This is the eighty-sixth installment of West Wind, your weekly drop of thoughts, ideas, and info for this Season. As Summer draws to a close, I’ll be showcasing one of my published stories each day, because there are getting to be quite a few! This is the seventh installment, check out yesterday’s if you missed it.
Today is devoted to that fun little story I like to call saint fanfiction: The Bellowing of the Ox! Inspired by the life of St. Thomas Aquinas, but with a great deal of artistic license taken, it was the first short story I ever published, and what helped me realize that there were a lot more tales I could tell outside of the major works, or books, that I had planned out already.
The basic plot involves… well, there isn’t much of a plot, really. It’s a tribute and reflection to the life of my favorite saint, and while I’ve talked about it a lot in general, this time I wanted to unpack a few of its hidden corners.
Early morning, noon, midnight, what did it matter? It reminded him of when he had been hounded by the shadows for a fortnight, those lurking, dreadful creatures that appeared whenever the mood in the monastery became grim. When morale among the brothers waned. Did they beget the ill humors, though, or did the ill humor beget them? He would have to write on that later. If he had any time remaining…
Fresh off of yesterday’s story, if those creatures sound like Dreadlings to you, you’d be right! This story is technically part of the Torchmouth Saga as well, though it clearly isn’t in the modern day. Perception of the Dread is only granted to those with specific spiritual gifts, and if anyone would have them, it would be him.
Maybe he was in the streets of Napoli, preaching as the Lenten snow still covered the ground. Perhaps he was back among that great multitude, cheering while friars of his order stood in a line, singing and playing stringed instruments like none he had ever seen. Or back among the great peafowl which surrounded that young woman making noise with that machine that produced parchment from the top. Perhaps the angels had returned again, bearing him up with their strong hands, lifting him from the ground and onto his donkey.
The banjo, dobro, and dulcimer definitely weren’t around at the same time as our dear Tommaso, but leave it to him to get a glimpse through the ages at the bluegrass band that would one day take their name from his inspiration. Not only that, but the Southern gothic writer who inspired the name itself! Fun fact, these last two references weren’t actually in the story as it was originally published for the LegendFiction Sacred Stories contest. When the Dawn of LegendFiction anthology was announced, I had edited this story a bit and added in that extra piece, so it made it into the final book. The same thing is true with the reference in Dreadful Evening to Rary and Halcyon, because why not?
Read and/or listen to the story and let me know what you think. Reply or comment here or on the original post. And speaking of griffons and pegasi, I think there’s a special event scheduled for tomorrow…