I hope you enjoy today's entry as we feature another secret for your enjoyment, thrills, chills, and possibly appalling reactions. I tried to keep it under 500 words for each day's entry. Come see what we have in store for you today in a fictional character's own words...
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Title: Silent Whispers
Title: Silent Whispers
As the quest for the totems continue, my sisters and I continue to work. It’s good for taking one’s mind off the darkness looming, and well, we do have a business to run. But with every sketch and each set of calculations, I’m reminded what I know. What I can never tell them.
I’ve designed a castle for a vampire and a lab for a mad scientist. Needless to say, I meet a lot of strange people on the job. Yet none were odder than a medicine woman named Putyuk.
I flew out to the Aleutians to her cabin nestled on a tiny island. She wanted me to design her a new home, one with access to the ocean from underneath. Maybe she was an aquatic shifter or a mermaid. I didn’t ask why.
Putyuk was older than me, maybe in her fifties, and with a lovely face full of squirrely wonder. I took measurements of the site, factored in the rise and fall of the tides as well as the wicked Alaskan weather, and showed her some designs I had drawn which might work.
She gathered all the papers and threw them into the air. The wind whipped them up and around, and she twirled as if dancing with an unseen partner. Only one landed on the spot of the site, and without looking, she handed it to me. That was the design she chose.
The spirits, Putyuk said, knew what’s better for the land than she. She could hear them sometimes in the trees, the rocks, and the waves.
Like I heard whispers. Peeks into the past, random present thoughts, and things that will come. I asked if she understood them. Not adding that I often did not.
Putyuk got this little smile, not the mischievous sort, but that of one besotted. She replied she didn’t always understand them, but it was like learning a new language. Her grandmother taught her, and one day in her early twenties, Putyuk fell in love with a tree. She spent many years with it, until loggers chopped it down. She bought the wood with which she would build her new home.
She turned to me with sad eyes, and I was ready to hug her, give her comfort. Instead she told me I, too, would fall in love with wood. My family would become wood, and I mustn’t let the old one take them away. I would lose them all.
At the time, it was a crazy woman’s story. Now, I know she spoke the truth. I didn’t stop my family or my boyfriend from accepting the totems. It was my fault. I might lose them all if I don’t stop the old one. But how does one fight a god?
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