The Burning Field, Part 5

   The Burning Field, Part 5

In the Elven language, the word ven referred to women, their lady parts. Also, in the Elven language, the word el meant all. Putting it together was simple enough, therefore, Elven meant all female. It was their identity. It was who they were as a race.

Elves physiology on the outside looked human, they were not. They were a distinct species and much different inside. They were asexual female, meaning they produced offspring by themselves not needing fertilization from a male, however, they did need their female mate’s participation. A female mate came equipped to help the process. Outsiders, noticing their romantic behavior or copulation would label them as Sapphic lovers unless they understood the underlying biological necessity.

They reproduced by themselves, but their chosen mates aided in the process with their tongue. In addition, the chromosomes supplied by a singular host meant their offspring would always be asexual female. They would always birth daughters through generations, or the mother tree. Elves thought of lineage as a progression upward, ascendants from the original mother.

How they copulated was peculiar and a closely kept secret. Elves felt, instinctively, if humans knew of it, they would label Elves vile or unholy. Some of the Elven reproductive organs were in their throat, namely, a small organ functioning like the human testicle, a prostate, and seminal receptacle, or sack, which refilled whenever emptied.

Elve’s tongues were long, wet mucus tubes, and muscular. They coiled at the floor of their mouths looking and acting as a human tongue during eating and speech. But they uncoiled during copulation. They were proboscis, and hollow like a straw.

Now, two exist. Only two, but two would do for a start.

The cave was warm and comfortable. Kaitee and Meann cuddled in front of their new hearth. They fashioned it from a huge block of solid stone which formed the south or far wall of the main room of the three-roomed cave. The stone had a crack from floor to ceiling so they widened the crack up to the surface, twenty feet above them, and jammed in a stone mantle, four feet from the floor. They floated in stone at the surface to line their crack, now widened for a chimney. Of course, they did all the heavy rock and dirt work with magic.

The hearth was six feet wide and four feet high, and four feet deep. They could cook at one end and use the rest to smoke the boar they killed. They hung the meat and sinew in strips. They enchanted the hearth to light when they wanted, and to make no visible smoke. They burned wood but only dead pieces they gathered, never cutting trees.

This was the largest room of the cave called the hearth room, or the sang’ambe in Elven. They had built no furnishings yet, but they had plans, and they were industrious. They worked from pre-dawn to much past dark. Exhaustion overtook them now, in front of the fire. Meann ran her fingers through Kaitee’s hair, as Kaitee laid her head on Meann’s shoulder.

Kaitee touched Meann’s tummy. They spoke entirely in Elven when they were alone. The Ancestors taught them their language inside their dreams.

“Since we are passing eggs, we cannot miss this opportunity.” Kaitee said.

Elves could feel the instant they ovulated, and they could also feel the instant they conceived unlike human females. There was no guesswork, medical tests, or pissing on sticks. It was a physical signal from the womb felt throughout their body.

“I do not want to miss it,” Meann said. “It is our first time.” She gently passed her thumb across Kaitee’s breast.

Kaitee lifted her head and kissed Meann, and the two bookends with brown hair, identical down to a mole on their shoulder, kissed furiously. They took their time, lingered.

Kaitee opened her mouth wide and Meann snaked her long tongue to the back of her throat. She guided her tongue under Kaitee’s tonsil and Kaitee began to pull Meann to her, her body, in anticipation of what was to come. I had never happened to her before, but instinct took over and she knew that her sack was to be invaded, and emptied, and it sent chills all over her. Meann found the small slit opening under her tonsil and Kaitee moaned.

Meann massaged the quarter-inch slit, coaxing it open a tiny bit, and Kaitee could not get enough. She pressed forward and her eyes watered. The sensation was like scratching a terrible itch. Meann’s had slipped beneath her breechcloth, Kaitee parted her legs, and Meann’s fingers found what she sought. Kaitee moaned again. The slit opened wide then, and Meann pushed her tongue deep into the sac of seminal fluid.

Kaitee cried out. Meann laid her gently on her back and moved over her, circling inside that sack, drawing her fluid. She sucked in big gulps until her long thick tong was full. She spun around, spread Kaitee’s legs and lifted her butt. She covered her vaginal opening with her mouth and snaked that long tongue into her vagina, through her birth canal and into her womb. Meann sent the first geyser of semen around her womb sending Kaitee into fits. The second spray made Kaitee shout, “GO! My love!”

The third spray sent her into the orgasm’s full fury. She kicked her feet, screamed…then it happened. It was like a steaming hot shiver starting started in her womb and up speeding to her head and to her feet at once. She had dreamed of the tales of this rush. It was the signal that new mother’s talk about in sewing circles and in markets. It was the signal of motherhood. It was the hot rush of pregnancy.

They lay coiled in one another’s arms for a long time. Kaitee shivered and Meann held her. Kaitee, red faced, reached to her. Kaitee held her face with both hands. “I’m pregnant! The motherfire came over me. Now, my most precious love, I want to squirt you!”

Kaitee kissed Meann and snaked her tongue to the back of Meann’s throat and found her sack. Meann opened her mouth wider. They made ferocious love and Kaitee impregnated Meann, too.

Afterward, they lay in front of the fire coiled together. “Our race will survive,” Kaitee said. Meann smiled and kissed her lightly.

“This is more important than making things, or witches, or learning magic. It is the most important of all, besides our love, of course.”

They touched noses. “You are right, you know. It is the most important thing – the survival of our race.”

They lay together daydreaming of what may come, staring at the fire and caressing as lovers do.

“How did you become me, and I you, and back again?” Kaitee asked.

“Twins?” Meann asked. Kaitee nodded. “I don’t know. All I know is, we must dry out this pork, and we must find honey. These babes must gain four pounds in four moons.” The gestation time for Elves was four months. They could safely have two babies per year. The Ancestors sang them a song, a nursery rhyme, “Four pounds in Four Moons.”

“Pragmatic as always,” Kaitee said. “I feel we are more than twins, though. We are much more powerful together.”

“That we are. There was something in our last dream that flew past us. Did you catch a glimpse of her?”

“I did. I think she was an Elve, a flying Elve. I think the Ancestors showed her to us as a premonition.”

“Hmmm,” Meann said and cuddled into Kaitee.

They spooned together, watched the fire crackle, and fell asleep. The enchanted hearth would keep the embers glowing for as long as they needed. The large enchanted hearth sent whips of smoke tendrils around the long strips of the boar they killed.

They slept and dreamed of the Ancestors again, but this time was different. Their pregnancy triggered dreams in such detail!

The Ancestors came to them delighted in their fertility! It frightened them at first. Before, all they knew of them was they were Elven Ancestors, women, but vague in shape and form. In this dream, however, they got good looks at the faces of the ancient women and they were beautiful.

One ancient Ancestor had long flowing red hair! She had freckles. The Ancestor got close to their faces, the same height as Kaitee and Meann, and spoke her name, “Rhonda,” she said. Kaitee and Meann bent their knee to her with a flourish, with their leg straight and sweeping their arms in unison. Rhonda laughed and clapped.

They wore glowing white robes and had long staves. Four Ancestors stood in a row and pointed their staves at something. They turned and realized they were walking. They entered their work room in the cave. They saw a work table with cutting tools. One of the Ancestors lifted a small saw and began to show them how to make the tools they needed for their bows. The four Ancestors paired in twos and kissed.

In an instant, they were in the forest following them. Rhonda turned over her shoulder, smiled, and said, “Darlings, come. Look upon the wood for your bows, your mighty Arc’oevena!” They came upon a fallen tree still with limbs. It was old and moss covered. One of the robed Elves struck her staff upon it hard and scarred it. The scar bled. Blood trickled out of the wound and down the bark. It clotted and thickened into deep red bark.

They were back in the cave in the room. They watched the Ancestors cut and prepare the wood for the kiln. They were very careful with the wood from the bleeding tree. It was scarce. Echoing around them, the women talked quietly about “Coemak,” or Heartwood, and its value.

Everything faded from their view except Rhonda. Darkness surrounded her form. She no longer wore her brilliant flowing robe, but now dressed in armor, hardened leather in layers and they felt the enchantments placed upon it. Her bustier was solid hardened leather and her leather skirt was in thick strips.

“I was Captain of the Royal Guard. Heed my words.” Her red hair was full and wild and parted around her long ears. “You must prepare for battle. She gathers humans around her. They will be men but not men, more. It was this combination that brought us down, twenty thousand years ago when ice moved upon the top half of the world. Make a place for the babes, but build your bows and train. Do it quickly. She comes.”

That dream faded.

They dreamed the rest of the night of bow construction and the sacred, secret rite that will make them bleed their blood. Teachings from the Ancestors filled them full. Their heads felt stuffed. It seemed the Ancestors were waiting for the two Elves to become pregnant to truly connect with them. Kaitee and Meann awoke before dawn, rested and alert and anxious to start working with all the new knowledge the Ancestors pumped into them.

It was time for breakfast. They were hungry after all that.

There was a rough stone stairway leading up to a surface entrance on the top of the ridge. They scampered out, naked, and went a few steps. They sat down, clasped hands and sang a short tune harmonizing. Two squirrels trotted toward them. They sang until the squirrels were within arm’s reach and grabbed their tails.

Back inside the cave, they stripped and gutted them and put them on a spit above the fire. They scampered back out, hopped up a tall tree and spread the remains for the crows. A quiet, quick trip to the stream in the dark was next.

Later, after dressing, they chewed roast squirrel and talked of the day’s tasks.

“Getting that fallen tree is at the top of the list,” Kaitee said and Meann nodded.

“Heartwood for our bows, the Arc’oevena. Coemak!”

“Ye! We’ll need the enchanted bulrush glue, and boar sinew, and deer sinew.”

“And several different saws. And a kiln.”

“What did they call the saw to cut boards to make the work table?”

“It was a table saw. The Ancients taught us the songs to sing to create fantastic enchanted tools,” Kaitee said.

Meann giggled. “Powerful magic. Tools that make no noise and leave no sawdust.”

“And pop away when you don’t need them, and pop in when you do!”

Kaitee nodded, grinning with a hot piece of meat in her mouth. “Do you remember the glue?”

Meann stopped chewing. “Yes! The little glue pot followed them around. We can do the same!”

“We will also meet the Dwarves today. I want them to bring running water for drinking and bathing, and water for waste drains into our cave lair like they did Tani’s cottage,” Kaitee said.

“A lavatory in the bedroom would be heavenly. What can we do for them in exchange?”

“Remember the song the Ancients sang to enchant their soft mallets for joint setting?”

“Oh! We can enchant their hammers!”

Kaitee smiled and took the spit off the fire and removed the rabbit left-overs. She bit off one, tore some meat, chewed and licked her fingers. “I’ll take these up to the trees if you clean the spit.”

“Done deal.”

They both stopped what they were doing at once and looked at one another, Kaitee on the stone steps, and Meann leaning into the hearth. “This is the first day,” they said in unison.

It was something from their dreams, a custom the Ancestors taught them. It was the first day of pregnancy. They must make something for the baby.

Kaitee went up and out into the early morning darkness. While in the tall pine, she surveyed the Enchanted Meadow. Morning’s rays broke on the horizon in a deep purple blush as Tani and four Dwarves spoke with a naked Dwarf at the stream. It was not hard to piece what had happened. There was another Pulling last night, this time a Dwarf. This was an opportunity to make a deal with the Dwarves. She hopped down, ran down into the cave, and grabbed Meann’s hands. She kissed Meann.


They disappeared


They reappeared with the group of Dwarves. The Dwarves jumped and grabbed their hammers.

“Easy, Dwarves,” Tani said. “It is the Elves I told you about.”

These sudden appearances were not easy things to grow accustomed to. It made them all want to rub their eyes. Tani smiled and Kaitee and Meann raised their hands in the informal “hello” gesture.

They talked at length with the Dwarves about the construction project. It turned out the Dwarves knew of their cave and had a blueprint of it. They mapped all the livable underground spaces in this area. But, before they could agree to the deal, they wanted a demonstration of what the hammer enchantment could do. They assigned one Dwarf to take the newly Pulled man to his new home, and the other three followed the Elves to an open field over the north ridge.

They placed the five-pound, wooden handled, steel hammer on the ground and Kaitee and Meann sat on either side cross-legged. They clasped hands, closed their eyes, and hummed the tune first and put lyrics to it. They began to sing. They swayed and sang in harmony for some time.

The women stopped singing, and smiled. “We picked this area because of the large rocky outcroppings. Sir, take your hammer and tap the huge boulder behind you,” Kaitee said.

A Dwarf with a long blond beard swung the hammer down and smacked the boulder. It shattered!

There was such a force the ground shook and everyone covered their faces with their arms.

The Dwarves were excited. “If one of our hammers could smash rock like this, think of what a dozen could do! We could mine a hundred times a day what we do now!” The blond bearded Dwarf said. He had long curly blond hair, too, and a bulbous nose. He was five feet tall, as were most other Dwarves, just a bit taller than the Elves. But they were massive, heavy creatures. Their arms were thick and strong.

“Little Elves, you’ve got your plumbing, and more if you need it! You’ve weighted the scales in your favor so much we will owe you for years to come.”

“Thank you, Mr. Dwarf,” Meann said.

“The name’s Dolgarth, sweetie. Remember it. I sort of run things. Now, how long would it take to do, say, a dozen more hammers?”

Kaitee and Meann looked at one another puzzled.

“What’s wrong? You can only do one?”

“Good Sire Dolgarth, when we enchanted the one, we enchanted them all.”


“All,” Kaitee said nodding. Meann nodded. Their long ears were pink at the top from the morning sun’s rays. Their yellow eyes glistened.

Dolgarth turned to the other three Dwarves. “ALL! HAHAHA!” he said and they went into a dance, swinging one another arm in arm. The Elves laughed. Tani laughed, so did Beezip and Feedleboo.

“Wait!” Dolgarth said and stopped. “We’ve got to get down to the others. Tell them to slow down. They’ll be halfway to Kentucky somewhere if we don’t stop them.”

The three Dwarves ran off toward their cave entrance past Tani’s cottage and up and over the south ridge. The Elves took Tani’s hands, one in each and walked her toward her cottage. They talked along the way and jumped the stream.

“What of the deer woman and her wolf?” Meann asked.

“It turns out the Dire Wolf can talk,” Tani said.

The Elves giggled.

“What? You knew, didn’t you.”

Meann looked up at her. “The Dire Wolf has magic, too.”

Kaitee said, “He hasn’t learned it yet. How are things with you?”

“Oh, it gets a little lonely.”

Meann pointed to the stars.

“Oh no!” Tani said. “I’m not calling him down again.”

They laughed.

“We have good news!” Kaitee said.

“Wonderful, I love to hear good news.”

“We are both with child,” Kaitee said. Meann rubbed her belly.

Tani stopped walking. “How?”

“We had sex.”

In her deep voice she said, “Of course, you did. How stupid of me.” Tani rolled her eyes and kept walking. They came to the door of the cottage.

“We have much to do Tani. We must get to it,” Meann said.

“Will you come by later? I will be out gathering straw for the winter, but I will not be far.”

“We love the way you work, the way you plan for the winter. Signal for us if you need us, Tani. We’ll pop over.”

“I need to tie a ribbon in your hair, Kaitee, so I can tell you two apart,” Tani said.

“I’m Meann.”


Kaitee and Meann faced each other giggling, clasped hands, and kissed.


They disappeared.


“I want the magic!” the witch yelled to no one at all. She listened to the echo of her words around the empty stone-walled room. She plopped down in her ornate throne while her stone stronghold built itself around her. “How do they do it, create the marvelous looking glass?”

She shrugged her shoulders up tight and swayed her long chestnut hair back and forth while she hummed. Her emerald green eyes glowed and an image of the looking glass appeared before her, but that’s all it was, an image. “Look at it’s fine design, it’s ghostly edges. How they can make it appear above me from hundreds of miles away. I covet it. How do they do it?”

Them. “It’s them now. Curse them! There are four now! Two in the womb! I can feel their putrid little fledglings in their placental murk. It hurts my teeth!”

She stood with her fists balled straight at her sides. Sickly green vapor poured from the corners of her eyes. “Does the world not realize what is happening? They breed like rabbits! This world will be up to their asses in magical Elves if I do not act to stop this madness!”

She began pacing. “Prosser is not answering my call fast enough. I need my men here, now!” She began to hum, then chant in the Eastern European language. She walked faster and chanted louder and faster. Her eyes rolled up in her head and turned white.


Brown’s Gym in downtown River Bend, Indiana wasn’t new by a long shot, but it was free. It was run by a Christian organization and all they required was to leave the bad stuff at the door, especially the cursing. It was noisy on most weekends and after school, and today was no exception.

Gary Prosser and a girl he had been trying to get next to, Vicky from New York, found a quiet spot in the locker room. She leaned against the locker with her hands behind her butt. His massive, muscular form was over her. He had his hand on the locker over her head. She looked up at him, wide-eyed, smacking gum.

“You talk a good game, Prosser, but can you score?” Vicky asked, swaying her shoulders. Her long, black frizzy hair brushed his arm.

“I can score as many touchdowns and you can stand, little girl. Let’s say you and me go somewhere more intimate and let’s get the game going.”

“Not so fast, big guy. My girlfriends tell me you’re only good for one touchdown per game.”

Prosser bit his bottom lip. He put his right hand on her round hip. “But it’s a long, hard, 100 yards, running touchdown.”

Vicky giggled. “Mmmmm. You get points for that one.” She rubbed his chest and his hard abs.

“I’m up for a game…” Prosser stopped in mid-sentence and stared straight ahead. He stood straight up, turned, and walked out of the locker room. Vicky asked, “What happened?” She sniffed her armpit.

Prosser left the gym, got in his car, and drove across the bridge into Kentucky. In his dreams, he had walked the ridges and valleys through the blackened burn and into the forest fire. He knew exactly where to go.

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New Story, The Rule

Anonymous wrote this about The Rule. There are some spoilers:

Hi Tom,

Your title grabbed me. It told too little to guess anything about the story, and it was too intriguing to ignore. It’s a good title. You could say the rule is what gets Kelly killed.

(…) skipping spoilers

Your writing is to-the-point, and you don’t shy away from difficult topics or scenes. It’s something I appreciate… The story is sad indeed, in the “this needs to be written about” kind of sad. What I mean is that this story could have happened, and maybe did (though I hope not).

Kelly’s character is described in precise strokes, in how he speaks, what he wears, the feelings he has for Devin. I think the name “Kelly” is feminine too, is it not? At any rate, his characterisation is excellent, and there is just too much to it for me to quote all bits that make me imagine him so clearly. I feel bad for him, that his life ended the way it did. He may have been a transgender, but we’ll never know.

You addressed the issue of guilt, of who has the fault. I’m glad you did, because it’s a question with no answer, but the story would have felt incomplete without it. It gets the reader to think, as well. We still have discrimination nowadays, although in most countries it has gotten much better.

Your story is not only sad, but revolting. The contrast between the peace and love attitude, and Kelly having to abide by the rule of not showing his feelings, not following his heart, is striking. I enjoyed reading it for the way you handle the words and craft the story, but the thematic left a lump in my throat.

Well done.

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