My days start with pots and pans. As they roll further, I push 'l' after 'p' and cook stories. :)
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“If
you dare break the glass around me, dare peep inside …… beyond the pride, which
you call luster ..…. beyond two and half a millennium - stashed, trapped, within
my pores … born of clay, burnt of fire, touched by a few twigs ..… I’m all
Memory …... of decays of my long-gone siblings and clan .....”
Through this outburst she confided
for the first time. In a summer afternoon. I was sitting before her,
appreciating red and black figurines on her lustrous black surface. At Northern
Hall in this Villa de Papyri replica. Off duty.
If lucky, my post on duty used to be
her. Else, I used to spend awhile with her after my shift. That “awhile” used
to range from half an hour to hours, depending on my other jobs and family engagements,
since my first visit here, half a decade ago, to reconnect to my Mediterranean
roots.
Since that summer afternoon she used
to sprinkle at me bits and pieces of her ancestry. Her passage from a
Mediterranean island to this Pacific coast in New World.
That summer I spent several
afternoons with her. My son was camping North. His mother was doing afternoon
shifts at one job and evening on the other. I had only day and evening shifts
in all my jobs.
I started here anew doing odd jobs
since I had fled a military coup d'état, more than a decade ago. One of my jobs
was at a Gas Station on Sunset Boulevard.
Mr. Benenio Klavan, my rescuer, used
to be a regular customer there. He visited Turkey several times on journalistic
assignments. He used to talk about home a lot. Once he suggested, “Why don’t
you visit Getty Villa on PCH, Rafiq? You might feel at home. The ancient odor
of life that you miss here, you may feel that there.”
Therefore, there occurred my first
visit to this repository of ancient Mediterranean life. I still have my first five-dollar
parking stub.
Soon after, I sought employment with
them. Because of my Mediterranean memory they hired me.
Then came repatriation. Intellectual
property laws were making the vase to return to Athens, Greece.
I got my ultimate opportunity to
hold her in my arms. She sighed, “This’ so much wrong...”
I had no time to sooth her. Instead,
I started wrapping her with bubble wraps. Then I peeped inside to fill it with
paper shreds and met Eutropios, the potter.
In soft light of early morning,
Eutropios was offering a prayer to Athena. Euaristos, his son, joined him.
After that the father started wheeling vases. The son was drawing and curving
on the surface of already dried pots, applying slip on them.
Eutropios
left the wheel to knead some fresh clay out of natural pool. Euaristos took his
turn on the wheel to scrub off excess mud from previous day’s sundried pots and
vases.
Methodios, Eutropios’ apprentice,
had just arrived. He brought some natural clay and was pacing towards the
natural pool to sink it for getting rid of its impurities.
Suddenly, Methodios threw off the
clay; rushed to the kiln, took out the firewood splinters from hearth, splashed
water on it. Immediately the kiln was full of fume instead of flame. There were
pots and vases inside for first baking. With sudden drop in temperature they
all became crudely baked. Euaristos murmured, sticking his eyes on the wheel,
“What’s wrong with you?”
Methodios spat his answer, “Wrong
you are and your father. All you worship is Athena and Hestia. You must obey
Circe. She sent me, Omodamos, to convey her wishes.”
Eutropios listened and asked Methodios,
“Take the day off.”
Yet,
Methodios stood stubborn by the kiln. Eutropios ignored him, prayed to Hestia, adjusted
the flame in kiln and placed next batch of potteries for burning.
Methodios shrieked, “You didn’t pay
heed!”
Then, he brought a log from the
riverbank, rammed the kiln with it. Fumes started pouring out through cracks of
the shattered kiln. Methodios grumbled, “Lesson from Syntribos.”
Leaving
all work in hand, father and son started mending the kiln. They were too busy
to mind Methodios.
Worshiping Hestia, again, Eutropios
ignited the kiln. Euaristos put another batch of potteries in it.
Methodios charred the kiln wholly by
airing it too fast and chuckled, “A spank from Asbestos.”
Euaristos
ran to the pool, brought pales of water, drenched the kiln to cool it down.
Then, Eutropios asked for Hestia’s
forgiveness. Methodios responded by hammering the whole kiln muttering, “Wrath
of Smaragos!”
Sun was down. Eutropios called it a
day.
Following morning, praying before
Athena, as usual, he started working. Methodios pulverized the kiln, shouting,
“Sabaktes’ ultimatum.”
Then he ran away.
Eutropios had to, hence, started
rebuilding the kiln. Euaristos helped his father by mining fresh mud, carrying
it to the workshop, sifting pebbles from finer clay, kneading lumps and delivering
them to the building spot.
Once the kiln was ready to use,
Circe appeared before Eutropios. She demanded, “Obey me.”
Eutropios denied. Circe turned Euaristos
into a mouse.
Heartbroken,
Eutropios brought the mouse home. At night, he dreamed that Athena had sent
Hermes. Hermes whispered warnings about Circe into his ears and gave him an
armlet of moly to ward of Circe’s magic.
Following morning, Circe appeared at
Eutropios’ workshop. Before She could make a move, he grabbed her, dragged her
to the kiln, tied her up on the hearth, as if he was going to set her afire.
Scared, Circe murmured, “Untie me. I’ll
render such carnal pleasure that no nymph could ever render.”
Eutropios remembered all words of
Hermes; hence, ignored Circe’s alluring advances. Instead, he made Circe swear
in names of Gods, “I won’t further meddle with your affairs.”
Before leaving She brought Euaristos
back to his human form.
Worshiping Athena and Hestia,
Eutropios and Euaristos resumed turning wheel and burning pots.
I finished packing and sent off the
vase towards its land of origin, among its pugnacious ancestors. |
| Also available at Google Books |
Thank
You Denise for guiding me through the details about participating in WEP Flash Fiction Challenges.
WORD
COUNT: 993
FCA
– FULL CRITIQUE ACCEPTABLE
It will be great if you weigh every word exploited here and give your honest opinion blatantly.
It will be great if you weigh every word exploited here and give your honest opinion blatantly.
