This is a preview of "Fire, Fur, and Ash Spots," a story Joe F. is currently working on.
There was an issue in Africa. Deep in one of its jungles, near one of its god’s temples, a son of a mighty leopard god was slaughtered. His tongue removed so that his spirit could not drink; His claws ripped from his paws to harden his afterlife hunt; His teeth lay near his corpse but far from his mouth so that his pride was fractured; His guards and subjects heads were bashed in so that no one nearby could mourn. Having lost king and son in one night, a leopard god was furious. The fur attached to his skin was set ablaze as it sizzled in orange heat. His spots were as black as the bodies burned to honor the lives they once held. The leopard god was furious and he wanted the head of his son’s murderer. He did not care for the pacts and laws and agreements that barred gods from direct involvement with the world; he wished to leave his temple and wreak havoc in the jungle until justice rang through the trees and ground and sky. He would burn the trees and its resting birds and hungry frogs and smelly fungus if it meant justice would ring through the ground and sky. He would burn the ground and its crawling critters and vibrant plants and nutritious soil if it meant justice would ring through the sky. He would burn the sky and its floating clouds and bright moon and starry night if it meant justice would ring through him. The leopard god was furious and could not be allowed to leave his temple for all that would be left are embers and smoke in his wake. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- So four mediums were sent to deal with the issue. A thoughtful Monk. An arrogant Allamah. A prideful Priest. And a brash Non-believer. The monk walked alongside the others with no shoes on his soles. He believed that he should take the world was is and learn from it all that he can. His body was shaven of all hair, his robes were as thin as air, and his hand stayed over his chest so that he could be thankful every second his heart pumped. The Allamah walked alongside the others, thinking them brainless barbarians. He thought that he’d been sent to fix another issue by himself and three paperweights. His scripture in hand he thought the Monk uncultured, the Priest stupid, and the Non-believer out of line. The Priest walked alongside the others with too much confidence. He had recently been given his position and thought himself on top of the world. He had a hard time discerning his thoughts and Jehovah’s whispers. He thought the others lucky that he was present. He was favored by his god and they should be favored too by proxy. Young and inexperienced, he walked as though this work familiar. The Non-believer walked alongside the others with scorn. She had no reason to trust gods and many to despise them. She found the others blinded by their faiths and texts and gods. She told herself that she alone would be the neutral party in this. With no gods or devils to answer to she knew what she wanted: to find the killer and bring them to justice with as little bloodshed as possible. She did not fear blood but she did not crave it. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- A quarter the size of a mountain, with the same amount of stone in its construct, the temple of the leopard god stood proud surrounded by miles and miles of forest, hidden deep in the jungle. The surrounding forest had latched onto the temple like a parasite. Centuries of time had lead to tree roots wrapping themselves loving around the infrastructure, greenery sprouting from the cracks and weeds being ever-present on its steps. Weighing heavy on the ground beneath it, the stone dome of a temple was supported by 10 large pillars and held 10 rooms in itself. Nine of the rooms were boring and plain; there were rooms to sleep, eat, play, do laundry, relieve oneself, and teach others. All these rooms only held the specific essentials needed for it. They all were lined in a circle connected by a large, circular, repeating hallway that held the last room in its center. The center room was lined in gold, its walls covered in tapestries, and its floor flooded in offerings. In the center of this room was a large plate-shaped thing that had a forever burning fire under it. In the center of the temple, in the center of 9 rooms, in the center of a circular hallway, in the center of a gold-lined room, in the center of a plate that never went cold, was a god of fire fur and ash spots. A leopard god rested on his plate, furious, flames crackled under his skin and deep black smog came from his ears. As large as a three-story house the leopard god’s face was scrunched in an unpleasant way and he bared his teeth at all who gazed upon him. He was very unhappy and the rare sight of 4 mortals that dared not worship him in his temple didn’t make him any happier. Speaking hotly because the only day he’d speak cold was when his corpse was laid on the forest floor the god repeated what the four already knew. “Eight miles east of me a son of mine was slaughtered in his home. Those who surrounded and praised him and protected him were killed alongside him. I want the one guilty brought before me. If he is not found within three days my search will start regardless of what you mortals say. If my search burns Africa to the ground you will find that I wouldn’t care.” Joe F. is a Junior at FHS and an active member of Epiphany. He is a self-described "lover of comics and competent writer." He enjoys creating comic books in his free time. Comics and candy are his forte.
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About Epiphany
Epiphany Literary Magazine is a safe space for students at Franklin High School to share their creativity. Archives '16-'20
June 2020
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