Stig, Part 2

The pup ran.  Azalea chased.  Cart vendors and pedestrians were collateral damage.

Azalea was going to catch that dog if it meant it would be her life's work.  She enjoyed running, but not just for the sake of it.  As people and dogs went, these two had reversed roles.  Azalea needed a ball to chase or a friend to play a game with in order to get her going, but once she was, the exercise was exhilarating and she could go for hours.  Doing that whole, up early, drink a healthy breakfast shake, and then out jogging five miles as the sun rose was not her thing.  The pup in question however would run from dawn til dusk if society would let him.  Unfortunately, unadulterated freedom is not something that dogs generally get to enjoy.

Rushing through the crowded streets of Precip, Azalea was too preoccupied to notice how quickly they were coming to the edge of town.  Precip was so named for two reasons.  One was the heavy levels of rainfall that the mountainside city was prone to throughout the year.  It was a benefit in that the town had a luscious environment characterized by deep greens, easy agricultural cultivation, and mild temperatures.  It was a problem in that it facilitated the second reason for the town's name, invoking the alternate definition of "headlong fall or rush; a hastening or acceleration, especially one that is sudden or unexpected".  For the most part the city rested on the only solid bit of mountain space left, the rest having been washed away over the centuries from its history of steady rain.  The trees were cherished within the city, but also grew on all the available crags around the back and sides of the city walls.  At the front end of the city, however, the space was open to the air-docks which allowed for Precip's survival in the steam age.  The city's air-docks  the center of the city's booming engineering business as world-leaders in airship and dirigible technology, were easily the busiest place in town.  There was constant innovation and experiments happening along the outer rim and also the general market and loading zone for all the workers and produce returning from the valley below that took over any spare space.  This was the Azalea-pup obstacle course that inevitably lead to the greatest adventure of Azalea's life...

Stig, part 1

Azalea wandered through the streets of Precip daydreaming about potential new passions.  She'd tried so many different hobbies, the idea of another was just discouraging, knowing the likelihood that in a few days or weeks, or even a month if she was lucky, she would lose her fire and return to walking the streets of Precip daydreaming about potential new passions.  Ballet, sewing, jewelry making, writing, cooking, numerous instruments, and the occasional sport all peppered Azalea's activity resume.  She just didn't know how to have passion.

Once and a while an idea would pop into her head which she would pursue fervently for a time, but overall Azalea's attention span was proving to be more of a sprinter rather than a long distance runner in the great foot race of life.  The only thing she could really commit to were people, but not without the expectation that they would lose sight of each other, for a time or forever, when life got in the way.  'Life.' thought Azalea, 'That's what I'm trying to do, but how can I without any foundation or driving force?'  So Azalea wandered on; until she smelled waffles.

Her mind was still somewhat absent, but her stomach and feet were collaborating in an attempt to acquire some waffle goodness.  Thus, Azalea soon found that she was meandering by a new fortune-telling waffle cart, located slightly off Precip's main drag.  The carts colors were very inviting, however the tall evergreens surrounding it were a bit disconcerting.  They all gave off the impression of conscious looming.  Not malicious or threatening looming, but a looming with violent potential, just under their bark.  Like bouncers who don't think much of you, or think much of anything past the tip of their cigarette, but who, at any moment, might find you quite interesting, the kind of interesting that would have an uncomfortable outcome.  Azalea noticed the bouncer-trees for only a moment before the smell of waffles and a beautiful face in the waffle cart window reminded her what was important.  Her stomach growled in agreement.

"What can I get you my dear?" the waffle-witch did not cackle.

"One waffle with apricot syrup topped with an egg, sunny-side up, please" Azalea replied.

"That's a bit of an odd combination don't you think?" asked Waffle-witch.

"Different flavors compliment each other, ya know" Azalea shrugged.

"That's wisdom you should hold on to.  One order coming right up" said Waffle-witch as she busied herself inside the small cart.

"So, how did you end up with a fortune-telling and waffle cart?" Azalea asked as the witch pored batter into the waffle-iron. "That's an odd combination if I've ever seen one."

"Well, we all have different talents.  Occasionally we end up with two.  Why let one go to waste just because of a little oddity?  Besides, it happens to be good for business on both ends; novelty on the restaurant side and food for people thirsting for knowledge but who suddenly realize they are also hungry for waffles on the magic side." The witch winked.  Azalea wasn't sure what it meant, but she knew magic wasn't real whereas manipulation and mind-games certainly were.  This provided her mental recesses with an inkling and tiny flag.  Unfortunately that flag told Azalea, 'get a fortune, maybe it will clear up your passion questions.'

"Ah" said Azalea, "so... does the waffle come with a fortune included, or is that extra?"

"Well, your my first costumer today, so you can have one free.  I'll fry it into the egg" laughed the Waffle-witch.

"Sweet sauce!  Thank you!"

Azalea was very excited.  She never had her fortune told before and this might give her just the answers she was looking for.  Her waffle order came out and she looked at the witch.  "Just break the yoke and tell me what you see" the witch said, answering Azalea's unasked question.

Not needing any further encouragement, Azalea tore into her lunch.  It was delicious.  After having worked around the rim of the waffle, Azalea headed for the heart.  She broke the yoke.

Azalea's vision swam.  Golden yoke was all she could see for a moment, then a pup came into view, although only faintly and it quickly receded.  Next came a submarine, but it was made of twigs.  On the side, written in blue letters, were the words Intrepid Adventurer.  Finally, she saw a treasure chest, the lock was a waffle.  Naturally, Azalea ate the lock.  The chest began to open, slowly.  The chests movements were so slow that for some reason it lulled Azalea, fuzzing her vision and causing her to start to drift to sleep.  She jerked her head back to wake herself, hoping to see what treasure the chest held, but she was back under the trees and in front of the waffle cart.  The witch was missing.  Now how was she supposed to know what the yoke meant?

Azalea finished her lunch and went back to wandering, guessing at the meaning in her yoke-vision.  'Well, the submarine probably signifies Bluebeard.  Blue writing, intrepid adventurer.  But what about him?  And why a submarine? Why made of twigs?  And what about those other two images?' wondered Azalea, although not for long.  Soon after leaving the waffle stand, Azalea quite literally ran into her second great love, puppies.  Young dogs really, but nevertheless, half a dozen collie-spaniels and one irate woman were quickly released into the city streets by Azalea's carelessness.

The woman and a few passing Samaritans managed to wrangle four of the puppies, one was playing within sight in a nearby fountain, but the last had run like the wind now blowing gloriously through his ears.  Azalea's apologies were drowned out by the commotion and she had seen the last dog turn the corner up the road.  Away she ran, solidly committed to redeeming her clumsy mistake.  Weaving through the streets, Azalea would just barely see the pups ears flop up here, or a disappearing tail there, but she never seemed to gain on the avid fugitive...

Dun Dun DUN!!

   Will our unsuspecting adventurer ever catch the illusive pup?!  What is the meaning behind the yoke premonition?!  Will Azalea find the passion she's looking for?!  Tune in next time to find out!!!

Azalea

"Life is self motivated," he had said.

Motivation.  She'd never been motivated in her life, there had never been a need.  Is being motivated a habit? she wondered.  Or is it a trait; like being clever, or charming?

Either way, she was 236, so it was time to try and find out.

Nervously, Azalea speculated on the pressures of doing things.  It seemed as if most people had had goals and been working towards them from as early as their teens.  But, she had also heard, "it's never too late..."

She thought about this phrase.  What was the original conclusion to that sentence?  What if it was something like, "it's never too late to bake cupcakes" or "wrestle that bear" or "buy new underwear"?  The possibilities were endless; though Azalea hoped it had been a food related conclusion.  Waffles preferably.

Anyway, she realized he was right and it was time to get on the proverbial ball.  Azalea loved that, proverbial.  You could slip it in anywhere, just like how every sentence has the potential to begin with the word "actually".  Wholly obnoxious, but grammatically correct...

Still, the spring in her giddy-up was still a bit less than self motivated.  But, she wasn't bothering with that for now, as long as they got her moving.  Besides, she was more satisfied that way.

I might say its about half me, half him.  She thought.  He's motivated.  And gorgeous.  And veritably thoughtful.  I suppose that's why he's the Philosopher.

He always got crazy, wonderful ideas, and Azalea loved them.  Then she loved him.  And then he made her want her own crazy ideas.  Bluebeard couldn't always hold of her reins.

"I'm going to work the yards today Zel," he'd said, "I'll be home once the weeds are tamed."

First chance.  Short, but sufficient.  Bluebeard was gone to sing peace into the weeds and bring a bit harmony to a garden or two.  What can I cultivate on my own?

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