Mud

Within us each still sits a child
Whose earthbound spirit once ran wild,
To revel in lesser things of worth--
The wind, the rain, the rich dark earth.

Drawn to the essence from which they rose,
Muddying hands and fingers, feet and toes;
For the child it's not mind-shattering news,
That they've risen from primordial ooze.

Is race memory caught in those lifeless layers?
Do we need to touch what has gone before?
To feel and trace the clay-wrought patterns--
Of the no-longer-living who form our core?

Or is there safety in the inanimate,
That we can chip and churn and dominate?
To mould or pulverise at will,
Needing only a flair for destructive skill.

If it all should change and go awry,
If the bad ones win and the good ones die,
If the fire burns but does not consume,
And a cherub's kiss is the bite of doom?

If the mud should flow in a pensive course,
To lash at you with disastrous force?
Natural laws twisted and run amok
And survival keyed to speed and luck?

Would you flee the battle and end the strife,
Run from predators and win your life?
Or stay and fight, in a useless duel,
Like the headstrong child, the wilful fool?

by N. D. Hansen-Hill

Long ago, a cluster of seeds found their way through a dimensional portal, to germinate in Earthen soils under a yellow sun. More than likely, the passage was accidental--the seeds somehow clinging to fur or rough clothing--to be flung to the ground upon arrival in this world. The touch of the Earth was magic: the age-old magic of germinating root and stem. The seedlings flourished, growing aloft to take and hold their small stand of ground. They spread outward from the portal, and became its sentinels: their strangeness kindling a fearful response, that provided a safety zone for those travelling the portal, against the likelihood of discovery.

Beings of the Earth were unaware of this dimensional easement, having no vision to see the glowing lights, nor hearing capable of acknowledging the gate's powerful roar. Earthlings recognised only a feeling of discomfort in the vicinity of the portal, and were made uneasy by the strange responses of watches and compasses to the electromagnetism of the place. Only those with the genetic make-up to travel the gate, could actually be witness to it.

Through the years, the secret of the portal became known to a few, mainly through their own folly. Burning the wood from the Trees gave rise to a genetic mutation, that altered all who inhaled the smoke. Mutants could see, and hear, and walk, where no Earthling had been able to go--to use dimensional portals to journey to and through worlds that humankind had only imagined.

Humans were not alone in traversing dimensions. Many of their companions bore similarities to creatures named in human mythology and tradition--creatures who had dwelt briefly on the earth, then gone on to unknown destinations. Humankind pronounced them dead, or non-existent. Mutant humans merely shook their heads, and waited for the inevitable day when they would meet these creatures, in their world or others.

The changes in the human form incited pity in some, envy or greed in others. Peter, Trevor, Katy, and Mari were the most recent victims of smoke from the Trees, and had suffered at the hands of their fellow humans, who wanted to harness and use this latest genetic mutation.

Through shared effort, and with the help of staunch allies, they'd survived. And, somehow, in the hours of fear and risk, these allies had become more than that--they'd become friends. Among them were Thyme and Lily--two fairies who had offered help and received it, in a give-and-take effort that had forged a strong bond between humans and off-worlders. Other helpers, from gnomes to gargoyles, had risked their freedom, and shown that kinship is more than a genetic linkage.

Their worst enemy had been another mutant, whose genetic alteration had been rough and painful--lacking the smoothness of those whose cells linked smoke and air. In battling this monstrous entity, many trans-dimensional helpers had been called into the fracas, to salvage the lives of those they had come to value, and call friend.

Now, the victors rest. The Trees stand quietly, while people born in two worlds romp and play, enjoying the novelty of their Earthly visit.

Peter shook his head as he carefully manoeuvred through the ruins of his front hall. After a few days of climbing in and out of the holes held together by carpet, he was developing a steeple-chasing technique of leaping from one firm place to the next. He entered the lounge, momentarily relieved to find it near-empty, then panicking as he wondered where all the usual inhabitants had cavorted off to, and what trouble they were likely to be in.

Katy was there, and he was amazed to find two wongnits sharing the big wing chair with her. Melpis was draped across Katy's lap--her head and tail flopping awkwardly over the chair arms. She was crooning in contentment, as Katy stroked her furry coat, while Deron paced restlessly back and forth across the couch, up onto the chair back and down again. He was waiting for Melpis to tire of this, so they could play. What Deron really wanted was to swing from the curtains and curtain rods, but the humans were watching, and certain activities were best reserved for those wonderful moments when humans were busy doing something else.

"Hello, Love--" Katy reached out a hand to Peter, the glow in her eyes brightening at the sight of him.

He couldn't believe how beautiful she looked to him. The green of her skin held a bluish tinge, that mingled with a golden cast to make her appear like some rare being in ornamental plumage. "What are you thinking about, Peter?" She tilted her head, giving him a joyful smile.

"How exotic you look, Katy-my-love."

She frowned. "Exotic. That's just another way of saying strange. Maybe freakish would be a better word."

Peter came over, using one hand to shove Deron off the back of the chair, and the other (while he had Katy occupied with a kiss), to push the near-somnolent Melpis on to the floor. On hearing a hiss, he looked at Melpis, saying simply but firmly, "Mine." Then he turned back to Katy, tugging a waist-length piece of hair out to study it, then moving it aside to trail kisses across her neck.

"You're changing the subject," she said.

"What subject?" he muttered.

"Of my looks. And what you think of them."

Peter cleared his throat. He hated this topic. Whatever he said always seemed to get him in trouble. But now, he felt he had a safe answer. "I think you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, Katherine Ryder." He smiled, anticipating a warm response in return.

Instead, he sensed Katy was near tears. "But, Peter," she asked, "didn't you think I was beautiful before?"

Trevor came bounding in then--hesitating when he realised he was interrupting something. "I'm sorry, you two." He grinned apologetically. "Sometimes I forget this is your house."

Katy felt embarrassed. Putting her arms around Peter to give him a squeeze, her glance a quick apology, she said to Trevor, "If you ever apologise for being here again, Trev--either you or Mari--I'll turn you so many colours of the rainbow--" she grinned as she wiggled her fingers at him in the mock threat, "--that not even Mari will be able to change you back. Got it?"

Trevor looked at his green frame. "Hey, that might not be a bad idea. This green is passé." He looked pointedly at Katy. "It used to be relatively rare, but now every Thomasina, Richelle, and Harriette is wearing it." Mari strolled into the room, and his eyes followed her. "Although, I must admit, it looks much better on you two than on the originals."

"What looks better?" Mari looked around at the others.

"Green," Peter said. "I was in the middle of telling Katy she's a rare beauty, when Trevor came in and spoiled my line. It was an emotionally moving moment--"

"More like bowel-moving, if that was the end of it I heard." Trevor sank down into a chair, and tugged Mari into his lap: something that was quickly becoming a habit. "You just don't understand women, Peter. Mari--"

She turned to look him in the eyes.

"--here, knows I adore her. Now that this has all happened--" he waved his arm to indicate their four green forms, "I don't see why we can't make your upcoming nuptials a foursome. What do you say, Mari?" Mari had stiffened while he was speaking. Now, she looked at him, her eyes bereft, then stumbled from the room.

Katy looked at Trevor, her expression aghast. "Oh, Trevor!" she said. "How could you be so insensitive?" She disengaged herself from Peter's arms and ran after Mari.