Grandchildren of the Sun: Magic Realism

The piquant smokiness of chipotle peppers roasted to perfection burst between her lips. She tilted her head back, staring defiance at the burning sun, her black hair falling across her back, and she smiled a chipotle smile. The peppers gave her the strength to resist the heat. So many others simply crawled back into their homes in the heat of the afternoon, but she had found the secret of it. The sun honored the small flame of its grandchildren the chiles, and so if she ate a sufficient quantity, it had no power over her. During the heat of the afternoon was the best time to grind spices, to mix brews, and to weave wreaths of onions and chiles together to last through the long, cold winter, when the sun pulled away from its children and only the small flame of the chiles remained.


Inspiration: "piquant" from the thesaurus.
Story Potential: Low. Nothing new here, nothing that reaches out and grabs me.
Finished Length: Short story, perhaps? Somebody else approaches during the heat of the afternoon?
Notes: Mmm, tasty Mexican-influenced magic realism. If I really worked at this, it could be good, but it's not a style that comes naturally. Plus I'd have to really bone up on the cultural stuff. For (good) writers, the research is never done.... Ok, fine, I confess, I'm a research junkie. I s'pose this could also be altered to have a Native American influence instead. Some of the same feel to it. Great, now I'm starting to think about this stranger that wanders into town. Also, what's going on with my spellchecker? It has a problem with chipotle and chile, and my unabridged dictionary is currently hiding from me.