Thirty days. A shadow of a novel. And I’m back. NanoWriMo reminded me of what you could achieve in a short time. After procrastinating too long with my writing, I’m going to continue the daily habit, continue streaming, and hopefully put out more work.
My first entry into the Worth 1000 Words series since my break was an inspiring start. I hope you enjoy it.
Artwork by Eugene Maslovski
https://www.artstation.com/artwork/bKbayo
Eugene’s Artstation profile
https://www.artstation.com/maslovski
DISCLAIMER: This work has not been edited beyond what is done in the video. The goal is to capture a story in a short amount of time, and keep it as raw as possible. If I decide to publish later, all of these will go through formal editing.
The Story
Morning’s dreams bring bitter things,
Chase the caw to catch them all,
Light ye lantern else all be lost,
Run to sunset or pay the cost.
It was time, the giggled words told me. Little Gretchen had a fluted voice, a most pleasant melody to wake to.
I leaped up with clawed fingers. “‘Lest rogues of night steal your sight. They pluck your eyes and feast on thighs!’“
Gretchen squeaked, pale as the moon. Twilit tears bubbled from deep blue eyes.
“Oh, no, no, no,” I said, taking her into my arms. “I’m playing with you, little sister.”
Gretchen wriggled from my arms and dashed out the door. The sunset painted my room all the colors you could imagine. Warms and cools, and in betweens.
A raven cawed. It was time.
I gathered my shoes and picked my way across the stony yard, kicking them off when I reached the soft grass. Others gathered, primping themselves in the violet haze. Little ones I saw about, tugging on dresses, but Gretchen I could not find.
“Gretch!” I called. Everyone looked at me but her.
I decided to move on. I couldn’t be late for Summer of Night.
Wreaths and bonnets were donned, braids as gold as the sun-kissed grass fluttering behind the women who charged ahead. I took my time. I didn’t need to be first to greet the men, who were surely ready with some trick, some silly game to frighten us all. Great half skeletons they had last year, finely made and quite realistic. They had been cleverly affixed to a mechanism that would make them leap into the air when we approached. Scared us to the grave, nearly. Little Gretchen wouldn’t sleep alone for weeks. Even ringed their heads with the Sunset Crown. Blasmphemers, mother had called them, all mothers, theirs and not alike.
Anyhow, I learned my lesson. To the back with me. Fairy fire glowed, trapped in lantern glass.
“Oh, no,” I said. I had forgotten the lantern.
“‘Light ye lantern else all be lost’,” an impish voice growled behind me.
Jump, I did, nearly wet myself. I turned to find Gretchen hunched in a devlish pose, a lit lantern gripped in her chubby hands.
“You little Sister of Night,” I said. “But you are right. I did forget. Only because I was looking for you.”
Gretchen stuck her tongue out at me, to which I responded with a firm tickle under her chin.
Her giggles hinted to me everything was okay again. Her smile confirmed it was.
Hand in hand we went, kicking up soil and insect alike, making up other rhymes that brought eye roles and smirks from the other girls. They never appreciated our creativity.
The rise of the field was plain in view, and I wondered what secrets the men waited with. I’d let the first wave pass. Never again would I be the first to fall prey.
The first line of girls passed. Nothing. They looked around in confusion, as did I, though I wasn’t near. Then we heard another song. An unpleasant one. It spoke in sharpened blades and spears. Our ears we had to cover. Some dropped their lanterns before dropping to their knees. From the cacophonous song or the black wave of birds rushing above, I wasn’t sure. I lowered myself into the grass just in case.
Then the birds met a wall as dark as them. Men, not our men, on horeseback, bloodied swords and spears alike, smoke rising from what they had done.
By the Mother of Morn, they waited for us. Torches fell to the ground to consume the harvest.
They galloped toward us, a single entity, hacking down the first line of girls before they could stand. Heads tumbled through the air, flickering the fire of the sun.
Our girls brought screams of their own, sobbing, pleading. Mercy none of us got. Bodies were cleaved. The soil itself bled.
I took Gretchen into my arms and ran. To where should I go? The field was as wide and clear as the sea, and it felt like I waded through its depths. I could not escape.
The trees were my only hope. Maybe I could get lost among them until night fell. And then what?
The bird houses nailed to the trucks glimmered, showing us the way. We turned and ducked, slid and stumbled. For a moment I was convinced we were going to make it. I found a burrow to squirm into. Gretchen would have none of it.
“Let me go!” she shouted and wriggled from my arms, right into a horsemen’s pike.
Then my own screams escaped, echoing hers. No words I could find. Sounds, yes. So many sounds that meant nothing and everything.
The man dismounted with Gretchen still speared, and he walked to me. Limp arms swung. Her head bobbed. Tiny feet danced by their bare toes.
He brought her to me, at least, and I held her. Pull her from the spear I could not, but at least I could never let her go. And as my own twilight came, one which I was thankful to not feel, I sang her a song.
Morning’s dreams brings bitter things,
Chase the caw to catch them all,
Light ye lantern else all be lost,
Run to sunset or pay the cost.
It is time. Gretchen giggles and runs out the door. I follow, forgetting my lantern as always. It’s all right. I know that I do not need it.
The great skeletons fly now, no longer absent of life, no longer the games of dead men we will never see again.
Bone I am first, brittle and cold, but as I walk I become beautiful again. Just as Gretchen. It pains me to see her this way, though I have known since the first time we woke that she will be whole again, if but for a moment.
I take her hand. I take my time. I know what the sunset brings.