Foster's World

Frankie dove into the cold clear river. The water was fresh and exhilarating. She had only been an average swimmer before, more prone splashing about aimlessly than forward movement, but now it was like she was flying through the foam. It seemed only moments before she could stand up on the small island with the single tree and the prone body of the little boy.

“Mac!” she ran to him.

His eyes flickered briefly, then closed.

His breathing was shallow and labored. She kissed his forehead. He was burning up. Something strange in her vision. She could see the sickness in him. Feel it, it was alike a physical assault on her senses. “The underwear!” Everyplace the underwear touched was like a wrongness. She touched his t-shirt. It was stuck to his body, she tried to peel it back, separate it from touching his skin. A strip of flesh came off in her hand. She recoiled in horror. His flesh burned her.

“The water!” she thought. She’d take him down to the river, float the underwear off of him. She tried to pick him up. She had carried him before, many times. She couldn’t lift him now. His arms and legs were normal, but it was like he was wearing weights. She tried to get him to stand. Impossible.

He needed water. There was nothing on the beach she could use, no shells. She looked down at her naked body, wishing she had something she could carry water in. Her nudity was a surprise for a moment. “Pockets?” she thought. Then “What are pockets?” She was too far to carry water in her hands so she pressed her face to river and took a large mouthful of water.

She pressed her lips to his, coaxing him to drink. He swallowed a bit and choked. Spluttered. “Fran…?” then closed his eyes. She tried again, forcing water into him. He vomited it up. No good. She could literally see the life slipping from his body.

She cradled his face against her bare breasts and rocked him, crying for him. If that’s all she could for him in his last minutes, that’s what she would do.

 “Oh, land sakes girl, use your head!”

A mist had risen, the figure of a small old woman appeared somewhere in the distance. White hair in an impossibly high bun looking through owlish spectacles. Her body was indistinct in the fog, but her face was clear. Somehow familiar.

Frankie cried, “Can you help him?”

“No dear, not like this.” Then, “The tree dearie, he needs to eat the fruit. Starts the whole damned thing off. This part of the story always starts with a nice piece of fruit, dear.”

Frankie gently laid Mac down, approached the tree. The fruit had somehow faded in the night, was smaller, darker, less fresh than before. She took the pear over to the boy; he was too sick to bite it. She broke off a piece in her mouth and chewed it for him, it was good, but not as good as before. It had lost something. Gently leaning his head back, she placed a small well chewed piece in his mouth. He coughed and spit it out.

Frankie looked around for another, fresher fruit, but this was the only one. She hadn’t seen any others like this since yesterday morning.

Desperate, she looked up. The old lady was closer now.

“Should have expected that, sorry dear.”

 “Can we save him? Please.”

The old lady considered for a moment, then brightened. “The seeds dear, the seeds. Quickly before they fade. Find them, chew them, all of them. Hurry child!”

Frankie found 3 or 4 seeds and popped them in her mouth. There had been more but they must have faded away. They were bitter, terrible, she wanted to spit them out. She gagged, but continued chewing. She swallowed. She was dizzy, she felt her body changing.

“Sometimes there is bitter with the sweet. Sorry, but that’s the way things are sometimes.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this. My fault, but it will all be OK in the end. I promise dear. My time here is ending. You’ll sleep for a little while, but when you wake up, you’ll know what you must do.” The old lady took her cane and pressed the tip to Frankie’s breasts. There was a burning sensation for a moment.

Frankie’s eyes began to close. She mumbled dreamily. “Do I know you? You seem so familiar… Grandma? I’m so sorry… fire…”

“Hush, dearie! It will all be fine in the end.”

Frankie slept. In her sleep she crawled to the river, drank deeply of the water.

And changed.

Drank some more.

Changed some more.

When Adam and Eve ate of the forbidden fruit, they knew their nakedness, knew shame. They were driven from Paradise.

The Goddess was having none of that!

In her sleep, Frankie felt the words that the Goddess had engraved on her heart when she came to this land.

   “You have been given beautiful flesh that will neither wither or fade. 

   “Rejoice in your beautiful bodies.

   “Cover them not!

    “Adorn them if you will, but proudly display your bodies to each other in beauty & joy.

    “Sing and dance! Laugh & cry.

    “Love each other in beauty and joy.

For their transgression, God told Eve "I will make your pains in childbearing very severe; with painful labor you will give birth to children.”

The Goddess was having none of that!

“You will bring forth your children in joy and love, fear not conception nor labor.

“Remember, you are surrounded by love.

“Trust in your love.

“Love each other in beauty and joy.

God said to them, “Your desire shall be contrary to your husband, but he shall rule over you Let a woman learn quietly with all submissiveness. I do not permit a woman to teach or to exercise authority over a man; rather, she is to remain quiet…

The Goddess was certainly having none of that!

“There are tasks to perform, work to be done.

“Share the tasks, build together.

“Share the load, pull together,

“Make your games and play together.

“Sing and dance. Together.

“Trust in your love. Together.

“Love each other in beauty and joy.