This week on Uncovering Oklahoma, I collaborated with Apollo Woods of OKC Black Eats for a mini-series of stories for Black Restaurants Weeks. Since each video averaged 15-minutes, I decided to release the stories throughout a three day period.
We first visited OklaSoul, a restaurant that puts the soul in food; Clean Juice, a juice bar with USDA Certified Organic cold-pressed juice cleanses, smoothies, acai bowls, and more; and ended with Carican Flavors for Caribbean American food in Oklahoma City’s east side.
I loved that we got to showcase a variety of foods. Since Apollo had been doing lots of interviews for the Black Restaurants Weeks event, he wanted to do something different. We did the interviews in the kitchen and even did some cooking at OklaSoul. I especially liked how Sharon of Carican Flavors gave a tour of what she was cooking. The experience has given me some ideas for doing restaurant interviews differently.
I joked on social media that I felt like I made a back-door pilot for Apollo’s own Food Network show. I’m going to edit all three stories together to fit a 30-minute timeslot, hand it over to Apollo, and see what happens. 😎
Alexia should’ve been dead as one cannot survive while being chained to a sculpture of the deity the farmers wanted to please.
Alexia should have been dead. It is basic science that a seventeen-year-old girl cannot survive being tossed into the ocean while chained to a “stupid boulder.”
Okay, so it’s not a stupid boulder, Alexia reasoned as she tried to wiggle free from the marble sculpture of Poseidon’s head.
Alexia’s real anger was at the oracle, who said the sacrifice was required to please the gods if the farmers wanted a successful harvest. Alexia had insisted the framers had used too many chemicals and polluted the soil. The city depended on the farms, and she volunteered to assist in their production. She had developed a new farming method where plants could grow vertically, saving space, and did not require soil.
Now Alexia was sinking to the bottom of the ocean for her blasphemy. In hindsight, she could see the signs of their superstitious nature. Alexia wished she paid better attention to her religious studies. The failure of not metaphorically building a bridge of understanding weighted her down, along with the rock. She did know the head she was attached to was the god of the seas, but the farmers worshipped him as a god of agriculture. It made no sense to her.
The only other question bigger on her mind was how she was breathing underwater. She was mesmerized at first; however, as she sank, her enthrallment was replaced by rage.
“That’s a nice sculpture there.”
Alexia turned to the voice, which put her off-balance as the sound was in her head, but she could associate a location with it. Swimming beside her was a merman twice her size with pristine muscles, almost god-like–if she had believed in the gods. His fluorescent blue tail swished back and forth to keep pace with Alexia’s descent.
“Who are you?” Alexia asked in her head.
“Can’t you tell from your sculpture? You know what, it’s not an accurate depiction of me.”
“Poseidon?”
“That’s one name for me. Yes, let’s use that name.”
“Poseidon, huh?” Alexia responded with a hint of disbelief. “Think you can free me?”
“Under one condition.”
“Name it.”
“You destroy those that did this to you.”
Alexia smiled. “It would be my pleasure.”
With a snap of his wrist, a golden trident burst to life in his hand. He slashed the chains that bound Alexia. The statue drifted downward while Alexia remained stationary.
“Take this,” Poseidon kindly offered as he handed her his weapon.
The moment Alexia took hold of the trident, its glow engulfed her body and shot her upward, into the sky. She landed back on the cliff on the flying island, where the farmers sacrificed her.
Everyone was in the middle of their celebrations when Alexia made her splashy entrance. The music stopped, and all eyes–including the oracle–where on Alexia. Alexia pointed the trident at the party, and from the ocean, a fist of waves slammed into the crowd.
Off in the distance on a hill, Poseidon stood on his legs, watching the seaweeds tangle themselves around the people and drag them to their watery grave. A man with similar stature and physique, but with an impeccable white suit, walked up beside him.
“I wouldn’t have expected such retribution from you, bother.”
“The Atlanteans’ arrogance grows. Either they are too devoted to their sciences, or they worship us incorrectly, thus causing us to change. Are you not worried, Zeus?”
“I am concerned, but I am also fascinated. The interplanetary travel they’re developing will take us to new worlds.”
“If their belief in us holds.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll remind them.”
This week’s short story was inspired by the following writing prompt: “The local humans are having trouble getting their crops to grow so they decide to sacrifice a young girl to their god, by tying her to a heavy rock and throwing it into the sea. She is found by you, a powerful ocean deity…who is displeased by their cruelty.”
Thank you to Janine De Guzman at Design Pickle for creating such beautiful cover art for the story.
Focusing on casual comfort wear to take you from the day to the evenings, Boutique 206 is a women’s clothing and accessory shop in Guthrie. Owner Laura Long talks about what shoppers can expect to find at her downtown boutique.
Visit Boutique 206 for yourself at 206 East Oklahoma Avenue in Guthrie.
This is the second of my three stories I filmed about Guthrie places. My Guthrie mini-series is being released on Tuesdays in February, but my supporters on Patreon will get early access to the episodes as thanks for helping to make Uncovering Oklahoma possible! Huge thanks to my superstar supporters: Lynn and Steve Keller-Kenton Family and Revolve Productions.
A programmer’s Saturday morning ritual is interrupted by a loud knocking from a soldier in Legionnaire armor with the ancient city of Rome behind him.
Despite being “a grown-ass adult,” Lucas had a Saturday morning ritual of enjoying a bowl of sugary cereal while watching cartoons on a streaming service in his PJs. He lived alone in his one-bedroom Oklahoma City apartment, which freed him from judgmental remarks from roommates – though he was prepared to defend himself. The routine was his special way to unwind after a week of coding at Deep Fork Technology.
Lucas nearly choked on the first bite of his cereal from the sudden, thunderous knock on the front door.
He grumbled under his breath, “Who could this be?” as he paused the show on his TV to answer the call.
Upon opening the door, a man in full Legionnaire armor stood before Lucas with the ancient city of Rome behind the soldier. Lucas stuck his head out the entrance to study the scene. In his mind, this had to be an elaborate prank. Still, he could feel the sunshine and smell the summer breeze, contrasting the snowy weather he knew was happening in Oklahoma City. The outside building of his apartment matched the clay exterior of a Roman house.
“Are you Lucas?” the Legionnaire interrupted.
Lucas turned his attention to the soldier, now noticing the bloody rag around his leg. “Yes, I’m Lucas.”
The soldier let himself inside. “I was told this would be a safe place.”
Lucas closed the door. “Who are you?”
“I am Barbados. You have a strange home here.”
“How are you able to communicate with me?”
“What do you mean? We are speaking Latin.”
“No, we’re speaking English.”
“English? What’s this English?”
“Never mind. Who sent you here?”
Barbados fell into the worn-out, brown thrift-store bought couch. “This man in this strange, pinkish outfit I have never seen. New fashion, I suppose. Pointed me to your door and said you were a healer.”
“I tried to be a doctor, but I switched majors to programming,” Lucas explained.
“I did not understand a word you just said.”
Lucas thought for a moment to best word the situation. “I’m not a healer.”
Barbados nodded in understanding. “I see.”
Although Lucas didn’t have much medical training, he did recognize a dying person and rushed to his side. He kneed by him, stuck in a state of what to do, as Barbados took his last breath. Lucas checked his pulse. There was none.
“Fuck.”
Before he had much time to think about what to do next, there was a knock at the door. Lucas opened the door to a tall, slender man in a pink suit with bold, black outlines and a woman in a red dress from the Roman era. Something about their appearance–perhaps their black hair–made Lucas think they were siblings. The scene behind them was of a rainy night in a futuristic neon city.
The two individuals let themselves inside and headed straight to Barbados.
“Don’t mind us,” the man in the pink suit said. “We’re here to collect Barbados.”
The woman lifted Barbados from the legs while the man grabbed him from the other end.
“Have a nice day,” the woman said as she walked back past Lucas.
The strangers closed the door behind themselves. Lucas waited a few seconds, trying to process what happened, and opened the front door. Outside was his snow-covered apartment building. The cold wind whipped his face, telling him this was real. Lucas closed the door and returned to his cereal as that’s all he could think to do.
In the raining neon city, the man and the woman dropped Barbados on the alleyway pavement. The man opened Barbados’ eyes and pulled out a contact lens. He handed the lens to the woman.
“I’ll get the footage processed right away,” the woman said. “How are you feeling about this episode so far, Loki?”
Loki pulled out a black pen from inside his suit jacket. He shook the device, and the writing utensil transformed into a staff as tall as himself. He poked at Barbados with the bottom end of the staff.
“I’m not sure yet, Raven. I think Barbados died too soon to have any comical moments with Lucas. We’ll try again, but with different people.”
This week’s prompted short story was inspired by the following idea: “You awake one Saturday morning to frantic banging on your front door. Upon opening the door you see in front of you a man in full Legionnaire armor and behind him the ancient city of Rome.”
For my second Tulsa story this year, I visited with chefs Sarah & Jean-Baptiste Saint Amon. They’re a married couple from the U.S. and France that has brought the vision of French baking to Tulsa. With scratch-made baked goods, Saint Amon Baking Co has a motto that everyone should be able to afford good, quality food. With options ranging from things people may have never heard about to treats for children to high-end desserts to enjoy.
Visit them for yourself at 6333 East 120th Ct F in Tulsa or online at SaintAmonBakingCo.com
