Orion’s Belt and Who it Fell On

Orion’s Belt and Who it Fell On
3173353338_440d13c421_z
Photo via Flickr by DIYastrophotography.web

Orion snores small earthquakes in his sleep and dreams of stewed venison and quail and wild duck sauce and eel pasties and pork sausage and jelly and custard and rice tart and he doesn’t notice a thing when it slips off his mighty girth and falls through the sky to land very large in front of a girl and a boy with bright red hair eating sandwiches by a brown river and getting sunburned.  They’re both careful not to be as surprised as the other is.

It’s huge.

It’s ginormous.

It’s gigantic.

We’d both fit in there.

Me and you and mum and dad.

And Jasper.

And Molly.

And everyone in my class.

And everyone in my class.

And the whole school.

And Auntie Janet.

She wouldn’t fit in.

Yes she would.

Not with the whole school in there.

We’d put her in before the school though.

No we wouldn’t.

I would.

That’s because she gives you liquorice torpedoes.

She gives you liquorice torpedoes too.

Yes but I don’t like them.

And high in the sky Orion the hunter wakes up and discovers his belt is gone.

Imagine a person so massive they’d need a belt this size.

The buckle looks gold.

Pure gold.

We’ll be rich.

Youch! It’s hot.

Is it?

Youch!

I told you so.

You didn’t say it was that hot.

Well look at my hand.

You should have said it was that hot.

You’ll have to lick it.

Why?

Because you’re meant to.

No you’re not.

It makes it better.

No it doesn’t.

Grandpa told me.

Well he told me it doesn’t.

And Orion, tired of searching amongst the stars for his belt, rests his blunt sword on his despondent belly and watches the news spread across the sky.  The Gemini twins roll their eyes, Hydra shakes her hundred heads and Perseus, Andromeda, and Cassiopeia try to stop Scorpius the stinger from blowing raspberries whilst Pegasus taps a sorry lament into the sky with his hooves.   Orion closes his eyes and retreats into his dream of rice tart and venison with gravy, but just as he’s putting the second slice of pie into his mouth Lepus the hare wakes him to say she’s heard something Below and so he peers through the clear day until the light settles into his eyes and he can see them, wetting their hands in a river with streaks of mud in their red hair and his belt curled on the ground behind them.

Do you think there’s fish in here?

Yes all sorts.

Like salmon?

And trout and tuna.

And mackerel.

And cod and haddock.

And goldfish.

And sharks.

And as he watches he sees the girl run screaming out of the river and chase the boy with a stick until she catches him and they both fall over the belt and he hurts his knee and cries and she tries to make him stop so he won’t tell.  Orion watches and wonders what to do.

Maybe it’s an alien belt.

Maybe.

But it looks normal.

Just big.

A giant’s belt.

Who lives nearby.

And hides.

He probably stole the chickens last winter.

Probably.

And the cheesecake last week.

That was you.

No it wasn’t.

We all know it was you.

Was not.

Giants don’t eat cheesecake.

This one does.

And he scratches his beard with his hand and watches all the stars waiting to see what he’ll do and Lepus the hare whose ears are as tall as a tree looks at him and flicks her teeth and cleans her tail so at last Orion nods and straightens his sandals and flattens his hair and steps out of the sky towards them.

Oh well.

That’s that then.

A giant.

I told you so.

I said he was a giant.

I said it first though.

He took the cheese.

All of it?

All of it.

That was my birthday cheese.

I suppose he didn’t know that.

He could have asked though.

Yes, he could have asked.

Still, he left us the ham.

And the biscuits.

Yes he left us the biscuits.

And they munched them slowly, feeling their faces tighten with sunburn and the river water dry from their feet.

Emily Ilett

About Emily Ilett

Emily Ilett lives and works in Glasgow. She studied Environmental Art & Sculpture at The Glasgow School of Art and is currently on the MLitt Creative Writing course at Glasgow University. Her work has been published in a number of magazines in print and online, including Popshot Magazine, 2HB, and The Burning Sand.

Emily Ilett lives and works in Glasgow. She studied Environmental Art & Sculpture at The Glasgow School of Art and is currently on the MLitt Creative Writing course at Glasgow University. Her work has been published in a number of magazines in print and online, including Popshot Magazine, 2HB, and The Burning Sand.

Leave a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *