Amazonian story

The house guest of an Amazon woman

Winds shook the windows as the biting wind raced through the streets of Richland, the December winds had finally caught up with us and now it was a fight to even stay warm. The electricity had been going out around town and it was only a matter of time before it hit my neighborhood. Right when I thought that the lights shut off. Even the lamp light on the street had shut down, it was without a doubt the coldest night Richland had ever gone through. I looked around my house to check for any flashlights, cursing myself when I didn’t find any. My house creaked as another gust of biting wind hit it. The worn blue wall bending to its will before regaining its shape. I saw a flicker of movement outside my window, soon more flickers were seen. Shadows.

            I walked to my bedroom to get my knife that I always had and a blanket to wrap around my shoulders. Slowly I opened the door, right as another gust of wind hit. Pulling my blanket tighter around me, I looked outside, fingers gripping my knife harder. Richland doesn’t have a lot of crime but I never underestimate the places I go to. In Maryland I thought it was safe and had foolishly walked outside my door when there was a serial sniper on the loose. I have the worst luck, so of course, who found me unarmed? I learned my lesson the hard way then, I now have a large scar on my neck, where he managed to get close enough to slash me to remind me of it every day.

            My sight returned after the wind had lessened, eyes watering from the cold, I looked around for the shadows I saw. I didn’t have to look far, a small group of people were sitting on my porch shivering in a circle, with barely any clothes on them. They looked terrified. But I guess when you are freezing your butt off outside with a small group of people on someone’s front porch, you do not expect an Amazonian women to open the door holding a knife and a blanket. I am 6’ 8” an sometimes I forget how intimidating I can be. My red hair was whipped around as another gust of wind tried to batter my house to the ground. My blanket was doing no good and my house was going to get cold if the door stayed open. So I closed the door and stared down at the strangers. A man, a woman and 2 children sat staring at me like I was death’s messenger here to say: “hello, now die for the sin of sitting on my front porch”.

            Being paranoid has its advantages, one such being I am still alive. Another convenient thing is that when you are paranoid you beef up so you can handle whatever threat my come your way. I looked down at them and saw no threat, but still I wasn’t going to offer my house to them. Even the smallest of things can pack a big punch. As I found when I was in Arizona and had to fight the Catoblpas, nasty little pig, the wings didn’t help either. Silence was apparently too much for the freezing little family, and one little boy piped up. “Miss, its cold. Can we come inside?”

            I still hadn’t decided if they were a threat of not, I had just settled in, so the chance of the Olympians finding me so soon was nil. Four pairs of eyes looked into my tea- green ones. I stood for a while before finally deciding to let them it. Amazonian Island was never this cold in the winter. I prayed to Artimis that I was making the right choice. I led them inside my shabby home, shabby in the way it was old not that I kept it shabby. The oldest male thanked me and I had to fight a snarl. Even after a thousand years my habits never broke. I still hated men.

            Sighing I followed after the woman, she looked to be the worst off. Her fingers had a blue tint to them and she was still shivering even after I put the blanket over her. I walked down the hallway knowing that the brown carpet, probably yellow at some point, would mask my steps. In the kitchen it was a little harder to find what I was looking for, the cold tile did nothing for my feet, not like the warm hearth back home. Sighing I saved the reminiscing for later as I continued searching. Finally proving successful when I emerged from the cupboard with a pack of matches and a candle.

            I lit the wick and walked back to the living room where I found the small family huddled again under the blanket. As I came closer they edged away from the light, like they might be burned if it came nearer. This time, in the light I saw lines tracing up their bodies, like the wood of a tree, their hair was brown and had many twigs tangled in them and their green eyes were a little more intense than mine. Wood nymphs. The gods must love playing with me.

My sisters and I would have rejoiced to shelter nymphs some time ago. They were like ourselves independent, and strong. They were always welcome in our tribe, as long as they didn’t provide any mischief. Maybe that’s why the Gods knew to send them when we were punished. My sisters and I didn’t expect a thing. They stole our orb, the orb that drew from the land and made it so we did not age. We did not need men if we did not die. I must of let some of my aura majik’ loose, remembering my poor sisters did that. They were now stuck on a forbidden Island where they suffer aging but do not die for our punishment.

My punishment. The wood nymphs coward and edged farther away from the flames, as I was tempted to let it burn them right there. No more nymph meant no early warning for the Gods to find me again. I looked at the family and cursed at myself, they probably didnt even know what misery their ancestors caused me and my sisters.

I glared at them, using the old tongue I told them “I am sheeika, from the Amazonian tribe of knife. Why did I find you on my land?” I let some of my aura majik’ leak into my voice so they knew I meant business. They coward away from me more until the little boy spoke to me again. This time in old tongue “we are the Kapok, from the Cotton tree clan. We mean no harm, winter winds f-forced us to land at your lands” his tongue was not used to making these sounds, no one spoke the old language anymore, but it was in their roots, you could say. “why doest thou speak for ye elders?” I asked the boy looked uncomfortable and opened his mouth to reply when a hand reached up and grabbed his tattered excuse of a shirt.

“Leone?” the boys name I presume “can we stay?” I looked to the speaker, a human child. A boy not much older than 4 years. Both his and Leone’s eyes pierced me, silently begging to stay. “fine, you may stay. But there will be questions tomorrow” I promptly turned and left to my bedroom, setting up traps with my aura majik’. Being this careful is why I am alive. Soon my head hit the pillow and I fell into a light sleep.

When morning came, I walked out to find no one in my living room, I gripped that handle on my knife tighter and searched, I only found two of them, the little human boy and Leone with a note written in the old tongue that said.

“They are yours now, take care of them.”    

That is how I got stuck with two people who will never leave.