Happy Honey – Write On Edge

Written for Write On Edge. A story, about an unusual cure for infertility, begins after the image.

Genre: Urban Fantasy

Courtesy of Unsplash

Happy Honey

Rebecca Pratt fumed as she stood on her doorstep. “Isaiah and I came to this town for the quiet country life, and now this?” In truth, the middle-aged couple moved to the picturesque and quaint town of Carolan to make a baby. The pair were battling infertility and nothing seemed to work. They had hoped the wholesome, country air might help. Now Rebecca wondered that even if they conceived, was the town safe for children?

“How many?” said Sheriff Hough. He was another escapee from Minneapolis and also new to the ancient Gaelic enclave.

“A hundred maybe. Right there in full view!” she said. “We dreamed of children here. What ARE these people?”

Hough could hardly believe her story, but a complaint was a complaint. “I’ll look into it right now, ma’am.”

The temperature was still in the 60s in early Spring, yet despite this, naked, entwined bodies sprawled all across the hillside of Maddie Johnson’s property. Hough closed the door of his squad car and saw thin people, fat people, pretty people, and ugly people thrust and shout in pleasure before finding a new partner and beginning their gyrations again.

Sitting before the sordid frenzy was Maddie Johnson. Comfortably ensconced in a blanket-covered rocking chair, straw hat complete with daisy upon her head, the old matron hummed to herself as she knitted in full view of the sexual bonanza.

Hough walked up to her and said, “Excuse me, Ms. Johnson.”

“Howdy Sheriff!” she waved, as though nothing unusual were happening.

“Hi. Uh…what’s going on here?”

“Nuthin’. Just making my Happy Honey Meade.”

He pointed to the writhing bodies. “I mean, them.”

“Like I said, making meade.”

“Doesn’t look like it to me.”

She put down her knitting. “Sheriff. This is Carolan. We do things the Old Ways here.”

“Yeah, but…”

“Now to make Happy Honey Meade, you need Happy Honey.” She handed him a honey pot. “Taste this.”

Hough tasted just a dollop…and felt himself transform. Warm sweetness flowed over his tongue and pervaded his body. A sudden calm washed over him. The honey was delightful. “Oh that is good, but now…”

“Now Happy Honey comes from Happy Bees.”

“Yeah, but about the sex thing…”

“You get Happy Bees from Happy Flowers, and the flowers love growing on this hillside.”

“Yeah, but…” He looked at the hillside. “…Oh! ‘Happy flowers.'”

“That’s right,” Maddie grinned. “We do things the Old Ways here.” She poured a shot of Happy Honey Meade and handed it to him.

Hough hesitated.

“Drink it!”

Hough tried just a sip…and his whole world view changed.

Twenty minutes later, he handed Rebecca Pratt a bottle of Happy Honey Meade.

“What’s this?”

“Well, it starts with Happy Honey, and…well, things just make sense when you try it.”

Nine months later, Rebecca held her newborn son in her arms, and smiled at her friend. “Thank you for the Meade, Maddie. It worked like magic.”

“It’s the Old Ways, sweetie,” said Maddie, patting her shoulder. “It’s made with Happy Honey.”
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Write On Edge hosts a weekly writing challenge. Look here for more stories answering this week’s photo and sentence writing prompt: http://writeonedge.com/2014/05/writing-prompt-2014-week-22/

About EagleAye

I like looking at the serious subjects in the news and seeking the lighter side of the issue. I love satire and spoofs. I see the ridiculous side of things all the time, and my goal is to share that light-hearted view.
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15 Responses to Happy Honey – Write On Edge

  1. There was a town in New Zealand where this sort of thing allegedly happened, for real,. in the early twentieth century – Havelock North, where at one point up to a third of the people who lived there were drawn into a hermetic cult run by a medical doctor named Felkin. Needless to say, as far as I could find out, the whole thing was a cover for the salacious activities of the leaders. I covered it in a book I wrote a while back and more recently it’s been included in a museum exhibition – the curator contacted me to discuss the background. http://community.scoop.co.nz/2014/05/stories-of-rumour-and-intrigue-from-havelock-north/

    The cult itself had a temple built into a house in the town. Other organisations flourished around them including a ‘Radiant Living’ community that allegedly practised naked dancing on lawns, en masse. Today the town is still a centre for what we might call ‘alternative thought’ – Rudolf Steiner, homeopathic medicine-makers, and so forth – and I was told in all seriousness it was because the hills on which it is built have a mystic power that has attracted this, and isn’t that just, like, wow and so, like, SPIRITUAL and, like, wow, man, MYSTIC, and if I don’t agree then I just don’t KNOW ANYTHING.

    My take is that the whole lot started in 1908-10 with a reading group in the local Anglican church. They drew in a local landowner, started exploring the 1890s-era bohemian mysticism then in vogue – and it rolled from there, much of it on the back of the landowner’s money. He paid to bring Felkin across from the UK and bought the house/temple for him. The people who came to join the cult (at least one of whom, I was told, was ‘highly sexed’, which gives a pretty good idea as to what the cult was actually about) were also interested in a wider range of alternative thinking and philosophies, and it rolled from there. They drew interest from across New Zealand, including authors such as Ngaio Marsh. Social momentum is hard to dislodge once it’s got to the extent achieved in this town. The intriguing part are the number of people involved -virtually the whole elite pastoral community, for example were involved in one or another of the secret societies that flourished, including people who were historically prominent at national level, such as our divisional field commander in the First World War.

    An extraordinary diaspora of alternative thought but one, needless to say, that was wholly human and where the secrecy had less to do with preserving mystic knowledge than it did with hiding the banal and rather base activities around which some of these cults reportedly pivoted.

    One of the kickers? The guy that paid to bring Felkin out was also a mad-keen scientist – he had NZ’s first private hydro-electric station built in the 1890s and electrified his farm using gear he devised and built himself. Later he bought a local newspaper and tried to change society via the media. And, of course, he was deeply involved in mysticism. A dimensional character in every respect.

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    • EagleAye says:

      Haha! Fascinating! I have to admit I’ve been inspired by the notion of entire towns dedicated to alternative thinking. I don’t know how often it has happened, but certainly it has. I mean how hard is it to attract followers with the idea of orgies? However, in the case of this story I was thinking of Druids who came to the US but never gave up on the Old Ways.

      Secret societies are quite interesting in how they’ve sprouted up periodically, and actually, the hippy generation are hardly original in their pursuit of sex and drugs. Such social elements have existed in various places around the world for thousands of years. And when you have sex as a carrot you can always get someone to follow. What’s interesting is how often powerful personages become members. Well, even the rich like to have their fun as long as they get to do it in secret.

      What a fascinating (true) story you have to tell. Thanks so much for sharing it!

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      • Havelock North is the only town in NZ where this has happened to this extent. It definitely pre-dated the hippies, but they clicked into it like a glove from the early 1970s (NZ lagged the US by about 5 years in terms of the movement). A lot of the ones I met, as a kid and teenager, seemed pretty flaky and I guess that’s one reason why these cults seem to become so powerful; it’s not hard for a leader to provide a version of the world to these people in terms that they can fit inside their heads, and it’s easier for them to follow that than to think for themselves. I probably sound a little cynical but it seems to happen, repeatedly, through history – and, as we know, doesn’t always end well.

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  2. Excellent story, my friend. Thanks for sharing it. Maybe I’ll stop hating bees now.

    Nah.

    Like

    • EagleAye says:

      Haha! Well, maybe if they’re Happy Bees they’ll have too much “afterglow” to bother you. 😉 Thanks so much, Bill. I appreciate your comments. 🙂

      Like

  3. Lyn says:

    Like wow man, that’s totally radical! Gives a whole new meaning to the song, ” got the hippy, hippy, shake” 🙂

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    • EagleAye says:

      Yeah, like, dude. It’s so gnarly that you like, tapped into my vibe. You know, flowers are like these powerful things that could save the whole world if we let them, you know? That’s ’cause they make bees happy and that makes Happy Honey. And we all know what THAT means! 😉 Thanks so much for stopping in! 🙂

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  4. Tina says:

    I enjoyed the flow of this story. Very nice–and I love the happy ending!

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  5. Patricia says:

    Had me chucklin’ right on from the start 😉

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  6. Love it! The “old ways”, maybe the better ways? Great story!

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    • EagleAye says:

      Who knows? Certainly, there’s advantages to the old ways of thinking. Sometimes the new approach doesn’t work and the tried and true is better overall. Glad you enjoyed it and thanks much for reading!

      Like

  7. Sara Healy says:

    How do you do it? Each story is so unique and creative. This one was a delight to read. Your dialogue fit the story and the characters very well. I could see them and would love to meet Maddie. Another thing is the way you start with something that seems entirely unrelated to the eventual happy people scene, but in just 500 words manage to come back around to the opening. I’ve done a lot of these prompts and I know this is not easy to do with the word limit, but you are very successful:~) Great story and a fun read.

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    • EagleAye says:

      Oh, thank you so much! I’m glad they’re working for you. I had hoped Maddie would be likeable, like a crazy but loveable maiden aunt. It’s true it’s difficult to write a complete story in 500 words. I had to explain this to a friend who thought fewer words means easier writing. I told him, “No it’s even harder!” It took a while before he believed me.

      Thank you so much for the encouraging and supportive words. It’s such comments like yours that are jet fuel for my creative engine. I appreciate it very much. 🙂

      Like

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