Prompt from myself: Imagine being able to create gods from things that you dedicate a bit of your day to. Pictures, technology, rocks, flowers, trees, anything you could imagine. While The Church does not recommend imbuing temporary objects, it is possible.
“Drink up.”
Water glistened as it ran down the birdbath and into the ground beneath. The visage of two frogs embracing the basin with their limbs glistened with moisture, their textured surface now a vibrant green as opposed to the washed out stone they were just seconds ago. Marin couldn’t help but smile. She imagined them as real frogs: Dry and rough from the sun, now moist and happy after their lovely, cool bath. The rest of the balcony rustled in the wind, bringing delicious aromas to her nostrils. She had somehow managed to grow… no, grow was not the correct term; her roses had thrived in the pots she managed to afford. Their success almost made it seem as if small pots and full-blast 12 hour sun was their natural habitat. Their blooms were as large as dinner plates, leaves a vibrant, strong green, and stems at least a quarter inch round and seven feet tall. They practically grew over her upstairs neighbor’s balcony. Todd had often told her that his wife was pleased at the prospect of having roses without having spent the money or effort for them. So pleased, in fact, that they gladly paid Marin what they called the “rose tax”: A set of homemade rose infused soap, shampoo, bath bombs, and chocolates every month. Marin tried to protest, but Todd insisted at the behest of his wife. She finally gave up and accepted the free, and delicious, chocolates.
She turned the water off and picked up a large glass bottle. It used to hold pineapple juice, a personal favorite of hers, but after months of being used as a water vessel, it smelled more of algae than tropical fruit. A slight “plunk” echoed from the mouth of the bottle as Marin lowered it into the fountain, bottom side down, tilting it until water just barely started flowing in. A small “splurt” signified the bottle was full, and she leaned over to her small succulent tray. Testing the soil of each small pot for moisture, she watered those that needed it. Her most recent propagates were from a small café on the other side of the city. Most of them would be sold at her plant stand on the bottom floor of her apartment complex, but the ones she liked, she kept.
Once the bottle had emptied, she repeated the process, now with her vegetable planter, then her flower planter, her loofa vine, gave the stone frogs one last drink, and returned it to the spot underneath her garden stool.
Marin closed her eyes against the slight breeze and happily inhaled the fragrance. She felt quite satisfied with herself today. Yesterday, Friday, she had been able to sell her plants for a higher price than normal. In addition, she had sold some experimental arrangements made from her roses, thrifted dishes, rocks, and beach sand. She’d seen arrangement videos on her phone and finally got around to making her own. She found she had quite the talent for it, and was able to not only sell some for a nice profit, but even get a custom order for a greater one. There was, however, a slight hiccup. Though it was possible she could grow the required flowers herself in the allotted timeframe, she did not want to add any new specimens to what she already had. Her balcony was crowded enough as it was. She would have to spend the money she made today in order to fulfill the request. And given the specifications of the order, it would likely take a large chunk out of her “nice profit”.
Marin sighed. “I guess that massage will have to wait until next week…”
Smacking her hands against her thighs, she stood and turned towards her balcony door. “I need some frog water…”
The air conditioned atmosphere swept past her as she opened the sliding door and entered. A different smell accompanied the cool air: Clean and moist, but comfortable. Her home smell. Every place she had ever been smelled unique, Marin discovered, and her own home smelled the best. She hypothesized something about microbiomes and sweat glands, but that wasn’t a terribly romantic nor charming conversation starter. Plucking a mug from a small table off to the side, she swiftly scooped up some water from the birdbath and closed the door. The water was clear, odorless, and slightly blue in hue. She swallowed dryly as she inspected it. It had taken her quite a while to accept that straining or boiling was not necessary for this specific water source. The notion of drinking from a birdbath still left her mouth twinging up until she took a drink. The taste completely washed any doubt she had about it’s potability down her throat where it dissolved in her stomach.
Sinking into her couch, she nursed the delicious, crisp water, and thought about the birdbath. It wasn’t a unique sculpture, sure it wasn’t a common design, but she had seen a couple others like it at the stand where she purchased it. The artist made practical garden containers, a tortoise plant pot, for example, and small garden decorations, all made of concrete and whole, smooth stones. She greatly enjoyed the look the frogs had, but not so much the effort it took to get them up two flights of steps to her apartment. She had been in her gym-rat phase at the time, and thought it was a great opportunity to test her endurance. It did not take long for her to regret her decision. She eventually plunked it in the middle of her balcony, and it hadn’t moved since.
It was not her intention to make it a God. She just liked the idea of pouring water over the frogs and watching their color come alive. It wasn’t until her roses started growing exponentially that she started to notice other oddities about the water it held. Her plant stand would not have existed if she hadn’t found that propagates turned into fully developed plants within days, and she wouldn’t have the relationship with Todd and Linda upstairs had she not tended to her whimsical impulse. She certainly wouldn’t be eating as well as she did if any and all fruits and vegetables she fed with the bath-water hadn’t exploded with produce.
“Eww… bath water?” Marin crinkled her nose. “That’s what we’re going to call it?” An image of other crinkled noses at the mention of her “magic bath water” suddenly made the idea not so bad. “Eh, could be worse.”
As for how she discovered it’s mystical properties extended to humans, she had sent the water in for testing at The Church. It apparently reacted differently to plants than to humans. They even said it was perfectly safe, if not exceptionally healthy, to consume. Ever since the results, she had been donating a basin’s worth of water to the Church for them to use. She also made a habit of passing out bottles full to local hospitals and care-centers. Marin always wanted to do charity work, but never found she had the time or funds to donate. The birdbath had certainly given her quite the wealth of opportunities. It was surprising how much a simple basin of superpowered water could do.
“Maybe I’ll finally be able to open my own nursery…” Marin hummed.
She glanced out the glass door to her richly green balcony. The birdbath was growing moss. Maybe she’d get that in for testing too. Who knows? It could be the cure to cancer. Well, an additional cure at the very least.
Lily Leaflets 