Rave Kodak
Bio
We witness and experience so many beautiful and harsh things on this earth. I want to share the beauty. The raw. Write about those things and create worlds from pieces of our own. I hope you enjoy my work.
Stories (8/0)
Mirage
The pain of the final contraction is excruciating. My knees are locked. My lower back feels as though my spine is going to rip out. I’m puffing like a surfaced whale, squeezing his hand. His face is calm which only angers me. He’s reassuring but I can’t hear him. The storm waves thrashing the boat are soundless. The pirates are ramming down the door. Only the thumping of my heart I discern. Loud and slow. Then the frail cry of my baby boy. I’m half sobbing, half laughing. My nose is running. The man kisses me and the three of us huddle warmly wrapped in the innocence of new life.
By Rave Kodak10 days ago in Fiction
Among Our Remains
The trees of The Marrow are eerie and lean. They loom like pale steeples. Their branches resemble thin arms raised in worship of the breeze. For as long as she could recall the forest had always been a solemn place. Even the birdsong subdued. The Marrow is neither welcoming nor wicked. Children are warned away. Told if you wandered long enough you’d lose yourself. Be eaten by the trees. Jocosa’s father Alaric, once a great warrior in the king’s army, taught her otherwise. Alaric understood the mystique after witnessing much of it in the war's pursuit for peace. He showed his daughter the ways of The Marrow the moment she could walk. They’d wander in at sunrise to stay till sundown. Catch balm beetles to use their wax for candles and wood finish. Jocosa enjoyed pressing the strange summer flowers while her father drew and journaled.
By Rave Kodak3 months ago in Fiction
The Parting
I knelt on the cold hard earth. His skull heavy in my lap. My fingers still caressed his brow even though he had long left for Valhalla. Snow dusted all the fallen. They lay mangled, like seeds thrown across a field from the farmer's hand in spring. A raven perched on a frosted helmet. She cawed. Mournful and soft. Ebony in the snowfall. I stood and began to gather wood. Shortly I built a pyre. I dragged Halfdan to it. Lay him across. His hand still gripped his sword. His face proud, even in death, resembled the brazen warrior he was. I kissed his frozen lips, “Oh my fool,” I whispered and with a torch ignited the woodpile. The flames melted a ring in the snow around his burning body. I watched embers drift up to the darkening sky. They danced with the white snowflakes falling against them. I met Halfdan on a winter's night many years ago. I beat him in friendly combat at the Solstice and we made love all night after. Bathed one another, shared the tales of our scared bodies. I grew up in a village of shieldmaiden. Killed a wolf when I was only sixteen years old. He killed a bear. Though his father was with him. I don’t remember when the pyre burned out. I don’t recall the raven taking flight. The field sat silent as I made my leave. My every breath was visible in the chill and Halfdan’s helmet crowned my head.
By Rave Kodak5 months ago in Fiction
Gape
When our eyes met, it was as if I could truly feel my heart. For the first time, I was acutely aware of its heavy presence in my breast, beating against its bone cage. The strong sense of serene behind his eyes eased every muscle in my body. I had never felt so sure of myself. He sat upon a rock, reminding me of a lanky frog from a children's book. He leaned upon his arms, legs dangling, playfully swinging. His toes were bare to the open air. I offered him a smile. Slight and warm, but confident. I dared not scare him to leap away. His eyes brightened, piercing me with pale green light. He straightened his back and his brow furrowed. He was studying me. I pictured the clockwork of his brain. Tiny copper gears grinding out what to make of this stranger. I smoothed my dress and sat crisscrossed on the bank. Selecting out three round stones, I began to juggle them with spirit. I stuck out my tongue and he laughed. The sound was softer than I had imagined. Far better laugh than my own which had once been compared to the hearty chuckle of a twelve-year-old boy. I fumbled my grip causing one of the rocks to bounce off another into the water. I jumped up into a curtsy as if that were the intended ending of my performance. He quickly slid off the rock and disappeared. When he returned he had a small blade of grass which he slid between his fingers. Lifting his hands to his mouth he blew. The whistle was strong. Carried to my ears by the wind. We faced one another from the opposing embankments. Our fleeting vapors of breath visible in the morning chill. Expressions sober. Jaws relaxed. He risked a wink. I bit my lip. Peeling off my sandals I waded. The clear water frigid against my thighs. There was a loud splash as he dove under the surface, swimming a circle around me like an elegant sea serpent. It surprised me how long he had held his breath. I felt a rough scratch against my leg and thought I had collided with a rock. He rose from the river and I lept back. Water wept off his skin. Skin made of lime and silver scales. Coating his arms and chest like shimmering chainmail. A pair of thin gills on his neck opened and inhaled the fresh air. I stood rooted. By fear or fascination, I couldn’t discern. The current grew stronger and I found myself being dragged under by the ankle. He gripped tight. Scales piercing my flesh. I gulped a breath and submerged. I kicked hard my free leg greeting his thorax. His hold loosened and I wriggled free, breaching the surface. I can’t fucking die like this! This is not how I go! Frantic I sought a weapon, a sharp rock, anything. I could hear him behind me. His gills exhaled like the air control valve of a car. I could feel my heart again. This time pounding, screaming for me to swim. I reached the bank. My dress clung to my legs as I attempted to heave myself out of the water. I caught hold of a thick tree branch as his powerful arms latched around my waist. The branch gave a loud crack. A sharp pain coursed through my cheek where the branch had drawn blood. I was hoisted back into the river thrashing against his hold. Part of the branch still in hand, I saw its end, now splintered and pointy. With every ounce of strength I could muster. I cried out. Drove the branch into his back as far it would go. He let out a sorrowful ear-splitting trill. I was thrown into the waters. His bright green eyes soured to grey. His body fell limp. He disappeared beneath the torrent of our warfare. The clear stream stilled infused with crimson.
By Rave Kodak8 months ago in Fiction
Shapes of Love
It was a modest thing. A black thing. Cloaked in moleskine. Tobacco and vanilla perfumed its parchment. I hadn't a clue then, the role this book would play. But I could feel it's importance. Its enigmatic significance. They called me demented. Madwoman.
By Rave Kodak3 years ago in Wander
