This week, dropping a piece in a different drawer of Sideways Into Crazy, this is a flash piece I wrote in 2024. It originally appeared in The Lark, on Medium.
“There are clouds in my drink!”
The bartender and my friend Jacy both just smiled.
“Weird, this place is all very Addams family meets Diagon Alley,” I muttered.
I took a sip.
Coolness crashed through my mouth. I smelled fresh rain, those first few drops of a summer rainstorm soaking into the thirsty ground.
A rumble rolled through the back of my head.
“Wait… did I just hear thunder?” I asked.
Again with the mysterious smiles.
Another sip. Liquid washed down my throat, spreading relief through my chest, trickling down my arms and legs, and then a breath of moist air brushed my face.
I touched my cheek. A ghost of a raindrop dampened my fingertip.
Joy bubbled up, bringing a smile I didn’t know I still had.
My eyes popped open, as huge as my smiling mouth. I couldn’t help it.
“A summer rainstorm! In a glass — how…?” I stammered to the bartender.
She smiled back.
“You seemed — parched. Your spirit was wrung out,” she shrugged. “That happens when you’ve pushed past your limits; not able to process grief or joy.”
I took another sip, the cool wash changing. Pattering drops became waves washing on shore. The drops became a stream, filling my limbs.
I hadn’t realized how hollow I felt.
“You’re glowing blue Cas,” Jacy whispered.
“You and you’re ‘seeing auras’,” I muttered.
I felt my body rocking with the waves.
“Let the waves lift you,” the bartender said. “Mom-ing is hard work!”
I nodded, looking at my half-full glass. The cloudy layer had parted, showing a cerulean pool of liquid with wisps of mist trailing the surface.
Another sip … and my gut twisted as I thought of my baby girls at home with their dad and grandma. “I should-”, I stopped. The rocking waves hitched.
“Did I just feel something bump my boat?”
A small dark shape now showed in the bottom of the glass. An olive? It seemed - to move?
“What…?”
“Breathe,” the bartender soothed. “The babies are fine. You are allowed to refill yourself.”
I stared at the shape, it WAS moving. Anxiety twist-clawed my throat.
Another bump.
The mist was now shredding over the remaining blue liquid in my glass. I heard a distant roar.
My heart pounded.
“Why am I hearing wind — in the trees? And what’s in the water?”
“Close your eyes,” the barkeep ordered. “And find that coolness filling your limbs, it’s there.”
I obeyed. There it was — my limbs still full.
“Shake your hands, feel the water come off your fingertips?”
I did as she said and felt the splatter on my cheeks.
“Yes,” I breathed.
“Ok,” the bartender continued. “That last swallow can be scary, but it’s the most delicious. Go ahead and look at the glass.”
I cracked open one eye, raised the glass, and peered through the side. At the bottom was a funny-shaped thing about half the size of my thumb.
“It has… arms?” I asked.
The bartender nodded.
“It’s a Kraken olive. We import them from the mediver-terranean. They look scary, but add the perfect salty tang to finish the clear sweetness of the drink.”
I stared at it, my heart squeezed. I missed my babies. I raised the glass; the Kraken olive slid into my mouth and I chewed.
Salt, vinegar, and an herbal taste exploded over my tongue, rolling together with the last of the sweet blue liquid.
The anxiety eased, and I realized this new feeling was part of me. I loved my bond with my twin girls, even with the gut twists it caused. Power rolled beneath the surface of a lake, the wild strength of a mother guarding and nurturing her children. I needed many arms to multi-task in this new complexity, as well as the ability to flow with changing currents as my girls grew.
I would face scary things in the future, but my power was not one of them. It was my ally.
I opened my eyes to the intent stares of Jacy and the barkeeper. I nodded.
“I AM the Kraken,” I declared.