117 Stories

The Story Begins

Bessie, my trusty coat, flapped vigorously in the rising wind as I perched atop the largest hill in the area. From this vantage point, I noticed a distant haze on the horizon behind us—a sure sign of an impending sandstorm billowing our way.

The wind picked up its pace. My wide-brim hat seemed to come alive and was either dancing or trying to strangle me. The hat’s flailing edges began to slap my face, prompting thoughts of naming this tempestuous accessory so I could properly curse it, at the very least.

It had been 249 days since the three children had found me and I had human companions once again. Without them, I may have eventually started to name my own toes.

The twins, Isti and Kusti, were standing next to me, stretching out their thin limbs as far as they could.

“We’re taking a wind bath, Fabricator!” Isti exclaimed, a wide grin illuminating her face.

Throughout the millennia, I had been called many things, but my favorite had always been the “Goddess of Curiosity.” As my prime directive was to spread curiosity among humans, it was a title that resonated with me. “Fabricator,” on the other hand, was not among my preferred monikers, but it appeared to be the colloquial designation in this time and place.