Spiro, Spero's Stories

White chrysanthemums bloom in her heart.

2008-05-28T17:08:08Z

She played her mandolin at the fair grounds twenty seven times a year. She always sat barefoot in her folding chair, wearing overalls, a moth eaten shawl and self-fulfillment. She would never be surrounded by large groups offering tips and requests, but she played just the same. Her songs are too soft and slow for crowds anyway, and they leave a bittersweet taste.

Listening to her play was religion; rituals organically formed immediately. This is what you were to do: Go up to her chair, alone. There is no need to make your presence known; she will know when to look up. She will play a song for you. Her eyes,filled with understanding and guilt, will never leave yours. After the song is over, she will look down. Leave, making way for the next person. Never leave money for her,(a small coin would never be enough), instead give her something meaning full. She has been given pieces of string, feathers, broken jewelry, old letters- all of which make their way into the large carpetbag that she carries.

The day he decided to become an armadillo

2008-04-08T03:34:47Z

In grade school, they all kept lists of animals they would turn into if possible. His wasn’t too impressive: turtle, blowfish, lizard, armadillo, cheetah, ostrich. Anything that could run fast enough, hide in itself, hide in anyway at all. Anything that wasn’t expected to face challenges that they knew were unbeatable, all while pretending to be brave.

He grew up to be an alchemist, working with metals in a small metal barn. While he could never turn anything into gold, he did find a way to fuse metal onto skin. After several tests, he created his full body cast out of strips of chain mail. it was comfortable enough to move around in: light, breezy and non constricting. Most importantly, it made him feel safe.

The metal started seeping into his body like a cancer. It first hit his throat and jaw, shielding them from the world—and from his use. The cancer spread through his body until it covered his heart, preserving him in a better condition than the Egyptians could have ever done.

The Monkey and the Maiden

2007-08-12T02:59:28Z

Monkeys make horrible spouses. They make even worse errant knights. (We won’t even mention how terrible they are at slaying dragons.) Yet here she was, married to this small furry creature.

It’s her father’s fault, really. He’s the one who signed that stupid faerie contract that obliged her to marry whomever rescued her. Unfortunately for her, there was a loophole in the contract that obliged her to marry whatever rescued her. Even more unfortunate was the fact that this monkey hired the best simian law firm in the kingdom.

Fortunately, she was excused from her ‘wifely duties’ on biological grounds. Even more fortunate was that her new husband was wealthy. This only made her life slightly easier. She still had to face social humiliation as well as the primitive behavior of her husband. His idea of romance involved grooming her. His idea of chivalry involved biting anyone who smiled. (We won’t even mention the things he liked to throw.)

It could, she thought, be worse.

She could have married a shrub.

The mating habits of aliens: log 2-56

2007-06-01T20:25:42Z

On this planet, true beauty comes from within:

“After we left, we went back to his place.”
“And? I need details.”
“He took out his medical equipment.” she sighed. “He had the most amazing bone density.”
“What about his intestines? cholesterol level?”
“His cholesterol level was very low. His intestines could use some work, though.”
Cheekily: “Did you get a good look at his brain?”
“Geez, we’ve only been dating for three moon cycles! I don’t want to scare him off!”

A pause.

“He did seem more than impressed with my gray matter, though.”