Saturday, November 12, 2011

A Parable

On the beach at San Creola
--the very one where the famous Miracle occurred--
A little boy cries because a sea bird has stolen his candy.

If he were older,
He would curse the bird colorfully and with passion;
But if he were older,
What confection could matter so much?

Suddenly, the child senses someone near.
He looks up, a fresh-faced little ball of innocence, tears, and snot;
And sees a lady--
It is the Saint herself!
The beautiful and wise Saint Creola!

"Once upon a time,"
Says the saint, carefully blowing her cigarette smoke off to one side,
"There was a greedy sea gull."
Saint Creola wears a black dress,
A silver cross,
And a shawl,
Yet even by Divine standards, the woman is hot.
This is truth. 
She continues.
"This gull stole so much candy from the local children,
That its fine white feathers turned to sugar.
'Foolish bird,'
Scolded an old woman,
'Now you can never return to the sea.'
And with that, she caught him and kept him inside of a sugar bowl,
So that he could never steal candy again."

This is why, over the doorway to the girls' school at San Creola,
There is a seal,
Composed of a white bird with its beautiful wings spread above a gleaming and holy sugar bowl.

The little boy, despite being visited by the Saint,
Can never attend.
He is a boy.
Tough rocks, Butch,
You will have to wait for a mixer when you're older.
On that day, you can approach one of the girls as our beloved Creola once approached you,
And you can ask her to dance.
She may refuse you,
Or she may pluck your offered heart high into the air and spin with it
Like a pilfered trifle.

for Real Toads fairy tale prompt


Lolamouse said...

Oh, the great St. Creola is so wise and wonderful! And she was kind enough not to blow her smoke directly in the little boy's face too! I'm so glad to see her return!

Sioux said...

St. Creola's reappearance is indeed cause for celebration. If you told me you weave these tales drunk, or having nibbled on a magic mushroom, I would feel a little less envious. And pissed off.

I'm doing NaNoWriMo and since I am decidedly NOT a novelist, this is a difficult endeavor. Since I am almost 12,000 words behind right now, perhaps you could loan me one of your Spirits? Just until the end of the month, I promise...

Kerry O'Connor said...

You have created a legend all your own here, Shay. The blend of arcane and profane really made me smile. I'm so glad you took on both pics.

Dave King said...

This has great imaginative power. Really great writing. A delight to read.

Lisa said...

Well, i don't know what kind of insanity would compel me to deprive myself of your delicious writing all this time. I think of you often, and I miss you. You're a special lady. Your piece will be the last thing I read before I sleep. As it should be. xx

Anonymous said...

Is she the patron saint of rabbits? Think she'd listen to my prayers anyway? I'm ready to dump my man for solitude anyway.

hedgewitch said...

The tongue in cheek is delightful, but somehow the idea of the mysteries it's skating over still come through--the heart is a mystery, and is all too often pilfered. Those who exist by stealing that tasty emotional reservoir *are* turned into something by it--sugar would not be my metaphor for it, but let that go. ;-) I love the ending, as another small boy is indoctrinated and warped---er...given the religious facts of life---by St. Crayola.

Mama Zen said...

I adore Saint Creola!

Anonymous said...

i love to pilfer trifles ~ they're so good in scrambled eggs.
{grin} ♥