My Grandmother

As my grandmother nears the end of her life, memories have flooded in, cascading over the sad reality that she will no longer be with us.

Easily my fondest memory (that is also slightly embarrassing to me at least) was my first visit to Phoenix. I want to say I was twelve or thirteen years old. It was in the fall. My cousin Parker and I thought it would be smart to play football outside on a rock-and-cactus-covered front lawn. Sure enough, after a few minutes of horsing around, I managed to trip and fall backwards onto some sort of cactus. As I stood up from the cactus, everyone laughed/gasped as numerous needles were visibly poking through my jeans.

Parker and his sisters help me waddle inside, and my mom takes me into the bathroom. This is where Grandma comes in. As Mom is helping me pull needles out of my butt, Grandma is nearly hysterical.

“OH MY GOSH!” She exclaimed to everyone in the front room. “Look at his butt!” My grandpa Reed was sitting in his favorite chair, trying not to laugh, as she wanted everyone to look at my needle-infested bum. I don’t know how many people saw my behind, but she went on for quite some time about it. She made it sound like my ass was covered in a forest of needles. In reality, I maybe had ten to fifteen.

“I don’t need to see the boy’s behind, Elizabeth,” Reed laughed. Finally, my mom closed the bathroom door before more hysteria could occur. This was a classic memory I will remember forever.

There was also a dark moment of my life, when I was the most depressed and the most in need of help. I reached out to Grandma, and she gave me money when I was most desperate, and did so without question. This is the Grandma I will remember.

She always wanted to make sure I was fed. She would send me home with food. Was I comfortable? Did I need anything?

I know even as I write this, she wants me going to church and raising a family, but ultimately, she knows I am happy and content, and she can accept that.

Is she perfect? Of course not, but she is my Grandma, and she loves her grandkids with a fiery passion that is seen in how my mother loves her children and grandchildren.

She will be missed. Whatever happens after this life, I she finds peace.

The Tsethlekai Comes

The Holy Text of the Tsethlekai Cult

Note: most of these are oral stories that have been shared over thousands of years. The first written text of Tsethlekai stories goes back to 1874. Found at a Native American ruin in South Dakota, the text was highly damaged. As such, certain sections have been filled in by the Chosen Fifteen, the leading Vicar of the Cult of Tsethlekai. This version has been translated to English.

Creation

In the beginning, there was dust and death. From the dust and death came the Old Gods that molded our world.

There was Vantar-ma, the Giver. She sacrificed herself, her fiery insides spewing forth to create the land.

Win-Forsythe, the Air. His monstrous gaseous body created the air we breathe, and the water we drink.

Ploca-Norat, She Who Gave Life. She spread her spores onto the land, giving us plants.

Xiogenesii, the Provider. He spread his seed upon the earth, creating animals and man.

For (millions) of years, the world evolved and a delicate harmony was crafted. The Old Gods looked over their creation in pride.

Then came Tsethlekai the Chaotic. The swirling dust and death leftover after creation, Tsethlekai roamed the world upsetting the balance the Gods had created. Cleansing through fire and shadow, Tsethlekai the Chaotic destroyed with malice. It wanted the (world?) reborn in its image. Mountains were leveled, oceans and lakes were dried, and life was wiped out.

The Gods fought back. They forged (weapons? Creatures?) to combat Tsethlekai, but each (creature/weapon) they created was destroyed with ease. Tsethlekai grew in power with each kill. Man began to worship Tsethlekai in fear, ignoring the old God’s pleas to forsake it.

So, the Gods turned their back on their creation, powerless to stop Tsethlekai’s rise.

Tsethlekai grew bored without enemies worthy of its menace, and so it fell into a deep sleep below the ground, satisfied with its attempts to reforge the world in its image. Tsethlekai would awaken on occasion to stretch and remind us of its power, destroying again to reform the planet when it grew too prosperous.

Now, Tsethlekai slumbers, sending its dreams to us. We see its spirit rising. We feel its desire, its chaos.

Tsethlekai will awaken again, and we will prepare the world for our god’s arrival.