Friday, June 5, 2009

Prompt: People live like birds in the woods: When the time comes, each must take flight. (6/05/09)

I wrote one earlier, and posted it, but it was horrible, and I really didn't like it. But writing that seemed to help me get back into the mode of seeing a prompt, and listening to the story behind it. I really liked this one, though the ending sentence isn't as impactful as I like 'em to be. ;) Anyway, this one was unique as when I was nearing the end of my time, it was like the characters were real, this really had happened, and they wanted their story told. I knew how it was going to end, and really wanted to get their story out, barely finishing in time.

(June 5, 2009)
Prompt: People live like birds in the woods: When the time comes, each must take flight. ~ Chinese proverb
Time: 15 min.
Words: 681

I wander in the moonlight alone. It is peaceful now, not that peace was not seen here during the day, for it was. Now, though, there was a different type of peace. A peace with nature, a peace with yourself. Slowly I wonder down the dirt path that I’ve traveled every night for years. This night was no different, and I paused to watch a small, night-bird, as I referred to them, flitter around, its black body only seen with the contrast of the bright moon.

Isn’t how it normally goes? I thought philosophically. If there was no bright, white moon, then you would not be able to see the dark body. If there was no light, there would be no darkness. Without evil, there would be no good.

My musing were interrupted, as I saw the door was open, yellow light spilling out into the night, coming from the house that was my destination. This was not normal, this was not right.

Something was wrong. Quickly, I ran to the house, pausing in the open doorway. On the wooden table three candles were burning, one on each end, and then one in the middle.

“Oh no,” I whispered to myself, stumbling in further. An elder farie, elf, spirit-we’ve been called so many names that I had lost count, and often confused myself when trying to think of the appropriate name. Personally, I liked ‘elf’ the best, the mere name gave illusion of solemn, beautiful creatures living deep within majestic woods, living in perfect harmony with nature-

My mind wrenched itself from its wondering, and I looked at the bed with the elder…elf leaning over it. On the small bed was my mentor, the man who I trekked night after night to see. He tutored me in philosophy, religion, every deep and thought- provoking thing that he could think of. He always told me that since I dealt with death—being a warrior (in training) by trade, I had to balance that out with it’s counterpart, thought, and learning. I had always laughed when he said that, but considered myself honored to be taught by him.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, my eyes scanning him.

“Well-“ the elder man hesitated. I didn’t know his name, he was doubtlessly one of the doctors in our city, town, village, I never knew exactly what to call it. City—the mere word went against the grain of nature. Village—too small of a word for my home. Town? Too ambiguous.

Wait, back to the topic at hand, I told myself, shaking my head.

“Your friend here is quite old, and he’s known for some time that, well, his end was drawing near.”

“Are you saying he’s dying?” I whispered, slowly drawing close to my mentor’s bed, kneeling down beside it.

“Yes. You’ve known it too—don’t act surprised.” My mentor spoke, his voice weak, not anything like the strong, full of life man (elf, fairy, spirit) I had known for nearly all my life.

“No, you can’t—”

“Relax,” he said, laying his wizard old hand on top of mine. “What have I taught you for the past few months?”

“That everything has it’s beginning…”


“That everything has its end…” I whispered, finally seeing the logic behind his teaching. “But, your end can’t be now, I haven’t learned everything-“

“You’ve learned everything I can teach you. Now, you must go out on your own. See the world, learn something besides how to kill.”

I bowed my head, tears starting to form. He always had hated that I had picked up the sword, rather than the pen.


“But nothing, it’s my time to leave, and you know that. You also know that I want to die in peace,” his dark eyes gazed at me tenderly. “You’ve got to let me go.”

“I can’t-” I stopped, knowing that that wasn’t true.

“I can. I love you…goodbye,” I whispered, tears splashing down my cheeks.

With one final, small smile, my mentor closed his eyes, and died in peace.

God rest his soul, he died in peace.

1 comment:

æryn[¿déesse?] said...

I really like where you took this prompt; although a short piece, you were still able to convey a strong attachment/connection to/with the character and her mentor.