Rancid Yak Butter

This was a writing prompt from evolution. I took the idea and wrote a scene for 'Keys To Hell' from it. I still have to figure out where to fit it in, after I clean it up. This is a first draft, so it's very, very rough.


“Lucy, did you know that spreading rancid yak butter on your belly will keep you from getting stretch marks?” Evie looked so proud that she was able to help me with one of my pregnancy problems. Rancid yak butter, was she serious?

“Um, Evie, um, I’m not sure about this idea.” I wasn’t sure if she was serious about what she was saying, or if she was joking with me.

“Yes, yes, it will work. My mother did it through each of her pregnancies. She had seven children and four miscarriages. I know it works.” She ran to the refrigerator and returned with a glass jar in her hand. Inside was this strange glutinous substance that shook and jiggled when she placed it in front of me. It was the color of that cholesterol stuff hairdressers use on overly damaged hair.

I just sat there and looked at the jar for a moment before I swung my eyes back up to look at her. “Where did you get this?” I had to ask her.

“Off the internet. Where else was I going to get rancid yak butter in this country?” Her voice held an undertone of laughter as she spoke. Was this a joke?

“You’re kidding about this, right? That’s not rancid yak butter is it? You, Thora, Jordan and Devin are playing a joke on me right?” There was no way she was serious about this. I reached out and took the jar in my hands. Just picking it up made the contents shake and shimmy. But when I looked up her eyes were deadly serious.

“Of course I’m serious. Where I grew up we had to have this stuff shipped in by boat and then mule. It started out fresh and became rancid on the journey. It cost so much money that she wouldn’t have used it if it didn’t work.” Evie took the jar from me and opened it. I was fine until the smell hit me. I’d been nauseous through most of my pregnancy and figured the smell of rancid yak butter would send me over the edge for the day. But for some reason it smelled good to me. So good I wanted to eat it.

“So what am I supposed to do with it?” I kind of hoped I’d get to eat the stuff. What was wrong with me?

“You rub it one your belly. Why? What do you think you’d have to do with it?” She sounded and looked befuddled.

“Never mind, just give me the stuff,” I mumbled.