|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
The Anisgina War: Part OneAs for this, it happened long ago....
Once, up in the high hills of Oconee, there lived a hermit. He was a strange and wild man, who rarely spoke or came down from his old house on the mountainside. It was whispered by some that he guarded some great treasure up there; a hoard of stolen confederate gold, a stream that sparkled with shining gems, or something even more precious. Whatever it might have been, none could pry a word about this treasure from the hermit on the few times he came down the hollow and into town. Eventually the hermit tired of the constant questions and declined to come at all.
Now there were rough men who did believe in the treasure, and together they went up the mountain to find it. They plundered his tiny house, looking for any sign of money or jewels, and found nothing. In a rage, they found him on the mountainside
if you need help making it through the dayremember:
The Coffee GodThe Coffee God behind the counter shuffles foot to foot, a dance of steam and espresso. Black painted fingernails, inch gauged ears and a gray striped sweatshirt, hood crooked on his back. There's a cigarette tucked behind one ear; it bobs and twitches with each step.
“Non-fat caramel latte,” he calls, just as he always does, part of a spell, part of a mantra, toneless (just a tuck at the end). I reach. He looks up.
The espresso maker hisses.
There's something like a grin, something like a spark, something like a shared secret linked eye to eye. When he passes over the drink (rough cardboard sleeve hot to the touch), he lingers. Our fingers brush, a shiver, a jolt, a ten-watt shock.
The Coffee God tilts his chin, shouts, “Hey, mind if I take my break now?”
and ducks around the counter without waiting for a reply.
He slips his cigarette between his lips without taking his eyes from mine. I follow him out the door.
Keep in Touch!