myth for fragrant rabbit tobacco

Sweetie got into the habit of waking earlier than the sun — than anyone else in her family, and anyone else who was staying in their house that day. They had taken on guests. She was exhausted. She didn’t sleep enough, but the calm of the dark pressed on her exhaustion. She was awake but at least she was not dreaming of snakes or mice running up and down her back as she ruminated on terror. In those early morning hours she listened to her grandmother breathe loud in the other room. It sounded like waterfall. She cracked the wheat and mended the pants. She prayed the sun would not come up. But, without fail, it would. Sometimes it took the officials until evening to inspect the house. But come they would, and someone would have to be there to let them in. So every day was a puzzle as to who would be home when. It took the officials no more than fifteen minutes to changed the locks and line the threshold with a powerful poison.

There were a growing number of people living in the limestone quarry as a result of their homes being poisoned and taken by the officials who made them into offices. This is why those who still had houses opened their doors to their neighbors - and the houses went into a kind of rotation by the community.

The animals stayed away. The children cawed like the crows in a game only the children understood. People yawned like coyotes.

People still went to work though. They worked the land. Some even worked for the officials.

Shortly, Sweetie’s mother would wake up and throw a knife at the target outside before getting water. She said it stopped her hands from shaking. She and Sweetie both ignored the fact that they were also turning blue.

One morning sweetie woke to a soft light out her window. It was a woman, a stranger. She was wrapped in a cloak that shone like the reflection of the moon. She smelled like smoke and syrup. Sweetie opened the window and the woman gasped as if she had been holding her breath for a very long time. She started to cry, but sounded like a beast. Sweetie was almost scared of her, but let her in and made her food.

“I come from the mountains.” She said and let no one touch her cloak. She dared not take it off, even by the hearth.

That day, Sweetie couldn’t explain it, but the morning seemed to last until evening. It was as if the woman had stolen a small part of the sun in her cloak and taken it away.