The Rose War Re-amp

The Earth parted and opened her sky with claps of thunder that sounded like beating drums warning of the whips of lightning to follow. A proud Sen stood over the edge of Pocomo River admiring himself in the reflection of the water covered in ridiculous feathers unearned, wearing the skin of Buffalo.

“You see?” He said as he raised his hands over the river. “It's named for me! Paozokee!”

“For your delusions, Paozokee is Mother's namesake and I am the bloodline of her with no father or man to hold dominion over me. I will never bow to you in fear or honor, you are not my people. You are the Sirius's sky demon wrapped in my Ancestor's blood! I watched you mutilate and butcher my women needlessly and for that, I have seen your downfall, for that is Mother's prophesy!”

Sen began to frown when his lie was threatened with the truth of Mo's words as he turned and charged her like a mad bull and tackled her to the ground and said. “Let me show you what the Father does to those that disobey!”

He gathered her feet and placed them over her head to force himself and just then she announced a warrior cry so loud thunder roared and echoed across the river. Mo's legs pull and squeeze his throat with the strength of a Great Oak tree. At that very moment, a loose curvy branch that hung from a mighty Willow over his head noosed his neck and lifted him off of Mo. As he began to choke and gasp for air, out of the dark river a figure appeared. It was an armored woman dressed in black and silver. A silver blue arrow formed out her right hand cutting Sen down from the noosed branch. As he fell she pulled her headgear off with her mask still on covering all but her eyes as her hair hung loose and deliberate. She lifted him effortlessly against the tree and choked him now with her forearm staring at him through his eyes for remembrance. Thenia, the river-folk sister of Mo and beloved Mistress of the ocean Antakkanaa.

Mo stood to her feet and walked over toward him forming a strange hand mudra and suddenly Sen froze in place as if he was in a trance, his eyes locked in place looking to the left at her. Above the trees in the night, an Ancient Grandmother appeared filling the entire sky draped in white. Her hair was the color of pearl covered just below her shoulders with skin the color of cinnamon and the Sahara sand. And she lit up the sky with a fiery glow outlined around her.

“Jump the demon.” Her voice echoed the Earth like another clap of thunder breaking open the sky. Joining hands now Mo and Thenia bowed facing each other in prayer to the Great Spirit Mother in the Native tongue. Mo's left hand still holding Thenia's right, they clapped opposite hands together and stretched them apart as open as the sun. The wind began to encircle them as Thenia called the water and Mo called the fire while the clouds shaped around the Great Grandmother fiercely. Out of Sen's mouth water gushes out violently and he cannot move, numb frozen on the tree. As the liquid erupts out his ears, Grandmother lifts her right hand and a force of lightning travels up the sky and through the cosmos stars, she points up with one finger above. Mo and Thenia with their eyes closed now back to back holding their arms vertically and then horizontally kneeling in unison touching the ground and bowing in reverence and prayer. Both now pointing up above as Grandmother, cosmic lightening then thunder shook the Earth and when they rose and opened their eyes all that was left under the tree was smoke and his unwarranted war bonnet.

***

The Regency's colonists moved onto the land and the warrioress defeated them but the karmic debt for generations to come would ensue. A trail of bodies from Sen's army of defense would lead the colonists to the impossible. Mo and Thenia saved as many women and girls as possible and disappeared to the water while the regency adopted a foreign woman of Florence to mask that of a daughter of a false chief. The nickname of Pocomo was given to reflect the ultimate truth to honor Mo's ghost that would forever haunt us. Pocahontas.

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***Originally Submitted for flash short story (challenge to write under 750 words) Summer Contest Submission 2024***

From the original story:

Iades constellation began to descend when Mao stood up in disbelief and backed away from the sleepy willow tree cautiously. Rubbing her eyes blinking them repeatedly to ensure she wasn't still under the tree's mysterious hypnosis, she began to frown. Righted anger began to fuel within her blood. Throwing her bow and arrow through the forest she starts to run with rage and fear of what her next choices should be. Crouching down by the bend of Pomoke River, Mao screams. Appearing out of the darkness as if beckoned is Thenia walking slowly towards Mao.

“What is it, Sister?” Thenia asks cautiously. Mao lifts her head gazing the river winding down the acres of marsh.

“For all that we are in this life is already written in what will be assumed as history.” She replied.

“What is his story? Who is he that you speak of?” Thenia quizzed anxiously.

“Our descendants will speak of a story that will be told over and over again masked in different characters and settings speaking of false truces, and wins. But most importantly, our sisters and protectors will be under a forgotten spell that separates us all scattered across the constellation Iades exposing our tribes to corruption and ultimate destruction and what will be the fall of the Ancient Wisdoms.” Mao covered her mouth amazed with what she finally spoke aloud. “Another dream vision, Mao?” Thenia asked. “How much longer do we have?”