Eventually, the humans woke up.  I don’t know why they stay asleep so long, wasting so much of the darkness.  Don’t they know that sunshine is for taking naps in, and darkness is for work and play and exploration? Those silly humans!  They both went and sat on their litterbox, but they hadn’t cleaned out my litterbox yet.  Is that fair?  I’m still holding it, humans, and there you go, relieving yourselves in front of me!  Sheesh.

These humans do some crazy things.  They waste most of the darkness, and then they start getting themselves wet.   Ugh — I shudder at the thought of it!  First they get their teeth wet, rubbing them with brushes.  Crazy!  Then they start getting their whole selves wet!  They go into this little room where the water pours all over them, and they rub themselves with bubbles and then rinse them off.  But I haven’t told you the craziest part yet.  After they do all this work to get themselves wet, do you know what those silly humans do?  They take towels and rub off all the water again.  Yes, they wet themselves all over, and then they dry it off!  Why would you do that?  I mean, you could save yourselves a whole lot of time and effort if you didn’t bother to get yourself all wet in the first place!  Silly humans.

Okay, so maybe that isn’t the craziest part.  After the big deep-voiced human finishes drying off, he gets his face all wet again.  And then, even though he is practically naked, with no fur at all, he starts scraping what little fur he has off of his face.  It is so bizarre!  For a while, I thought only the big deep-voiced human did this.  But one day, I peeked into the little room while the small round human was getting herself wet, and she was doing the same thing!  But instead of scraping fur off of her face, she was scraping it off of her legs!  Why would you scrape the fur from your legs?  Can you imagine the indignity of being a Cat with no fur on your legs?  It would be utterly ridiculous!  Those silly humans!

The next part is even crazier yet.  After they waste all this time making themselves wet and then making themselves dry again, after they scrape off their fur… next they put on fake fur.  I’m not kidding!  These poor, humans must know they’re naked, so they have to put on fake fur!  Some of the fake fur is tight and some is loose; some of it has bright colors, and some of it is black like my fur; some of it is softer, and some is more rough, and some even feels kind of like fur.  But mostly, it just looks fake and feels fake.  Pathetic.

And once those silly humans finally have their fake fur on, then they get around to cleaning up my litterbox and filling up my bowl.  I can’t believe they make me wait so long while they waste time with this ridiculousness.

Okay, silly humans, listen up.  I want to help you here, so we’ll go over this for you.  For now, I’ll let you stay asleep when it’s dark, as long as I don’t get too bored.  But this morning nonsense has got to stop.  So when you get up, you really have to clean up my litterbox before you use your own.  It’s only fair!  I’ve been waiting for you for hours, and you just woke up.  Besides, I’d do it myself, but I don’t have thumbs like you do.  Next you can fill my bowl, like you’re supposed to.  Once you’ve finished these two tasks, then you can get on with your craziness.  We’ll work later on the wetting yourself and then drying yourself off, but for now, you really have to stop scraping off your fur.  Do you not see how ridiculous you look, with your naked faces and your furless legs?  Ugh!  I’m ashamed for any other cats to see you — it would be so humiliating!  This will also make you much softer for me to rub against, and it will keep you warmer so that you don’t need all that fake fur.  See?  It’s obvious, isn’t it?  There’s so much time you can save, and that means there’s so much more time you can be paying attention to me.  And we all know that’s how you really should be spending your time, at least, when I want attention.

But for now, leave me alone for a while, okay?  The sun is up, and the windowsill is calling, and I’m tired after waiting for you in the darkness, hunting and pouncing and keeping the mice away from our home while you slept.  I was hungry and needed to use the litterbox, but you kept snoring, wasting the whole night.  But that’s okay, you silly humans.  I still like having you around, even if you are completely crazy.  I guess you can stay.

For now.

Daddy always loved me.  He gave me everything I ever asked for, fine dresses and silk veils and more jewelry than anyone could ever want.  I used to sit in my chamber with Mother, and we would take out all of the gifts Daddy had given me.  Mother would wrap the veils around her shoulders and pretend to be different women we knew.  She was so funny — I would laugh and laugh, until I fell onto my pallet, and then she would tickle me until neither of us could talk.

A couple weeks ago, Mother wrapped up every inch of her body in silks and veils. She pretended to fan herself, and she giggled and said, “Do you know who I am, Salome?”

“I don’t know,” I replied.  “You don’t look like my Mother…”

“No, silly!  But I should have been the one to give your Daddy a little girl!”

I didn’t know what she meant.  What other woman could have given Daddy a girl?  It was just Daddy and Mother and me.  Well, and all of Daddy’s soldiers and friends, but they were all men.

Mother giggled at me again and wiggled her hips.  “I’m Phasaelis, silly girl!  Don’t you remember me?”

I shrugged my shoulders and shook my head.  Mother pulled the veil from over her mouth and sat down on my pallet.  I sat down next to her, wondering what this was about.

“Salome, you know how you had another father, before we came to live with your Daddy?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Well, your Daddy had another wife before we moved here, too.  Only his wife came from Nabatea, from that weak king who doesn’t know anything about power.”

I gasped.  “Another wife?”

“That’s right!” said Mother, her lips pursing in disapproval.  “But your Daddy made a much better choice in me, in us, little one.  He knows that we can help him, make him stronger.  Maybe someday he could even be a Caesar!”

“Really, Mother?  I thought only the Caesar’s son could be the new Caesar.”

Mother winked at me.  “That’s the easy way.  But if you aren’t lucky in your birth, then you can make your own luck through power.  I’m helping your Daddy understand true power, and he knows I can help him to be much more than a ruler of this godsforsaken country so far from Rome.”  She twirled the veils around her wrists, around her fingers.  Then, Mother looked hard at me, and she spoke again.  “Of course, you’re just about 11 years old now, Salome.  Pretty soon, Daddy and I will make you a match, find you a strong man to marry.  Won’t that be wonderful?”

I shivered at the thought.  Me?  Married?  I wasn’t ready to think about that yet!  Not when there were so many wonderful things to do here in the palace — singing lessons and dancing lessons and feasts and games and afternoons with Mother.

“Silly girl!” Mother exclaimed.  “You’ll like being married, being queen of your own palace.  And we’ll find you a good match, someone who can bring even more glory to your Daddy.  You want your Daddy to be happy and rich, don’t you?”

I nodded, biting my lower lip.  Mother was looking at me expectantly, so I said, “Yes, Mother.”

“Don’t worry, child.  You’re starting some new lessons this week.  I’m going to teach you what it means to be a woman of power, how to control a man, how to increase his power.  When I finish with you, every powerful man from here to Rome will fall at your feet and beg for you!”

The intensity in Mother’s voice frightened me, a little, but I knew she wanted what’s best for us.

“It is always good to visit with you, little Salome.  But now I need to go see what the servants are planning for tonight’s banquet.  Without someone to watch over them, they get up to the strangest things!”  Mother gave me a little hug, dropped the veils on my pallet, and rushed out of my chamber.

***

Mother’s lessons started the next morning.  I learned a lot from her, but I don’t think I understood what Mother was trying to teach me.  Everything she taught me was about power, about getting what I want.  She wanted me to always remember what is best for Daddy, because what’s best for Daddy is what’s best for me.  “Even after I’m married?” I asked.  “Even after you’re married,” Mother answered.

Last week, some new prisoners were brought into Daddy’s dungeon.  This happened all the time, when Daddy’s soldiers found Jews shouting in the marketplace about the evils of Rome.  I never used to pay attention to Daddy’s prisoners, but this group was different.  For the first time ever, I heard Daddy shouting at Mother.  There was one man, a man named John, and Daddy didn’t want the man in the dungeon.

“Are you out of your MIND?” shouted Mother.  “Everywhere he goes, John speaks out against you, against US!  He calls on his God to strike us down for our evil.  He tells everyone that your true wife is that Phasaelis –” Mother spat the name out.  ” — and that my true husband is your weakling of a brother!  He is insane, he is dangerous to us, and he is NOT your friend!”

When Daddy replied, his voice was low and cold.  I had never heard him sound so cruel.  “Wife, that is enough.  This is men’s business.  Go take care of our daughter, or help the servants put together our dinner.  Just leave me.”

Mother took her voice down, too, soft and silky.  “Of course you’re right, darling.  I should not have raised my voice to you.  I know how hard you are working to get out of this — Galilee.”  Her voice sounded venomous again.  “I only want what is best for you.”

But Daddy waved his hand at her, so Mother left him.  She found me and took me straightaway to her chamber.  It was filled with silks and jewels and rich gowns.  There I sat on my pallet while Mother’s servant dressed her for the night’s banquet.  Mother kept up a torrent of speech, all about this strange man John.  She spoke bitterly about him, how he used to live in the desert, wearing skins and eating locusts while Jews flocked to him to hear his message.    She told me how he would push people into the Jordan River, demanding them to repent, claiming that the River gave them a new life.  “Psht!  You can’t just pick up a new life!  You are still the same person you always were.  Really, child.  Do you think some muddy river can turn you into a cook or a soldier, instead of the daughter of a king?”  I shook my head, afraid to speak aloud.

She continued, not even noticing me any more.  “The worst of it is, this John, this locust-eating baptizer calls your father and me the greatest sinners in the kingdom!  He demands that we return to our old marriages, that I go back to Herod Boethus –” she spat the name again, and I was a little afraid at how she resembled a serpent.   ” — and your father bring back that cow Phasaelis!  And then John wants us to apologize to his God, to let him push us into the river.  I can’t believe your father has let him live this long!”

I continued to nod my head yes or shake my head no, as Mother’s tirade wore on.  Finally, it was time for the banquet to begin.  “Ah, my sweet Salome,” Mother said, as her speech wound down.  She kissed me on the forehead.  “Daughter, tonight’s banquet is just for grown-ups, so you will dine in your chamber.  But tomorrow is your Daddy’s birthday, so you will need to prepare a special gift for him!  Good night, little one.”  When a pat on my head, she rushed out the door, her gown and silk veils whispering behind her.

“Come on, little miss,” said the servant who had dressed Mother, while Mother had ignored her presence completely.  “Let me take you to your chamber.”  She held out her hand to me, so I took it and we walked in silence.  The quiet of the palace was welcome after Mother’s shouting and screeching.    As we reached my chamber, I saw that a tray of food already sat next to my pallet.  I walked in, and I heard the servant woman murmur to herself as she left me.  “That woman is so full of poison.  It will be the death of us all.”

***

The tray of the night’s dinner had been taken away while I slept.  The morning sun slanted through the window as I sat up and stretched. Then I remembered what Mother had said the night before.  Tomorrow is your Daddy’s birthday, so you will need to prepare a special gift for him!  I did not know what gift I could give my father.  He was the one who gave gifts to me.  I was not allowed to go to the marketplace, where strange men might lay eyes on me, or worse, try to touch me.  What gift could I find within the palace?

I dressed myself quickly, simply, and slipped out into the inner garden to think.  I did not want another lesson from Mother today; I didn’t want to speak to anyone.  I had to figure out this gift.  What did I have, to offer my Daddy?  He would not want gowns or silks or little girls’ jewels.  He was a man, and his captains and nobles and friends would all be at his birthday banquet tonight.  I had to think of a gift that would make a man proud and happy, that would not weaken him in front of his friends.

I walked through the gardens, not really paying attention to where I was or where I was going, until I walked right into a servant.  I looked down in shock as she scuttled back from me, trying to bow her head to me.  “I’m sorry, Miss Salome.  I did not mean –  I was just — ”

“It is okay,” I said, and I offered my hand to the servant, to help her stand.

“Oh no, Miss!” she exclaimed, and she quickly gathered her baskets.  I could see that she had been gathering vegetables and herbs for tonight’s banquet.

“I am the one in your way,” I said.  “Let me leave you to your work.”  I turned around and fled — not running, as Mother had taught me — but walking very swiftly, back to my chamber.

There, Mother was sitting on my pallet, her features dark with anger.  “I have been waiting for you, Salome.  Where have you been?”

“Forgive me, Mother,” I said, inclining my head to her.  “I needed a walk.  I was in the garden.  I needed to…”

My words ran down, as Mother glared at me.  “The garden?  Where the kitchen servants work?”  I nodded.  “Have you learned nothing yet, girl?  You are the daughter of a king!  You cannot mix with servants!”  I lowered my eyes and stared at my feet.  “Well, enough of that.  We must prepare you for tonight’s banquet!”

I looked back up at Mother, and she smiled at me.  “I have decided what your gift will be for your Daddy.  You will dance for him.”  I didn’t know what to say to this.  Dance?  In front of all of his captains and nobles and friends?  So that they would see me?  I shivered.  “Silly girl, you will dance beautifully.  And maybe your dance will bring a strong husband to you!  Let’s get started.”

Mother clapped her hands for a servant, and ordered her to move my pallet.  And then, for hours, we worked on my dance.  My arms and legs were long and strong, and I moved gracefully.  Mother tried to teach me new ways to move, sequences that would display my budding breasts or rock my hips.  It all felt so silly, and a little embarrassing, but Mother insisted.  Finally she declared her satisfaction.  “Enough!”  Clapping her hands again, Mother ordered the servants to bathe me and dress me in a fine new gown.  “You will dance wonderfully, my daughter.  And tonight, your Daddy will deny you nothing you ask for!”

***

The time of the banquet arrived, and the servants ushered me into the banquet hall.  I found my place at the women’s table, though the rich smells of fish and lamb and wine turned my stomach to stone.  I managed to swallow a bit of bread, but could eat no more.

My gown was so pretty.  Long silk scarves trailed from the full, wide sleeves, and the full skirt was covered with glittering glass beads.  The deep green complemented my dark eyes, and for the first time, I really felt like the daughter of the king.  Mother entered the banquet hall just before Daddy, and she wore a gown even lovelier than mine.  When Daddy entered, he thanked his guests for joining him on his birthday, and then he clapped his hands.  In the far corner, four musicians began to play their instruments.  I was surprised — I had not even noticed them there!

As Daddy took his dinner, his nobles and friends stood up to give him speeches, to present rich gifts to him.  Finally, Daddy sat back in his chair, rubbing his belly, and declared himself satisfied… almost.

“Where is my daughter?  Where is Salome?”  Heads turned toward me, and I blushed at the attention.  “Come, Salome!” Daddy said.  “Your mother tells me you have a special gift for me.”

Shyly, I rose from my place and made my way across the floor, until I stood in front of my father.  My arms and legs felt heavy, and the walk seemed to take ages.  I realized that I was trembling.

“Will you dance for me, Salome?” my father asked.

I bowed my head and began to dance.

As I began my dance, I felt the eyes of all the men on me, watching my body move.  My first movements were slow, halting, jerky.  Soon enough, though, my awareness of the other men faded, as if only I and my father were present, and my dance gained energy and strength.  I stretched and leaped.  I used the new motions Mother had taught me, rocking my hips and displaying my tiny budding breasts.  When I finished, I was breathing rapidly and my face felt flushed.  I bowed my head to my father and stood still.

The men cheered, until Daddy stood.  “This is the most wonderful gift you could have given me, daughter!”  He stepped down and took my hands.  I lifted my gaze to his face.  Daddy slipped a ring onto my finger.  “This ring is a token of my promise.  Tonight, Salome, you have pleased me more than any other.  I promise you any gift you ask for, even if you want half of my kingdom!”  He bowed his head to me, and I blushed as the men cheered again.

Father returned to his place at the high table, and he drew me along with him.  A servant placed another chair behind Mother, an honored place for me.  As Daddy sat, Mother whispered in my ear.  “Well done, Salome!  Now here is what you must do.  You must ask him for the head of John the Baptizer.”

I looked at her in horror.  “What?”

“You heard me, daughter,” she whispered.  He has promised you any gift you ask for, and you must ask for John’s head.”

When there was next a lull in the conversation, I stood up.  Daddy noticed immediately.  “You have chosen your gift, my dearest daughter?”

I cleared my throat.  “I have, Father.”

“What can I give you, little one?  A new gown?  Rich jewels to match your eyes?  Whatever you ask, I will give it.”

“I want –” I gulped, and then spilled the words out in a rush.  “I want the head of John the Baptizer!”

The crowd gasped.  Daddy’s face paled.  “My daughter, do you know what you ask?  He is a holy man, a good man.  He is marked by his God.  The Galileans will be quiet upset with me, and we can ill afford that with King Aretas readying to march on us.”

I nodded, and Mother poked me sharply with her fingers, right in the small of my back.   “Yes, Father.  I know.  This is the gift I want.”

Murmurs rushed through the crowd.  “Please, my daughter, ask me anything but this gift.  Ask me for your own servants, for your own palace, and I will gladly give it to you.”

Mother prodded me again, and I shook my head.  My voice quavered as I said, “No, Father.  This is the only gift I want.  John’s… head.”  I sat back down quickly.

Daddy sighed, then motioned for one of his guards.  “You have heard my daughter’s wish.  Bring me the head of John the Baptizer.”  The guard bowed and rushed from the room.

The room remained hushed, as Daddy’s guests did not know what to say or do.  I pushed my chair back, trying to get up, but Daddy glared at me.  “Oh no, daughter.  You have asked for this gift, and now you will stay until it is given into your hands.”  Then he sat, hard, in his chair and waved for a servant to refill his wine.

Talk returned to the banquet hall, but I sat silently, wringing my hands in my gown.  Mother tried to stop me, hissing to me that I would ruin this fine dress, but I could not stop.

Finally, the doors to the banquet hall opened with a crash. All conversation in the hall stopped, and the men turned as one to face the doors.  There stood the guard Daddy had sent.  He held a great silver platter before him, and I saw that his hands and face and uniform were stained with blood.  At first, I did not understand, but as he approached the high table, I saw.

I saw.  I saw the head.  The eyes stared at me, the empty eyes with only death behind them.  The hair stood up, where the guards had held his head for the sword.  The mouth was open, and there was blood everywhere.

I screamed.

At a nod from Daddy, the guard placed the platter on the high table, right in front of Mother and me.

I held my hand to my mouth, but it was not enough.  I could smell the blood, smell the man this head had belonged to, smell the sweat and dirt and death.  I turned around quickly and fell to my knees, being noisily sick in the corner.  I threw up until nothing was left in my stomach, and then it kept heaving and heaving, though not even bile would come up.

“Behold your gift!” shouted my father.  “Behold!  A good and holy man, killed, for the dance of a girl.”  He rushed from the room, his robes sweeping behind him.

“Husband!” my mother cried after him.  “Our guests!”  Daddy only waved his hand behind him as he strode out.

The men stood at their tables, looking at each other.

“Noble and honored guests,” Mother spoke.  “We thank you for sharing this banquet with us.  Your gifts are most generous, and you will all be remembered.  Good night.”  With that, she strode out of the room behind Father, and I could see that her eyes were on fire.

Nobody noticed me, heaving in the corner, until a servant took my elbow.  “Here you go, Miss.  Let’s get you back to your room.”  She wiped my mouth with her dress, and she guided me through corridors.  I could see nothing but the eyes, the dead eyes of John the Baptizer.

***

Mother gave me no further lessons after this.  She looked at me with scorn and pity, calling me weak and unsuited for power.  Daddy gave me no more gifts, no more jewels or gowns.  I was still the king’s daughter, but was mostly ignored.  Finally, Mother came to my chamber to tell me that a husband had been found for me.

“You are 14 years old now, so it is high time you were married and out of your father’s house,” she told me.  “We have found you a quiet merchant.”  She spat the word, and I knew from the look of disappointment on her face that marrying me to a merchant was far from Mother’s dreams of increased glory and power.  “You will be married next week, and you will leave the palace immediately after that.”

After Mother left my chamber, I sighed with relief.  Although I did not relish the thought of a husband, seeing no happiness between Mother and Daddy, I was glad to leave this place.  I was glad to leave behind the banquet hall, the place where I first saw death.  I was glad to leave behind lessons in singing and dancing, now that I knew that these led only to death.  I was glad to go to a place where I could learn real things, like sewing simple clothes or cooking my own dinner.  I was glad to go to a place where I could just be me, just little Salome.  Never again would I be only the girl who danced for the head of a good and holy man.  Never again would I be only the girl who demanded the head of John the Baptizer on a platter.

Wagtail Duckypants and Momma Muscovy and Poppa Mallard spent a wonderful summer together. They lived on a lake surrounded by beautiful buildings.  Almost every day, people would come out of the buildings and bring them treats, like bread and popcorn and cereal.  When they did this, all the ducks on the lake would come out to share the treats.  Wagtail would meet the other boy and girl ducks, and their mommas and poppas.  He loved to greet the other ducks, and to play games with the boy and girl ducks.  They would play Splash and Race and Fly, and Wagtail noticed that when a game was about to start, all the other young ducks wiggled their little duck tails, too.

Soon enough, the days began to grow shorter rather than longer, and the nights grew cooler.  Wagtail’s soft yellow feathers began to grow out into long tan ones, with stripes on them.  He thought they looked a little like the momma mallards he saw at the lake, and he was so happy to see his blue stripe like his own poppa.  Wagtail also began to listen to the grown-up ducks at the lake.  He knew that soon, he would have to leave his Momma and Poppa, and get ready to have his own nest.  Only little yellow baby ducks still lived with their Momma and Poppa.  Big grown-up ducks had to make their own homes.  So Wagtail listened to all the momma and poppa ducks at the lake, so that he could learn about finding a good home and making a warm, soft nest.  But when Wagtail moved close enough to the momma ducks, they would stop talking all of the sudden, and they would step backwards.  Did I eat a smelly fish?  Wagtail thought.  He put his wing in front of his beak and sniffed his breath.  No, my breath is all right… maybe my feathers are dirty or messy?  But no, Wagtail’s Momma had carefully watched him preen all his feathers before they left the nest.  Why don’t the momma ducks want to be close to me?

Wagtail shrugged his wings and decided to listen to the poppas instead.  After gobbling up a yummy bit of cereal, he made his way over to the poppa ducks.  They didn’t back away from him, but the poppas did look at him strangely while they talked very loudly about the boy ducks and their games.  Wagtail was excited about this, because he knew that he was the very best young duck on the lake at catching fish.  Wagtail always won when the boys played a game of Catch Fish.  But when the poppa ducks finished talking about Race and Fly, and started talking about Catch Fish, Wagtail heard one poppa duck say, “It’s just to bad about that Duckypants boy.  He would have been great if it weren’t for… you know.”  All the other poppas nodded their heads and murmured agreement.  Wagtail was so embarrassed that he moved back down to the water and swam away from the other ducks.

What’s so wrong with me?  Wagtail thought.  I have a beautiful red bill and a perfect blue stripe.  I have the best of all the ducks on the lake!  But somehow, as Wagtail looked around him at the other young girl and boy ducks, he knew he was different.  All the other ducks had only one kind of parent - their mommas and poppas were both mallards or both muscovies.  They didn’t have one of each.   Momma and Poppa had always told Wagtail that he was the most special duck there was.  And Wagtail had been silly enough to believe them.

That night, when the sun began to set and all the ducks went home to their nests to sleep, Wagtail did not go home to his Momma Muscovy and Poppa Mallard.  Instead, he held his head up proud and high, and he marched out of the lake.  Wagtail marched into the parking lot, where all the people kept their big smelly cars.  The cars were all quiet and still, and Wagtail was glad.  He had seen those cars hit some of his friends, and he tried not to act afraid, but Wagtail didn’t want any cars to hurt him.  He marched to the sidewalk, where the people would walk, and he marched proudly across the street.  He marched past the little stores with their fancy lights and signs, down the sidewalk to a great big store.  Next to the great big store was a little pond.  It wasn’t as beautiful as his lake, and Wagtail didn’t see any other ducks there.  But it was water, and there was grass, and he saw some branches and feathers that would make a nice, warm nest.  Wagtail was tired after his long march, though, so he snuggled down into the grass by a green bush, and he fell instantly asleep.

When the sun rose, Wagtail stretched his long neck and flapped his big wings.  He looked up at the sky and then down at the pond, and he remembered the momma and poppa ducks at the lake.  Well, thought Wagtail, it’s time for breakfast!  I wonder what the people bring to this little pond!  He marched down to the water and started to swim, enjoying the feel of the cool morning water on his feathers.  As the sun rose higher, Wagtail grew hungrier.  He saw people driving up to the store in their scary, smelly cars, but none of them approached the pond with treats for him.  Wagtail’s tummy started to rumble from emptiness.  He decided to do something.  Aha!  Instead of waiting here in the pond for the people to come, I’ll go to the people instead!  So Wagtail marched out of the pond, shook his feathers dry, and marched over to the great big store.

The people were walking into the store and out of the store, stepping out of their cars and back into them.  But none of the people saw Wagtail there.  He tried to walk in front of them, sure they would see him and give him treats.  But the only people who did see him laughed at him.  “Go away, you silly duck!  Get!  Go back to your lake!”  Wagtail didn’t understand.  People had always given him treats before!  His feet were getting tired from marching on the hard black ground, and he wanted to go back home to the lake, to his momma and his poppa.  But he didn’t want to have to face all the other momma and poppa ducks, and all the other boys and girls who thought he was different.

Then he saw a car drive up.  It was a red car - the same color as his special muscovy beak!  Wagtail marched close to the car, and he saw a girl person step out.  A boy person stepped out the other side, and he called the girl person Momma.  Wagtail’s beak opened all by itself; he never knew that people had mommas and poppas, too!  He saw that the boy person was even taller than the momma person, so Wagtail knew that this boy person would have to make his own nest soon.  The boy person was just like him!  Wagtail closed his beak and marched up to them.  He marched right up to the momma person’s feet.

“Oh, Sean, look at the duck!  He wants some food, but I don’t have any!”

“Momma, don’t be silly.  We have to buy our groceries.”

Then the momma person knelt down and looked Wagtail in the eye.  “It’s okay, Mr. Duckypants.”  She knew his name!  “I’ll bring you some nice food.  You just wait right here, okay?”  Wagtail watch as the momma person and boy person walked into the store.  He was so hungry, Wagtail didn’t think he could make it back to the pond without food.  So he tried to snuggle against the wheels of the car, and he closed his eyes, and he waited.

Wagtail didn’t know how long it had been, but it felt like his whole life before the people came back to the car.  They had a cart full of bags, and the boy person began to put them into the back of the car.  The momma person took out a bag of bread.  She tore off a little piece and offered it to Wagtail.  He reached out and took the bread right out of her hand.  He was so hungry!  And the bread tasted so wonderful!  He wagged his little tail, and the momma person laughed.  “Look, Sean!  He wags his tail just like a little puppy dog!”

The boy person finished putting the bags into the car and then looked at the momma.  Wagtail was happily eating bread from her hand, and even let her touch the feathers on his back.  It felt nice, just like when Momma Muscovy helped him preen and straighten his feathers.  He closed his eyes and leaned against her, wagging his tail faster than he’d ever wiggled it before.

“Sean, I want to take him home.”

“Momma, you can’t bring a duck home!”

“Why not?  Look at little Wiggletail!”  Wagtail was too happy with the bread and the feather stroking to correct her.

“Momma, it’s a wild animal.”

“Oh, Sean, I’ll just put Mr. Duckypants in the back yard.  He’ll be fine.  And his wings are okay, so he can fly to the lake or to the pond any time he wants!”

Wagtail opened his eyes and watched as the momma person put a piece of bread inside the car.  He paused for a moment to think about it, and then he jumped up into the car to eat the bread.  The door closed behind him, and for a moment, Wagtail was afraid.  It was all closed in around him, and he couldn’t see the sky!  What was he going to do?

Just then, the momma person got into the car and spoke to him.  “It’s okay, Duckypants.  I’m going to take you to a nice place.  You’ll like it!”

They were only in the car a moment, and it moved much faster than Wagtail could march!  Then the car stopped and the momma person got out.  She opened the door next to Wagtail, and he hopped down onto the ground.

“Follow me, little ducky,” the momma person said.  She dropped a piece of bread on the ground, and Wagtail marched right up to eat it.  “Look at him, Sean!  He marches like a little soldier duck!”  The momma person kept dropping bread, a few steps further ahead, and Wagtail followed her.  Then she stopped.  “Look, Wiggletail.  This is our back yard.  Right there are lots of bushes, and I’ve seen string and feathers and other things inside them.  You can make a warm, safe nest here.  I’ve got corn and seeds and lots of treats.  I’ll take very good care of you.  You’re such a special, beautiful little duck!”

Wagtail marched into the bushes and looked around.  The momma person was right!  This was a perfect place for a safe nest.   He popped his head back through the bushes to quack a thank you to the momma.  She smiled at him, and then went back to her car.  Wagtail happily gathered branches and strings and leaves to build his nest.  He was warm and safe, and he snuggled down eagerly into his very own nest.  This is my home now, Wagtail thought.  My very own home!

The next morning, Wagtail’s new Momma  came outside to see him.  She brought cracked corn with her, and she sat on the ground to watch as Wagtail munched happily on it.  Momma laughed to see his tail wiggle and wag with pleasure, and Wagtail made sure to show off his beautiful red beak and his perfect blue stripe for her.  This is how Wagtail spent the winter, all snuggled up in the bushes behind his new Momma’s house, eating the food that she gave him and making her laugh happily by marching like a soldier and wagging his tail like a puppy dog.

Then the days began to grow longer again, and Wagtail wondered about his Momma Muscovy and Poppa Mallard.  Were they back in the nest again?  Would they have another baby duck this year, or maybe a bunch of them like the other mommas and poppas?  He wondered how all the girl and boy ducks were, and which ones were nesting together.  And then… he saw her.  In the back yard next door stood a duck.  She had a red beak like his, and tan feathers like his.  But her feathers had black stripes in them, like the momma mallards at the lake.  She didn’t  have a blue stripe like Wagtail and PoppaMallard did.  He called to her.  “Hello!  My name is Wagtail!”

“Oh!” the lady duck cried out.  “My name is Redbill.”

Wagtail said, “Your bill is very pretty.”

Redbill laughed a little, and said, “You think so?  All the other ducks at the lake said I was funny-looking.  It’s because my momma is a mallard and my poppa is a muscovy.”

“So you’re special!”  Wagtail replied.  “Just like…. me!”

“That’s what my momma always told me, but the other ducks at the lake–” Redbill shrugged her wings.

Wagtail’s head lowered.  “I know.  The other ducks at my lake said the same.”

“Have you lived here all winter?”  Redbill asked.

“Yes,” Wagtail said.  “I have a nest under the bushes.  I miss the lake sometimes, but it’s warm and safe here.  Oh!  And there’s a momma person inside that house!  She loves to bring me food and watch me wag my tail.”

“You wag your tail, too?”  Redbill exclaimed.

“Of course!  Doesn’t everybody?”

“Silly Wagtail!  None of the other ducks at the lake did.  At least, not so I could see.”

Wagtail looked at the ground for a moment, and then looked back up at Redbill.  “Would you like to come see my nest?”

“I would love to!”

As Redbill marched into the yard — and Wagtail was so excited to see her marching proudly, with her head held up high! — Wagtail looked up, and saw the momma person watching them from the house.  He gave a special tail wiggle, just for her, and then turned to show his nest to his new wife.

“Michael!” the angel called. “Michael, where are you?”

Michael paused in his drill, his sword halted in mid-swing. “What is it, Gabriel?”

“It’s Jesus, Michael. You have to come see.”

Michael sighed and put up his sword. He didn’t have to physically put it away, but the archangel found it such a satisfying feeling to put away his sword after working out. He knew it was a strange affectation, like the humans would do, since all he had to do was visualize his sword where he wanted it, and it would be there. But still, the ching that the sword made sliding into its scabbard, and the solidity as he hung it on the wall, always comforted him. “I’m coming!”

Gabriel was standing at the gateway to the Kingdom, and his mouth was gaping. “Brother, you look like a fish,” said Michael. “What on earth is wrong?”

(more…)

Trudging through the sand, kicking rocks, I saw the sky is slate metal steel gray - not pretty dove grey, not snow sky grey - but plain old gray, harsh and a little scary. The ocean was dark, roiling and churning, darker than gray, but not quite black. The wind whipped my hair across my eyes, and I thought I saw - but I wasn’t sure - I thought I saw something sparkle in the sand ahead. I quickened my step, and then stopped. Bending down, I knew that this was not something to be picked up and held. Gently I brushed the sand from the surface. It was a shell, scalloped and curving and pink around the edges. It was larger than most shells I had seen in Virginia, bigger than my hand, even with all my fingers outstretched. And in the centre, it was polished to a high gloss. In it, I could see the sky, the clouds scudding past, and my face, barely distorted in reflection. My fingers reached unbidden, and just barely brushed the smooth, warm surface.

Another face appeared in that polished surface - not mine! - and I jumped. I looked quickly over my shoulder. Did someone approach behind me? In this wind, with the roar of the ocean, I would never hear another. But no, nobody was there. I looked back into the shell, and the face was still there. I thought it was a man, but his face was rather lumpy and misshapen. And yet, I could not call him ugly. Homely, perhaps, because in the midst of the lumps and bulges, his eyes sparkled and the corners of his mouth turned up, as though he was trying to conceal a grin. There was beauty to him, hidden behind that mushed-up face.

“Can you see me?” The words tumbled from my mouth, before I could think of something appropriate to say.

(more…)

(more…)

The first memory I have of a brush with the infinite was when I was almost-four or just-turned-four, when we were living in Army quarters in Indiana while my dad finished college. It was a summer afternoon, and I remember swinging on a swingset. The sky started to turn that strange pink color that it can get just before a thunderstorm, and the air felt electrified, expectant. The world seemed enormous around me, grass stretching out on all sides to the woods far away. And I knew a monster was coming. Godzilla, to be precise. I was frightened, and I ran inside. Mom wanted me to take care of some chore or other that required me to go outside, only a little ways, but still outside. I refused, huddled by the window to watch and wait for Godzilla, shivering with fear.

(more…)

John looked over at his brother James and tried to catch his eye. But it looked like James was very carefully keeping his eyes on the ground right ahead of him. John wasn’t surprised by this. He had needed some time to think about it all, too. But James always needed more time to think about things than John did, and he would get really nasty if John tried to talk about something with him before James was ready. And after today - well, John didn’t want to make James angry. What had happened up on the top of this mountain was like nothing they’d ever seen before, and John felt so many different things welling up inside him. He didn’t know where to begin.

(more…)

Molly knew better to say any of this. She knew how Mom felt about her spending time on the computer when she could be outside riding bikes or playing soccer or doing anything that would make her hot and sweaty and tired. Molly couldn’t wait until April, when she would turn 16. She was already signed up for the behind-the-wheel class at school in the fall, and she planned to be first in line to get her license the day she turned 16. Then she could pack up her laptop and go to the library or the sandwich shop or the coffeehouse, and she could do whatever she wanted. But until she had a car, she was stuck going where Mom drove her, which was never anyplace fun.

(more…)