A Cure From Ages Past - A Short Story
Fellow Steemians,
Over this past weekend, I had an ah-hah moment while I was helping my boyfriend and his mum move. At the risk of sounding horribly cliché, it was like a light bulb came on in my head and I was like “hello M’gann!” …err, I’m Andre, right, not Miss Martian… anyways! Back to my realization.
…the words are not flowing right now, and you know what? I’m not going to force them, so I’ll talk or rather, write about my ah-hah moment in a later post. This post was going to be called “The Switch: A Paradigm Shift – A Quest for Magick #7”. Now though, I thought I’d share a short story that I wrote years ago, hence the mismatching title.
The Cure
It’s a cold and bitter afternoon, the harsh winds blow through the hair of its pursuers and whips at their faces, making them stagger. The falling snow attempts to freeze the research team at Leunderloft turning them into ice statues. The researchers are very cold and frustrated. “Sir, we’ve been up since 5 AM and we are getting nowhere. The storm is worsening, maybe we should head back to camp and come back again tomorrow,” one of the researchers said.
“No, Trudy will find something,” replies the gruff voice of the leader.
A wispy-haired girl in her twenties calls out, “Sir, I think I got something in the cave.” Barb Trudy takes off her gloves and puts on medical ones. She bends down to examine the frozen corpse in front of her. The rest of the team are in the cave now. They’re all looking at the body. The woman’s face looks peaceful and deep in slumber. The mark on her forehead makes it unmistakable the high priestess of the lost city of Golann.
Legend has it that the people of Golann had the ability to self-heal and previous research teams had found evidence to prove that they really possessed the ability to heal. If this spectacular ability was somehow encrypted in the peoples’ DNA then it could be used to make cures for the terminally ill. Barb Trudy and a research team were sent out to find a sample.
The lead researcher pats Trudy on the shoulder. He instructs her to take a sample from the foot. The high priestess’ foot is pale and misshapen. The metatarsals are slightly protruding from the instep. The yellow sheet of skin like parchment, now tightly wrapped around the skeletal foot, is taut and elastic. The toenails show remnants of polish. The once-pedicured foot is now leathery. The toes are knotted and twisted like old branches.
They collect the sample, putting it in an airtight container while making sure that is exposed to the air. If anything was, they knew it could not stay preserved and all would be lost. They make their way back to their camp.
The above is a short which I wrote for an assignment, back in high school. I was reminded of this because neuroplasticity is kind of similar to the ability to self-heal.
Let me know what you guys think of it, and if you want me to post more of my writings.
‘Til next time!
@originalworks