Looking back it was so funny how high school teachers would pull the “you won’t be able to get away with stuff like this in college, your professors expect you to be serious” or any hint that college is a Deeply Serious place.
One year in college I took a summer class on The Canterbury Tales because the super rad professor from my “Saints, Whores, and Warriors: Women of Medieval Europe” class was teaching it and convinced me that learning all the dirty jokes in Chaucer would be a rad way to spend the summer (she was correct).
Anyway, the university assigned us a modular classroom, or a trailer, and she was pissed. It was summer semester, you really couldn’t find one classroom on this whole campus for 15 freaks reading Chaucer? Really? So she decided to move the class to the little 1890s house on the other side of campus where the English department was and we could enjoy the nice former living room/dining room for the summer.
She leads us on our trek across campus, not really paying attention to us. We file inside and get seats around the table as she is unpacking her bag and getting set up. Finally she turns around to see all 15 of us eating one of these
“What the…fuck? How? Where did you all get popsicles?” Total bewilderment.
Someone explained that the GRE test prep people where handing them out to students. Her reaction was “well this is unacceptable.” And she went and demanded one of her own and we all enjoyed a frozen treat as we discussed the finer point of the Knight’s Tale in middle English.
Not to be confused with the time a kid showed up like 20? 30? minutes late for a different English class with the excuse “sorry, there is a bouncy castle outside and I lost track of time” to which the professor responded “There is a bounce house?! Class dismissed.” and just fucking left.
He finished his book almost an hour ago, yet he didn’t put out the candle flame illuminating his desk.
He didn’t know exactly why, maybe he thought the way the little flame flickered was pleasant, perhaps he enjoyed the way the thin trail of smoke danced above it.
Perhaps he was distracting himself from going back to sleep, the latest nightmare still fresh in his mind. He could almost feel the cold water invading his lungs.
So he distracts himself with the little flame.
“For how long, I wonder, can I keep this flame alight?”
He stayed awake all night, observing the little flame, feeding it small scraps of paper when it flickered too weak, gently patting it down when it consumed it’s candle too fast.
Exhaustion was creeping on him, he could barely keep his eyes open anymore, his common sense telling him he should put the little flame out before he fell asleep on top of it.
He ignored this advise.
Instead, he so carefully moved the little flame from it’s almost completely melted candle to a new, unused one.
Hopefully big enough to last quite a few hours.
Almost fearfully, he collapsed in bed, waiting for the horrible and familiar feeling of the icy waters encasing him on his sleep.
Instead, he dreamt of warmth.
—
Another day went by, then another, then a week, then two.
He learned how long each type of candle lasted, what sort of fuel feed the little flame the best.
It was now a bit of a pet project, to see how long he could make it last.
He remembers fondly how the little flame once encased the entire candle at once, flickering almost playfully.
Or how it hissed almost in annoyance, when he had to flicker it with water dropets to get it to a manageable size again.
He wasn’t sure when the pet project became just a pet.
Perhaps it was when he caught himself thinking up names for the little flame.
Perhaps it was when he decided on Orion.
In the following months not once did he dreamt of all encasing cold nor the impenetrable darkness of the depths.
He dreamt of warmth and light.
—
It was a holiday night, the kind that had most houses empty as entire families flocked together.
He was alone with Orion when the burglars broke in.
They weren’t expecting witnesses, just an easy job.
Though a single terrified man wasn’t too hard of a job.
They bought him down easily, and violently, demanding riches he didn’t have.
Orion gave a fearful flicker with each hit, it shook with each threat.
But when the bored and disappointed burglars took out the weapon, Orion roared.
The candle was ablaze in one second, the desk in two, and the burglars in three.
The little flame, now a massive, enraged inferno, embraced him fully and protectively.
He felt as much heat, as one would fill drinking hot chocolate in a cold winter night, with the company of a fully stocked fireplace and a warm blanket.
Orion’s body grew and grew, soon encasing the entire house, the flames growing so high and wide, and flickering so violently, they almost looked like flapping wings.
Later they will find nothing but an empty, charred plot of land, and blackened trails following the direction of the wind.
He left with Orion that night, never to feel cold again.
—
There’s the common misbelief that dragons hatch from eggs, when in reality, the infant form of a dragon is so frail, so small, that a misplaced breath might be enough to extinguish them.
But if one were to care for them long enough, love them long enough, the dragon will grow big and powerful, and return the favor.
Big fan of angels being autistic btw. “How does an entity like that have a neurological condition” Well they can act like that. Angels having traits that read as autistic. Incomprehensible being trying for their best mimicry of human behavior. You understand
First day on earth pretending to be a Normal Human. Eye contact is weird when you only have two of them. Trying out physical sensations. Touching things with different textures. Picked a leaf off a bush and ate it. People are looking at me weird. Sorry. Say something normal. Do you know when the bus gets here
Second day as a Normal Human. Not used to standing still because I’m usually a four dimensional shape turning within itself. I understand the bus schedule now. Blessed someone’s baby today. Trying out smells and tastes. Went to a bakery. People are looking at me again. Loudly announced I love bread
Third day as a Normal Human. I thought I understood the bus schedule but it’s not here. Got in an argument with a street preacher. The bus is here. Went to a coffee shop. Really enjoying smells and tastes. Blessed someone’s dog. I think I’m doing a good job
people always talk about evil clones like oooh a dark mirror oohh what if you saw what are cruel person you were/are capable of becoming. and well yes but what if you were the evil clone. what if you looked in the mirror and what you saw was so bright it blinded you. what if you had to know exactly how good you could have been.
“ohh what if my kid starts identifying as a CAT because of the trans agenda we have to prote—” well they’ve always done that. do you remember the psychological effects of h2o on young girls. of warrior cats on autistic children. i believed i was a demigod because of percy jackson. twilight came out and kids were telling their friends they were secretly vampires. this is just a thing kids do. worry less
[ID: A poem written by Jesse Hawke in the form of dialogue. It reads as follows:
“There is a werewolf in the town.
Is that bad?
There is a werewolf in the town.
I’ll take that as a yes.
How do you suggest we resolve this?
Well, what exactly is the issue?
There is a werewolf in the town.
Yes, okay, I heard you the first time. Is the problem that he is sometimes a wolf, or that he is sometimes a man?
A werewolf is a werewolf. How do you suggest we resolve this?
Work with me here.
The problem is that there is a werewolf.
What do you expect? Do you want me to un-make him? There are many men in the town, and a good number of domesticated wolves. What is the problem? That he was first a man, or first a wolf? Does that even matter? Why is the werewolf an issue?
He was first a man, and now he is a werewolf. There is a werewolf in the town.
Has he actually done anything wrong?
There is a werewolf in the town.
Was this forced upon him? Or did he choose to become a werewolf?
A werewolf is a werewolf.
I see. I think I understand now.
How do you suggest we resolve this problem?
You do not want there to be a werewolf in your town. As I see it there are three options. You could force him to pick between wolf and man, an agonizing divorce from his true being, simply so you do not have a werewolf in your town. You could force him from the town, which may come to be a blessing in the long run - for him, not you. Or you could allow him to integrate and accept that, in our society of men and wolves, there also live werewolves.
There is a werewolf in the town.
Yes, there is. Isn’t that beautiful?
How do you suggest we resolve this?
I am beginning to believe that the werewolf is not the problem here."
