Daughter of Mars

Please understand, I did not write this to be un-American. Also, I realize that the title and the meaning of Neria’s name are at odds. That was intentional.

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Neria stared down at the flag that covered her father’s coffin. Her mind was filled with rebellious, painful thoughts. What did it matter if he had served his country faithfully? He was supposed to serve his family faithfully. America should have been nothing in comparison. But it wasn’t. He had always put his country first. And while most at the funeral were praising that, Neria was silently cursing her father for abandoning them.
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Elise felt tears brimming, threatening to drip out the corners. She would not let them. She would be like her daughter, Neria. Cold as the wooden coffin her husband was enclosed in. Oh, she loved him. And he was a good man. She knew she’d brought this upon herself, by marrying a man who was already married to the military. But she shouldn’t have brought this upon her daughter too.
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Neria wondered what her friends would say when the funeral was over. Would any of them know that she had loved her father, silent and untouchable as he was? Would they know enough not to tell her it was for the best, for America? Would they know that she would now hate America as long as she lived? She looked over at her mother. She saw her fight a battle with her tears. She saw the tears win. And she saw her mother slowly, slowly kneel down and sob.
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Elise knew now that if she was a warrior’s wife, it was by pure technicality. She felt herself on the ground and wondered how she had got there. She felt Neria’s hand on her shoulder. Dear Neria. Named after Nerio, wife of Mars, god of war. Back when she believed being married to a warlike person was a good thing. She needed to get up, not force Neria to be the strong one.
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Neria felt her mother shift onto her feet. She stood aside, to allow her to stand up again. Was she wrong in feeling that she was the stronger one? Yes, she was. Of course this wouldn’t cripple her like it did her mother. She barely knew her father. But, oh, she had wanted to. To listen to stories of skirmishes, of soldiers pranks, to learn special moves that would disable an opponent in moments. To be her father’s daughter. That was something she would never have now. And so maybe she had lost more than her mother, because her mother had at least gained something first.
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Oh, Neria, forgive your father, Elise thought. Her body was still weak; her shoulders hung limp and her knees were threatening to give. Neria, Neria, please, be stronger now. For him, for me, for yourself. I need you now. But she didn’t need to tell her daughter that. Right now, Neria was holding onto her elbow, silently telling her mother she was there. Elise could only hope that Neria didn’t need as much help as she did, because she was not capable of giving help at the moment.
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Neria watched as the entire funeral party saluted. She did not raise her arm. She felt rebellious; defiant of the country that her father had died for. She watched the two Marine soldiers, in their polished and ironed dress uniforms, fold the flag covering the coffin into a triangle.
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Elise received the triangle, tears gone from her eyes. For a moment, they had left her in peace. She looked at Neria. Neria was looking straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge the soldiers. She turned back towards them, saluted as they saluted her, and tucked the flag under her arm. She watched as the coffin carrying her husband was lowered into the ground. Then she turned and walked away.
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Neria stayed a moment, looking at the casket that held her father. Her father, the Marine. Her father, the one she wanted to know, the one she never would, the one she would cry over tonight. Then she turned and followed her mother.

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The Look that Killed
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Once not too long ago, a mother and a daughter went on a walk. Now, these two did not often get along, and often, you could hear their voices ringing throughout the countryside.

On this particular day, they chose to walk the South path. This path was very pretty, with different seasons displayed along it the further you went. No one had ever gone to the end of it, for the Wisdom Tree of the central garden had once told the first people that lived there, “On the North, East, and West paths, you may go as far as you want, but evil awaits at end of the South.”

Despite the warning, however, Shelinda and her mother went farther and farther along, talking of various things. Shelinda looked down and shivered, for there, on the side of the pathway, she had seen a rock change it’s form to a human skull, and then back.

Her mother, who had seen the shiver, but not the transformation, asked,

“Shelinda, darling, why did you not bring your mantle?”

“Because, Mother, it is not cold outside.”

“Yes, it is. I just saw you shiver.”

“Mother, it was not—’’

Her mother, hearing this, immediately fixed her with such a glare that Shelinda stumbled backwards and fell over the edge of a cliff nearby, and she was battered to death against the jagged rocks.

Nowadays, many people say, “If looks could kill…….” , but very few know that once, there was a look that did kill.

The End.

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The Mom Who Always Drank Pepsi
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Once upon a time, there was a Mom Who Always Drank Pepsi. Nobody knew why she did this, and they thought it was dangerous. Her friends formed a committee to help her stop drinking Pepsi. They took steps to prevent her eventual death by caffeine overdose.

One person hid away all the Pepsi in the ground, but the Mom Who Always Drank Pepsi, couldn’t stand this and went to the store to get more. The Committee had a real problem now. How on earth would they hide all the Pepsi in the stores? There was far too much for them to bury. There must be another way.

The Committee met again, and decided the only way to keep the Mom Who Always Drank Pepsi from always drinking Pepsi was to convince the Makers Of Pepsi to stop making Pepsi. The Committee was very convincing, (but doesn’t it seem strange that they weren’t able to convince the Mom Who Always Drank Pepsi to stop drinking Pepsi?) and soon the Pepsi company announced that it was closing its doors.

The Mom Who Always Drank Pepsi was inconsolable, and mourned her beloved Pepsi for Two Full Years. At this time, one of her friends who was not on the Committee told her about Coca Cola. He said it was much better than Pepsi, and suggested that she try it.

The next time he came to visit, he brought with him a can of Coca Cola. She opened it, listening for the pop to make sure it was just as fizzy as Pepsi. She took a small sip. She swirled it around in her mouth until all the bubbles were gone. She swallowed slowly, smiled, (here everybody let out a deep breath) and went ‘Aah.’, like all people do when they’ve just taken a drink of something good.

She giggled a little, and then said, “I like it! It’s better than Pepsi by far!” So from then on, the Mom Who Always Drank Pepsi became the Mom Who Always Drank Coca Cola, although in her later years she tried to stop drinking it, but that is another story altogether, and someday I may tell it if I am so inclined.

The Committee tried the same thing they had tried before, but they were not nearly so successful this time. In fact, the good ladies left the Coca Cola company very much indignant and very much humiliated.

The only sad part of this story is that since the Mom Who Always Drank Coca Cola never stopped drinking Coca Cola, she never discovered the wonders of Dr. Pepper.

The End

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Technically, I wrote this when I was five, but it was originally only three sentences long and was basically, “Once upon a time there was a mom who always drank Pepsi. Then she stopped drinking Pepsi. Then she started drinking Pepsi again.” I’ve changed the ending, and made it a little longer.