Written for Write On Edge. A story, about an unusual cure for infertility, begins after the image.
Genre: Urban Fantasy
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.”
“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 tried just a sip…and his whole world view changed.
Twenty minutes later, he handed Rebecca Pratt a bottle of Happy Honey Meade.
“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.”
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/