Tag: Illustration

Christmas | Mrs. Clause – Let me present myself

~ 7seasonsago ~ Leave a comment

IMG_0153 copyMrs. Clause sat at her desk surveying the enormity of her empire from the top turret of the their castle as she replaced a button on her husbands suit. She was distracting herself from her real chore today. How was she going to break the news to Kai? How would dear Santa respond?

The elves would be coming home soon – home to the Clause’s Winter Castle. It was a beautiful place designed by intricate math. It had once belonged to the Snow Queen. But, elves knew nothing of this history and so there were no thoughts of it as they made their way from the secular world soon after thanksgiving for their pilgrimage back home to the North Pole. Over the course of the month Santa would give them their assignments for the New Year. Hundreds of them would be home for the holidays. At the end of the month long reunion, Santa would get in his sleigh pulled by the infamous reindeer and would deliver them on Christmas day to their posts around the world.

Elves did make toys, but not in the way most people thought. Elves spent the whole year being the spirit that inspired humans to make things – toys for kids, toys for adults, and even toys for animals. Through the years they had inspired great innovation and imparted much frivolity. Their spirit of Christmas motivated everything from cell phones to video games to chew toys – anything that allowed creatures to play. Elves were good at play. While they hadn’t invented it, they had certainly reinvented it.

All this activity was necessary in their work in reversing the effects of the Snow Queen. The industrial activity needed to create these many toys had increased the temperature of the earth and had brought them several degrees from the Queens long winter – or the mini-ice age as educated people now called it. After Kai and she had conquered the Queen they had created this mythology of Christmas to facilitate their work.

Their defeat of the queen had brought them together in a union of marriage.   While they were developing their plan, their love became manifest and Mrs. Clause gave birth to several children; elves, elves that were always born on Christmas day. After a long night of tirelessly delivering Christmas all around the world, Santa would come home to witness the miracle of mother with child.

As elementals themselves, the first time she became pregnant, they weren’t sure what they would give birth to. They had been delighted to have created such clever creatures born to bless others with creativity and play. These creatures, elves, could inspire with just their presence. The gifts of their children had turned the stress of their work into play. Elves had invented the Christmas Spirit. They will be the saviors of the world they had joked. It had seemed appropriate to tie their myth to the birth of The Savior.

It was several hundred years into their work now and the earth had warmed. Some would say too much. Where the bitter cold of the Snow Queen had once claimed lives of entire villages, the reverse was becoming true and heat now seemed to threaten.

When Kai and Gerda had claimed their victory over the Snow Queen, they had taken her castle and contained her in it. A spell had been placed on the Queen diminishing her power allowing her limited access to the world. She was an immortal like themselves so there was no way to destroy her for ever. Gerda Clause now looked hesitantly towards the part of the castle she was contained in. Was it time to free her? Could she be contained if given more power? Was their work for naught?

Gerda rubbed her tummy feeling the presence of the new elf to be born in less than a month when Santa found her in her tower.

“What is it my dear? You look troubled.”

Mrs. Clause took Santa’s hand gently into her own. “I fear I will never have flowers in my garden.” She said sadly. “Summer must never reach us.”

Dancer – Suburban Beach Gypsy

~ 7seasonsago ~ Leave a comment

DancerShe was on the run. Traveling as fast as she could, she had taken a job on the other side of the country.  Two weeks from now (at forty-seven years old) she would start her new position as the VP of Science at a Biotech start up and planned to be busy forgetting everyone she used to know.  Not that she had much choice.  Six months earlier she had diagnosed herself with frontotemporal dementia.  Dr. Claudette Deering was on the run from herself.

Two years ago she had started to notice changes in her mood.   At first it seemed a euphoric second youth had taken her.  Everything was more intense.  Food had more flavor.  Music moved her like a school girl.  Even colors had more depth – like poetry.  However, the science part of her had started to calculate the changes and was busy translating the behavior in to symptoms – symptoms that were familiar to her as a doctor.  A small part of her brain had quietly started documenting her behavior flagging them for her conscience mind.  She started keeping a journal of her days, her interactions, and behaviors.

When she felt she had enough evidence, she had her suspicions confirmed by a colleague under the pretense of seeking advice for a patient. FTD, her friend, colleague, and fellow neurologist had confirmed.  “The last item you shared confirmed it for me.  I would have to see the patient for myself to make a formal diagnosis, but this clearly shows the patient’s lack of empathy and loss of interpersonal skills.”  The last item had also confirmed it for Claudette.  It was the recounting of a moment she had experienced with an employee of hers.  She had been talking to the employee and while they were speaking she had picked up a picture on the employees desk to examine it and then had started to poke holes in the faces with a pin she had freed the photograph from that had kept the picture attached to the employees pin board.

Later that day, while she was updating her journal, she had recalled the incident. While she was not upset by her behavior,  she did understand that this was proof she had been looking for.

There was no use seeking a second opinion formally and having herself subjected to a battery of tests. The doctor was sure to revoke her license immediately and start the process towards putting her on long term disability.  She would then be pressured to give power of attorney to her closest relative – in this case her daughter.  Her life as she knew it would be over.  As a neurologist she was well aware of the changes she was going to face and the loss of freedom that would come with them.  She was determined to make the most of the small time she had to still be her.

She had found a new job in a field unrelated to her expertise and had promptly moved across the country. No one would be able to track her decline.  No one would be able to call her out on loss of knowledge.  No one would be able to observe a dramatic change in behavior; because… no one would know her.

Tonight she was still free. She sat under the starry sky on the tailgate of her Chevrolet Suburban watching the fire she had made at her camp near Bodega Bay in California.  The beach was about 20 miles from Santa Rosa – the city of her new job.  Her condo didn’t close escrow until a week from now and her new career would start a week after.  For seven days she would enjoy the anonymousness of being a suburban beach gypsy.  For the first time in her life, she was unconcerned about what would happen next.  She did not have a daughter to raise, she did not have patients to attend to, she did not have a board to answer to.  Ironically, with everything going for her, she didn’t have much of a future.  She was living in the moment.  She spun around in glorious abandonment.

“Nice moves”, she heard from a voice in the dark. A young man entered the perimeter of her light with a banjo in hand.  “There is a drum circle tonight at the beach in celebration of Mistress Luna”, he said pointing at the full moon gracing the sky.   “Care to join me?”

Claudette briefly wondered how much of the night cover had disguised her age. But she felt young, impulsive, and carefree – all symptoms of her disease her mind amusedly reminded her.  “I would love to” she replied.

 

Carabinieri – Fancy Dress

~ 7seasonsago ~ 5 Comments

article CA light was on in the living room which was why Dr. Zain Uddin Khan found himself peering in through the pocket doors that separated it from the dining room on his way to a fancy dress party. He and two friends were going as a sort of Italian three musketeers in fancy dress Carabinieri uniforms.  He had worn this costume once before  and had been delighted to find out that it offended people as at first glance it was mistaken for a Nazi uniform.  Not that he was sympathetic to the detestable Nazi dogma but he occasionally enjoyed putting people on edge.  It was satisfying to sporadically turn the tables.

As a Muslim doctor who worked tirelessly for the community, there was a constant expectation that he take the higher ground in the face of relentless insensitivity and sometimes downright discrimination. The costume represented a sort of social rebellion.  It called people out on their ignorance and highlighted the ultimate outcome of ignorance.

As he peered into the unusually illuminated room, he saw the culprit curled up on the couch. It was his son home from his adventures as a street urchin.  The fog had swept in to chill the evening and so Zain tucked his son Kyle in with the luxurious sitting room throw – placed neatly in the room for just such an occasion.  He stopped to admire his son in that warm paternal way known only to fathers which starts with a tingle in the head and scalp and moves slowly down the spine.

He wished he would stop this street performing nonsense and go back to school, but he understood why he did not. In his last year of high school a hysterical girl had overheard a chance statement by a momentarily frustrated Kyle said with the drama and exaggeration of youth.  “I’m going to blow this place up”.

Apparently this had been enough to activate the powers of Home Land Security and as Kyle had recently turned 18 they had apprehended him and incarcerated him and then proceeded to raid Dr. Khan’s house. Thank God years of being detained at customs for hours on end when returning to his country from foreign lands was a routine experience he had accustomed himself to.  It had trained him to remain calm through the whole humiliating crisis.   While the best lawyers that money could provide had sorted the authorities out within the week, the damage had been done.

In interviews from now on, how was he to honestly answer the question “have you ever been arrested”? Was he to tell the truth and say “Yes, I was mistakenly taken for a terrorist once but the charges were dropped and my record expunged”.  While this statement was certainly a conversation starter, it wasn’t the sort of thing that put you at the top of any desirable list.  Was his son to learn to lie?  What was his moral obligation?

Zain still hoped that his son would find himself. His mother might have found a way to fix it, he thought assuredly.  While her death had allowed him to live a life and explore a part of himself he probably wouldn’t have, he missed her acutely right now.

Doctors – The Doctor will see you now

~ 7seasonsago ~ Leave a comment

IMG_9653Ryan walked into the office of the anesthesiologist, Dr. Kahn, still high from securing a date with Taura. He was a great believer in kismet. Seeing her twice in 24 hours had convinced him to seize the moment. He had asked her to go to coffee with him when they saw each other again at the register of the flower shop after just running into each other over forget-me-nots.

He still remembered the first time he had seen her. It was at a club that Thomas had taken him to. They were in the disco section and “Got to be Real” was booming through the speaker system. She was dancing on a box in a mini-dress. The hem of her skirt was coming undone on the same side that one of her thigh high boots was being held together by a safety pin. With the thump of the music urging her on and the spotlights crisscrossing through the dancers (as if looking for her), at that moment, she was the most glamourous thing he had seen in real life. Thomas had noticed the same undoing-s and had remarked “poor thing, she’s falling apart”. “Hot”, Ryan had agreed.

As the nightclub had been a gay one, he had assumed she was a transsexual or at least a drag queen (she had been too hot to be a girl) and he had been sad for days after – wishing she weren’t a boy. A few days later he had run into her again at a coffee shop and was standing behind her as she gave her order. He had been relieved that there was nothing manly about her voice. It had come out pure glorious female.

She had seemed surprised at first when he asked her to coffee at the register of the flower shop. As a soap opera star he was used to that. It was harder than you would think for him to get a date with a quality woman. Then he remembered that the last person she had seen him with was Marie at the flamenco competition. Whom, he remembered with amusement had not even had the slightest inkling of his celebrity and had treated him like a side kick instead of the romantic lead he actually was… all evening long.

“Oh,” he said quickly with a little embarrassment “if you are worried about that woman from last night, that was just a friend of Thomas’ that stopped by unannounced. There’s nothing happening there.” He explained with the help of some hand gestures.

“Oh,” she countered “Where’s Thomas?” she asked.

“He took a gig and will be gone for a few months.”

“You must be… sad?” she asked with curiosity that seemed odd but that he couldn’t quite place.

“Not really, he’s a great friend, but it’s nice to have a place to myself. I have a roommate in Los Angeles as well – that’s where I work you know.” Taura had declined coffee but had given him her number inquiring whether he enjoyed croissants or not. She had heard of a new bakery where the croissants were supposed to be their signature bake.

“I have plans this weekend, but I’m free Monday.” Coincidentally, so was he. He didn’t have to be back in LA until Wednesday.

Ryan felt like he was skipping all the way to Dr. Khan’s office. Dr. Khan and Thomas had dated briefly but long enough for Ryan and him to become friends. Ryan played a Doctor on TV and Dr. Khan was one. He was always giving Ryan advice on how to realistically portray surgery. That’s why he was here today. He had some questions.

When the receptionist came to get him, he wanted to confess that he had a bad case of love and needed to stay in bed all weekend, but it seemed inappropriate.

“The Doctor will see you now” she said.

Geisha – Many Lakes; Many Rivers

~ 7seasonsago ~ Leave a comment

IMG_9469Taura was at the flower market selecting the best blooms in preparation for her sisters’ arrival for their girls’ weekend. Ryoko was flying in from Los Angeles and she would pick her up at the airport tonight. Momoko was driving from her foothills farm and would either accompany her to the airport or meet them at Taura’s house depending on traffic into the city.

She caught something out of the corner of her eye and looked up to see Ryan waiving at her. She was surprised to see him so soon after running into him at a flamenco event just last night. He had been with a very beautiful woman she remembered with the jealousy you feel towards all people who might be considered more attractive than you. She dismissed the thought and smiled and waved back.

It didn’t matter what ever woman Ryan was with because she was pretty sure the dashing soap opera star was gay. At least she assumed so as he was usually seen with an equally attractive flamboyant dancer.

Funny how she was always running into him – this was the joy and sorrow of living in San Francisco. Sometimes you found yourself living parallel with strangers. So much so that you might assume that you actually knew them. Last year she had started a parallel course with Ryan and after the 5th time randomly seeing each other (this time in line at a coffee shop) he had introduced himself to her.

They had just begun a conversation when his dancer friend had cut them off as he simultaneously seized his coffee from Ryan’s hand and gave Taura a death stare. She could almost visualize him breaking a bottle and threatening her with it saying something like “I’ll cut you!” The term “cock-blocked” came to mind as she suppressed a giggle waving them good-bye and watching them depart to their morning.

“Those are beautiful”, he remarked bringing her back to the present.

“Thank you, my sisters are visiting for a girl’s weekend and we are going to spa, then dress up, arrange them, have tea, and perform for each other. It’s part of our ritual”, she said surprised at herself for her casualness at discussing personal information with a stranger. Ryan must have thought so to because he just stood there for a second trying to come up with a response.

“Wow, I now actually know something about you…” he said with amusement. “You’re no longer just a single stream I occasionally cross”

“No” Taura flirted back “Many lakes; many rivers” she tossed out trying her best at eastern wisdom and mystery. She seized her cue and exited taking her flowers to the cashier – Hoping (wishing?) he was enjoying the view as she walked away.

Dancers – Don’t Sickle

~ 7seasonsago ~ Leave a comment

68183c99-a2e5-43a6-9287-85bb2257068b.jpegThomas sat sewing the elastic straps to his technique shoes on the hard stage of the empty theater. The cold ran right from the floor through the thin fabric of his warm up clothing chilling his underweight body – even more than the morning air. Morning – if you could call 11:30 morning. Let’s face it. This town was just fucking cold he thought with resignation. He wasn’t even sure where he was. He hadn’t used his passport in a while so he assumed they were somewhere in the continental US. Tennessee? Alabama? He vaguely recalled someone calling this the red neck tour.

He hadn’t made any friends so he couldn’t be sure and he really couldn’t be bothered to ask anyone.  They were all uptight modern dancers in a touring show funded by some grant or other. Rehearsals had revealed he had the strongest technique of anyone in the company and this hadn’t endeared him to anyone. They were all wondering why he was slumming with them.

The reality was there weren’t a whole lot of offers waiting for him. He had an offer from a small  regional ballet, an off Broadway musical, and this.  He started dancing to see the world. The touring modern company had been the winner.

He was the first one ready for barre. There was no coffee and his GPS showed the closest café 3 miles away. He sat wondering how he was going to make it through warm up when a fellow dancer (he assumed due to the leotard he was wearing as he couldn’t recall ever seeing him before) sat next to him and handed him a cup. “Black right?”

“Thanks”, said a humbled Thomas. He sat there – adjusted his attitude, put his shoes aside, and walked to the center of the stage. “Any advice?” he asked looking back crouching in the ballet’s signature pose and pointing his foot.

“Don’t Sickle”