Very Superstitious

by Delany, Shannon

  The Glinn chuckled. “The same as every other leader they’ve ever had. One with a head full of straw.” Nick wasn’t pleased at the joke at his expense, but he recognized that the Glinn was trying to reassure him, so he let it pass.

  “Maybe not enough straw. The parts of my head that aren’t straw keep nagging at me. How can someone with so many doubts reassure others with the same thoughts?”

  The Glinn put down her own mug and stood up. “I wasn’t sure how to broach this subject with you. I thought I was going to have to be delicate about it, but after what you’ve told me, I think the more direct route is the best.” She went over to a large wooden chest that had been in the corner of her hut and undid its huge iron lock with a key that she produced seemingly from nowhere. She removed a bundle that had been carefully wrapped in oilcloth. She held it as if it were a newborn baby, and with the reverence one would give a holy relic, as she went back over to Nick. “The Monk-kind keep many of the Tribe’s secrets, but there is one secret that from the beginning was not given to them. This secret was entrusted to the first Glinn, and has been handed down from one to the next throughout our Tribe’s history. We only share it with one other person, that being the Crow, for two reasons. First, if the Glinn should die before she can pass the secret on to her successor, the responsibility of teaching it falls to the Crow. Second, it was always thought that any man who led the tribe should do so with his eyes wide open, and all the knowledge he needed. And that is the burden I’m now going to lay upon you.”

  She set the bundle down and undid the wrapping. There were three books inside, all of them old and quite worn. She picked up the first and handed it to Nick. “This one I’m sure you will recognize.”

  He opened the book gingerly, careful not to damage the already brittle binding and pages, and read aloud.

  “In the beginning, Dorothy lived in the midst of the great Kansas prairies, with her Uncle Henry, the Farmer, and Aunt Em, the Wife. Their house was small … ”

  He kissed the page, more out of habit than actual reverence, before closing it. “It’s the Book.”

  “The very first copy of the Book, written painstakingly by hand by the first Crow and the first Glinn, as our Tribe was beginning. This copy of the Book has followed us along the Road from the first stop until now, from Glinn to Glinn.”

  “But why would the Glinn keep the first Book? Why wouldn’t this be with the Monks?”

  “For one thing, to keep it safe. The last place someone out to destroy the first Book would look would be in my chambers, and that would give us time to spirit it away. The other reason it is kept here is so that it can be near to the others.” She took the next book from the pile, even older and in worse repair than the first, and gently handed it over to Nick. “Open this one next.”

  Nick carefully opened the badly worn cover, so faded and tattered that nothing could be seen on it, and looked at the title page. It showed what looked to be a metal man and an empty suit stuffed with straw sitting next to each other. He once more read aloud:

  “The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, by L. Frank Baum with pictures by W.W. Denslow? Geo M. Hill Co, Chicago New York 1-9-0-0?” The words were strange sounding, but vaguely familiar. He turned the page.

  “Chapter 1 - The Cyclone. Dorothy lived in the midst of the great Kansas prairies, with Uncle Henry … ”

  He stopped cold, unable to process what he was reading. He quickly flipped through several pages before stopping once more to read. “‘The road to the City of Emeralds is paved with yellow brick,’ said the Witch, ‘so you cannot miss it. When you get to Oz do not be afraid of him, but tell your story and ask him to help you. Good-bye, my dear.’”

  He slammed the strange book shut, no longer worried about damaging it. “What kind of book is this?”

  “A very good book,” the Glinn smiled, “one which has served its purpose.”

  Without asking permission, or waiting to have it offered to him, Nick grabbed the third book from the pile and studied it intently. It had a blue cover with a series of cartoon characters around the words “Disney Storybook Collection.” He flipped through it. “Snow White, the story of the Mermaid, the taming of the Beast, the Wooden Boy, all the other stories from the Book are in here?”

  “And more,” the Glinn sighed. “A few were considered unsuitable, although they’ve been passed down as a sort of apocrypha by word of mouth from people who remembered them. You might recognize some of them.”

  “I don’t understand. What does all this mean?”

  “The secret which the Glinns have had entrusted to them,” she said as she gently took Nick’s hands in hers, “is the secret of how our tribe began.”

  ***

  Nick sat enthralled as the Glinn wove her tale, charmed by the sincerity in her voice.

  At the end of the World of the Ancients, of which so little knowledge had been passed down, there were two young people: a man and a woman barely having reached what today would be considered the point of maturity. When their World passed away, they found themselves among a large group of young children. Knowing that the children would die without help, the man and woman set themselves up as the children’s caretakers.

  Needing to get the children out of the city they were in, which the ancients called Denver, the man and woman convinced the children to follow them by telling them that they were going to follow a road which led out of the city, out to the wilderness of the old land of Colorado and into the land of Kansas.

  “Like the Yellow Brick Road?” one of the children asked the man, having been familiar with the story chronicled in the second book Nick had looked at.

  “Yes, just like the Yellow Brick Road. We’re going to follow the Yellow Brick Road to Kansas, and to another big city, where we will be safe.”

  As time went on, the man and woman became known as the Scarecrow and Glinda, after characters in the book. Repetition of stories from child to child took on an air of sacredness, winding their ways into myths. As one generation passed into the next the smartest of the original group of boys became the Crow and the smartest girl became the Glinn and wrote the Book to pass their wisdom on to the newly born members of the tribe. They shared their knowledge and wisdom with those that came after them. They taught them skills like hunting and building, farming and nursing. The bravest boys became Lion-men, then Line-men. Those who were good at tinkering became the Tin-men. The smartest became the Monk-kind, entrusted with passing knowledge on to the young. The Glinn and the Crow wrote the Book from the stories that had been handed down to them, to serve as a blueprint for a preferred way of life.

  And they, the first Crow and the first Glinn, always reminded the rest of the tribe that they were following the Road to the City where they would be safe, and that whenever things got too bad they would continue down the Road toward their salvation. Toward their new home, for there is no place like home.

  ***

  The power of speech escaped Nick as the Glinn finished her tale. He couldn’t help but stare at the older woman.

  “Then it is all a lie. None of it is real.”

  “That’s not true. Dorothy and the witches, the Crow and the Tin-man, and the Wizard and Lion, they may not really have existed as we’ve been told, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t real. As the original Crow and Glinn intended, they serve as examples for us. They show us how to live in an ethical manner. They show us how to survive. And they give us something to aspire to: the City at the end of the Road.”

  “ … which is a lie as well!” Nick protested.

  “Not a lie. There are several cities along the Road. You’ve seen what’s left of several of them.” She took something else out of the chest and gently unfolded it. The writing at the top of the page said “Interstate Highway System,” and she traced her finger gently along one of the lines in the center of the map.

  “This is the Road: the Road we’ve all been following for generations.” She pointed at several different points. “This is where we were ca
mped when you were born, over here you’ll find where we are now. And all the way across this land of Kansas, you’ll find the City.” She pointed to a large dot along the road. “The City of Kansas, to be precise. It’s not the City of Emeralds, but it’s a goal all the same.” She lovingly folded the map back up and returned it to the chest. “That’s the City we’ve always had as our goal, even if most of the Tribe don’t know that.”

  “And what if we get to this City of Kansas,” Nick sneered, “and it’s not what we’re looking for? Or worse yet, if it’s not even there any longer?”

  “Then we keep moving down the Road as always. The Road goes well past the City of Kansas, although there’s a big river we’d have to cross and we can’t be sure if there’s still a bridge there. But in theory we could continue down the Road for many more generations until we reach the ocean.”

  “I still can’t understand it.” Nick was flustered and was trying his best not to scream. “You’re telling me that for generations now, our entire Tribe has been walking down this Road for no reason? Walking towards one big lie?”

  “Not a lie,” the Glinn corrected him, “a hope. That’s what the man and woman who led those children out of the darkness at the beginning gave them. That’s what the first Crow and Glinn gave to the Tribe when they wrote the Book. And that’s what we give to the Tribe every day of our lives. We give them a reason to go on living, to go on striving, to keep moving in the hopes of something better.”

  “But there’s nothing better there!” Nick protested.

  “We don’t know that. We ourselves have to hope for something better. And we have to give that hope to everyone else. People with nothing to live for tend to find a way to stop living pretty quickly. And we can’t allow that to happen.”

  Nick sat, staring into the waves his shaking hands were creating in his half-drunk mug of tea. After about a minute had passed, he found the urge to speak again. “So why are you telling me this now? Why spring it on me the day before I have to tell everyone we’re going back out down the Road?”

  “For exactly that reason. You, just like every other Crow before you, has to decide what he’s going to tell the Tribe. And every Crow has to tell them with the full knowledge of the truth. You have to understand why we do what we do, why we say what we say, and decide on your own whether or not it’s the right way to go.”

  She gathered the books back up, wrapped them up in the oilcloth again, and returned them to the chest. “And unlike some of the other Crows before you, you need to decide very quickly. I hope you’ll make the wise decision.”

  ***

  They buried the Crow the next morning, building a small funeral mound of rubble from the ancient city over top of his grave as had become the custom when saying farewell to their leaders. After the final rites had been performed, Nick turned to look out over the assembled Tribe, who were now looking toward him for guidance.

  “As you all know,” he spoke in the loudest voice he could manage, “there is a lot of talk going on about signs and portents, and what they mean for our Tribe and our future. People are wondering what we’re going to do next.”

  He stared over the heads of the crowd, picking out individuals as he could identify them. The Line-men, who had returned the night before to report that there was no wildlife to be found. The Tin-men, who had already started preparing sledges and carts to transport the Tribe’s possessions for a long trip. The other Monks, especially young Henry whose faith just a day before had been so unshakable compared with Nick’s, which was teetering upon the edge before the revelations the Glinn had forced upon him.

  He knew what he would have to tell them. He made the decision as the first stones were being lowered onto the grave of his predecessor.

  “What we’re going to do next,” he took a deep breath, “is what we have always done in these cases. What we’ve been told to do for generations. What Dorothy was told to do at the beginning. We’re going to follow the Road. We’re once more setting out for the City.”

  A murmur, somewhere between relief and elation, started among the crowd.

  “We may not have much,” Nick continued, “but we have hope. And sometimes, Hope is enough.”

  The crowd dispersed quickly, without needing to be dismissed. There was a big job to do and everyone was eager to get started. The traditional travel hymn started softly, then became a chant as others joined in.

  Follow the Road.

  Follow the Road.

  Follow, follow, follow, follow …

  Nick looked out at the organized chaos he had set in motion. What was he leading his Tribe into? What would the future hold? He was no longer sure. He had lost his faith, but he had found hope.

  And, sometimes, especially when it’s all you have, hope is enough.

  THE END

  Publisher Acknowledgements

  This collection would not be possible without the amazing talent and contributions of the authors including Shannon Delany, Jackie Morse Kessler, Jennifer Knight, Stephanie Kuehnert, Mari Macusi, Michelle E. Reed, Dianne K. Salerni, and Pab Sungenis.

  Author Acknowledgements, Dedications, and Bios

  Our contributors have chosen to include the below acknowledgements and or dedications.

  Shannon Delany

  Dedication

  Dedicated to my father, Morgan David Reinbold, who first taught me the old tales and traditional ways.

  Bio

  Shannon Delany believes there is no one right path to following your dreams. Previously a teacher and now a farmer raising heritage livestock in upstate New York, Shannon Delany has always been fascinated by history, myths, legends and paranormal research.

  Shannon’s debut series of YA paranormal romance novels, the 13 TO LIFE series, (13 to Life, Secrets and Shadows, Bargains and Betrayals, Destiny and Deception, and Rivals and Retribution) began by winning the first-ever cellphone novel contest in the western world. Her books were so well received by readers (and nominated for a YALSA Teen Top Ten) that her trilogy was expanded to five books.

  Shannon has debuted in science fiction in the Leap Books charity anthology SPIRITED: 13 Haunting Tales (with “To Hel and Back” featuring augmented reality work done by Karl Gee) and her high fantasy debut occurred in Month 9 Books’ charity anthology TWO AND TWENTY DARK TALES (with “Pieces of Eight” co-written with singer and songwriter Max Scialdone).

  Shannon’s new WEATHER WITCH series (a steampunk series through St. Martin’s Press) will begin to release in 2013. Learn more about Shannon at www.ShannonDelany.com, on GoodReads, on Facebook (13 to Life Series by Shannon Delany; and AuthorShannonDelany) and Twitter (@shannon_delany).

  Jackie Morse Kessler

  Dedication

  For Brett, who always helps me keep my head above water.

  Bio

  Jackie Morse Kessler is the author of the acclaimed Riders of the Apocalypse quartet; her short story “Thirst” is set in the world of the Riders a long, long, long (long) time ago. Jackie’s next book, the YA traditional fantasy To Bear An Iron Key, will be available in spring 2014. Jackie is just under five feet on a tall day, is working toward her black belt in tae kwon do, and is an unrepentant chocoholic. She lives in upstate New York with her Loving Husband, Precious Little Tax Deductions, and Parkour Kitty. For more about Jackie, please visit her website at www.jackiemorsekessler.com and follow her on Twitter: @jackiemorsekess.

  Jennifer Knight

  Acknowledgements

  Thank you tremendously to my family for helping me carve out time to write and be creative. Without you guys, I couldn’t do this. I love you all! Thank you to my amazing agent, Tamar Rydzinski for your continued support and dedication. You are one awesome woman. And thank you to Georgia McBride for giving me the opportunity to contribute to this anthology. I am honored to be a part of this project!

  Bio

  Jennifer Knight is the author of Blood on the Moon, and Blood Crave. She lives in South Florida with her husband and three small children, whe
re she writes during naptime and dreams all day long. You can find her online at www.Jenknightbooks.blogspot.com.

  Stephanie Kuehnert

  Acknowledgements

  I would like to thank the Forest Park Public Library, Augie Aleksy, and especially Adam Selzer for their help in researching the real Forest Park Flapper Ghost lore, which shaped Lulu’s character and her story. Adam taught me how to search cemetery records and found me long-lost articles about the Melody Mill ballroom. Thanks also to Jeri Smith-Ready for her careful reading and editing, not to mention the time she spent brainstorming with me to get this story perfect. I’m also grateful to my critique partners Tara Kelly and Jenny Seay, editor Georgia McBride, copy editor Zohra Ashpari, and my ever-supportive agent, Adrienne Rosado, who promised to bail me out if I got caught when I snuck into Waldheim Cemetery in Forest Park at night for inspiration. Fortunately, I did not have to take her up on that. Saving the best for last, a big thanks to my husband, Scott Lewis, for encouraging my writing habit and helping me figure out what sort of car Gwen should drive and how to break it.

  Bio

  Stephanie Kuehnert is the author of the young adult novels, I Wanna Be Your Joey Ramone and Ballads of Suburbia, both published by MTV Books. She got her start writing bad poetry about unrequited love and razor blades in eighth grade. In high school, she discovered punk rock and produced several D.I.Y. feminist ’zines. She received her MFA in Creative Writing from Columbia College Chicago. She is also a staff writer for Rookie, an online magazine for teenage girls, edited by Tavi Gevinson.

  Mari Mancusi

  Bio

  Mari Mancusi always wanted a dragon as a pet. Unfortunately the fire insurance premiums proved a bit too large and her house a bit too small—so she chose to write about them instead. Today she works as an award-winning young adult author and freelance television producer, for which she has won two Emmys. When not writing about fanciful creatures of myth and legend, Mari enjoys goth clubbing, cosplay, watching cheesy (and scary) horror movies, and her favorite guilty pleasure—playing videogames. A graduate of Boston University, she lives in Austin, Texas with her husband Jacob, daughter Avalon, and their dog Mesquite.