone with him into another room but returned twenty minutes later, banging the phone against his forehead.

"I was on hold for, like, fifteen minutes," he informed her. "I finally got someone who connected me to another department, who said they'd place the request for repair in the appropriate crew's work queue, but I could expedite the request if I came in and filled out form jay-one-six-I-don't-freaking-know."

The woman nodded in response and went outside. The man looked on as she lay on her belly on the path leading to their porch, with her head close to the stones that filled in their landscaping. "If you could talk to your friends underneath, please?" she said.

"Not a problem," said a voice that came from the cluster of stones. Instantly the earth below them gave a shudder, and the shudder rippled across the street like a wave in the pond. The man and the woman watched as the ground around the streetlamp churned, pushing the pole upright.

The woman sat up on the walkway and the man came outside to sit next to her. "Sometimes it's just a matter of knowing how you can best make change happen," she said. "I mean, to be fair, that office you called is really good with the water bills." They saw a utility truck drive by them, zipping past the decorative lamp that the earth had stood straight.