It is time for my weekly blog post. Yet I cannot figure out something to write. Nothing insightful is clicking with me. And when I cannot be insightful, that means I need to be creative. Here, have an idea that I have no time to complete into a book.
His name is Gary. He’s been living in this shack ever since he built it himself, three months ago. Here in the snowy mountains, he has forged a home, he and his scruffy, one-eyed dog, Jake. There is nearby water under a thin sheet of ice, elk to kill, and the nuts that woodland creatures have stored away for the winder make good eating when he finds them. Life and this seemingly endless winter go on.
Yet, there she is, as she is every day. At first, he thought she was a hallucination, as he dragged logs to his shack for the fire. She disappeared soon, and Gary believed himself to be proven right. The next day, just before sunset, she appeared again. And again.
Even now, she appears, and he makes his daily walk over to her. He’s tried to talk with her before, but to no avail. She floats at his chest level, feet never touching the ground, supported by two nearly-translucent wings that barely flutter. Her eyes watch him, two pools of beauty, surrounded by a smooth, glowing face that has no lack of perfection. A faint smile tugs at the corner of her lips. Occasionally her mouth moves, but no sound comes out. There she floats, in her long, flowing dress. He has come to see her every day for a month. He only watches. Nothing changes. She disappears after a short while, and he returns to his hut.
The next day. After an unsuccessful hunt, he returns. A woman appears, in the same place. This woman is not that woman. Dropping his weapons, he rushes over to the floating figure.
“Oy! What ‘ave you done with ‘er?” he shouts, unsure why he is so upset. He never did talk with her. He never had the chance.
The new woman, a younger sort adorned with braided hair, moves her lips in response. No sound comes forth. Jake, Gary’s dog, whines from over near the hut, hair standing on end. Ignoring the dog, Gary marches forward.
“Now you listen ‘ere!” he growls, grabbing the floating woman by her ankle. Immediately, the world lights up. Energies swirl around him as the woman drops into his arm. The trees shoot out green sparks, which whistle into the evening sky. Howls and screams echo throughout the forest. Gary stumbles back, letting go of the woman, and his dog rushes up beside him, barking.
“Are you okay?” it asks, growling at the woman. Before Gary processes the idea that his dog is speaking to him, the woman reaches down for his hand.
“Gary, we don’t have much time,” she says. “I am grateful that you linked with me, but as I have just been reborn, I am in grave danger. Without your physical protection, I may die, and this forest along with me!”
“My master is more important than your forest,” Jake growls.
“‘oo are you?” Gary grunts, heart pounding against his chest.
“I am the fairy of this forest,” she says.
See you around,
2 thoughts on “When All Else Fails, Simply Write”
Nice! Hopefully you get around to this idea some day. I’d sure like to read more.
It’s probably the least of the ideas I’ve got floating around me right now, but your comment is encouraging! Maybe I can whip it up into a short story sometime soon.