02-15-2019, 02:59 PM
I'll be sitting here with a song that I wrote, saying
love could change the world in a moment
love could change the world in a moment
There’s warmth out there that they want us to go, and so I’m sure I’ll love it. Somewhere deep down I may realize that that is not the greatest of motivations, but it totally works for me!
I mean, sure, it’ll never compare to curling up to Mama, or any of my sisters, or really anything else that is also soft and comfortable. But the humid summer heat is something that calls to me, and when a mythical being called me to go there, what else was I supposed to do but heed it?
And, well, my sister did it before me. And now she has so many stories! She says they were real. I may be a little bit jealous… maybe. But really what is life for if not for creating the very best stories? I want to tell her something too!
Scary stories, big stories, small stories, fun stories, warnings... To be really honest the warnings don’t make sense to such an adventurous young mind as mine. Monsters might well be real but if my shy, spotted sister could beat them with the magical help of the fairies, then surely I can, too!
Never mind that I’m even younger than she was. I’m probably a stubborn little fool, not unlike my father, and I really really really want to go. Now.
So when my mother isn’t looking, I carefully slip away.
Actions having consequences, danger, regret, worriedness and forgiveness aren’t things I really know of at this age. I know the word adventure though, and magic, and I know of fairies being real - and my mind was already set from since perhaps before the call came. The sickness isn’t over yet, and so I’ll be able to help, too! I’m energetic now, so I don’t even mind about the distance to the Mountain.
Once I’ve made it there, a pretty soft-blue creature is talking to us. She’s soooo pretty! I barely allow myself to breathe when she speaks; I’ve never seen anyone blue before but at this very moment it obviously beats white and gold, or white and pink, or white and black (sorry, Mama), or all the weird colours of my Papa. My emerald green orbs(they say I have my Grammama’s eyes, or my dad’s maybe) linger on her, captivated, not noticing any of the others present (although the smell of my Grandpapa is not one I recognize, it might be subconsciously comforting me); for all that the blue fairy is the beautifulest thing I’ve ever seen, her voice is a bit funny, and I’m getting in a bubbly mood. Of course I’ll help! Shells, pretty seashells - Nerine has those, but they are dusted with rocks and salt. We want the pretty ones.
That won’t be too hard! I have an eye for all things pretty, you know.
Excited, still captivated by the beauty of the fair lady requesting my help, I run off the mountain. But where to go next? I’ve never gone this far - actually I’ve never gone away from Mama at all.
Oh! Some other questers, out there in the distance. They’re way ahead of me but they walk in the direction of a glowing mountain (ooooh will you look at how pretty it is!) so that’s a landmark I can follow. I told you I have an eye for pretty things.
The path winds along the river to the coast, and it is long for my wobbly legs, but I’m too excited to notice. So what if I have to stop along the way a few times for my over-excited heart to calm down: I’ll go on. And near where the volcano is, there is a huge sea separating me from the Island. And it is soooo beautiful and blue, I immediately recognize it as the fairy’s waters.
The tropical breezes are enchanting and comforting, calling me over, but the waves themselves are somewhat of a mental obstacle. The water back home is always trying to hurt or eat the rocks of the shore, and the mean waves are colder even than my Papa. I mean, cold to the touch. I have some ice too, you know. Ice and fire, that’d be me, sister says. Little fire, they called me, probably because I’m so hot (no really, I am pretty warm and if I concentrate really very hard, I glow and set things on fire, too. It didn’t get appreciated last time, but I still can). But honestly I love my little snowflakes too, stuck in my fur as if I’ve walked through a bit of a skift. I’m a walking contradiction.
The water before me is a mixture of that, hot, melted snow, a middle way where I am two distinct things. And when I touch it, an uncontrolled giggle leaves my throat; it’s warm! Lovely fairy, your water is warm!
Now, the trick to swimming a long distance is finding the undeep places - sandbanks and rocks. I know this from my sister, who warns me because she knows how adventurous I am, and knows me too well perhaps - I would have swum to the icy land by now if it wasn’t so cold in those waters (and if my sister didn’t watch me so well). She’s a good sister, and she loves me, I know… she might be worried. Mama would be worried. I hope she thinks I’m with my sister, and the other way around.
I nearly want to turn back but I’ve already begun swimming. Granted, I am not so great at it, but I’ve seen others do it back home and so I know what to do. Paddle my feet to get to the first sandplate.
Once there, I rest a while. I see another sand heap, and wonder if I can make it in one go - if I do then I’ll be close enough to the shore that I’ll make that last part in one go, and I will make it in time.
I’m a little hungry by now, to be honest. Hopefully we can do this quickly. I’ve chewed on grass once but it’s not my favourite. Plus, there’s no grass here on the sand in the sea. I wonder if the grass on this island is salty?
Perhaps I should be going now.
I take a ste - no! I can’t! I struggle, but my feathered white feet are stuck. Oh no! There is a sand monster in there! I can feel it move around my leg to grab me, it’s gonna eat me! It’s gonna eat me! ”Aah!” My squeal sounds exactly like what it is, a little boy’s voice. Normally I would hate that, but in the moment I couldn’t care less about it. Tears welling up in my eyes prevent me from seeing all too well, and I struggle and cry until I’m out of breath… and then I give up. I’m down in the sand until my knees now, and the water that I at first thought was nice and warm is slowly rising at this time of day. I’m gonna die. This is the end of me, I know it. I shouldn’t have gone away from Mama. The fairy is a dangerous trickster, like Papa says we can’t always trust the ones with magic just like we can and can’t trust the ones without.
But it doesn’t matter. I’m dead now regardless of who I trust and who I don’t (actually I don’t really agree with my dad, it sounds like an entirely sad life). I will not have a life…
I sink a little more and then I just drop on the sand, watch the waves near me slowly, ever slowly, retreating and then coming back, the little tricksters.
It takes me long, to realize that now that I lean sideways, I can move my legs again. Pull them up, and if I’m slow then I can free them. Gasping, I try not to wrap my mind about this miracle… I shove myself away from the quicksand-island, and get back into the water.
The next part is rather long, but I make it. This time, I do not rest by standing still, oh no. No way I’m doing that again! When I’ve caught my breath again, I move immediately.
By the time I reach the Island Resort, I am out of breath, wide-eyed, hungry and shocked and wet and almost-drowned. But the tears have long since washed away and dried.
I came here for the adventure and I got way more than that.
I came here for the prettiest of shells, and I will find them.
I came here for to beat the sickness, and that’s what I’ll do!
They’re trusting me!
I mean, sure, it’ll never compare to curling up to Mama, or any of my sisters, or really anything else that is also soft and comfortable. But the humid summer heat is something that calls to me, and when a mythical being called me to go there, what else was I supposed to do but heed it?
And, well, my sister did it before me. And now she has so many stories! She says they were real. I may be a little bit jealous… maybe. But really what is life for if not for creating the very best stories? I want to tell her something too!
Scary stories, big stories, small stories, fun stories, warnings... To be really honest the warnings don’t make sense to such an adventurous young mind as mine. Monsters might well be real but if my shy, spotted sister could beat them with the magical help of the fairies, then surely I can, too!
Never mind that I’m even younger than she was. I’m probably a stubborn little fool, not unlike my father, and I really really really want to go. Now.
So when my mother isn’t looking, I carefully slip away.
Actions having consequences, danger, regret, worriedness and forgiveness aren’t things I really know of at this age. I know the word adventure though, and magic, and I know of fairies being real - and my mind was already set from since perhaps before the call came. The sickness isn’t over yet, and so I’ll be able to help, too! I’m energetic now, so I don’t even mind about the distance to the Mountain.
Once I’ve made it there, a pretty soft-blue creature is talking to us. She’s soooo pretty! I barely allow myself to breathe when she speaks; I’ve never seen anyone blue before but at this very moment it obviously beats white and gold, or white and pink, or white and black (sorry, Mama), or all the weird colours of my Papa. My emerald green orbs(they say I have my Grammama’s eyes, or my dad’s maybe) linger on her, captivated, not noticing any of the others present (although the smell of my Grandpapa is not one I recognize, it might be subconsciously comforting me); for all that the blue fairy is the beautifulest thing I’ve ever seen, her voice is a bit funny, and I’m getting in a bubbly mood. Of course I’ll help! Shells, pretty seashells - Nerine has those, but they are dusted with rocks and salt. We want the pretty ones.
That won’t be too hard! I have an eye for all things pretty, you know.
Excited, still captivated by the beauty of the fair lady requesting my help, I run off the mountain. But where to go next? I’ve never gone this far - actually I’ve never gone away from Mama at all.
Oh! Some other questers, out there in the distance. They’re way ahead of me but they walk in the direction of a glowing mountain (ooooh will you look at how pretty it is!) so that’s a landmark I can follow. I told you I have an eye for pretty things.
The path winds along the river to the coast, and it is long for my wobbly legs, but I’m too excited to notice. So what if I have to stop along the way a few times for my over-excited heart to calm down: I’ll go on. And near where the volcano is, there is a huge sea separating me from the Island. And it is soooo beautiful and blue, I immediately recognize it as the fairy’s waters.
The tropical breezes are enchanting and comforting, calling me over, but the waves themselves are somewhat of a mental obstacle. The water back home is always trying to hurt or eat the rocks of the shore, and the mean waves are colder even than my Papa. I mean, cold to the touch. I have some ice too, you know. Ice and fire, that’d be me, sister says. Little fire, they called me, probably because I’m so hot (no really, I am pretty warm and if I concentrate really very hard, I glow and set things on fire, too. It didn’t get appreciated last time, but I still can). But honestly I love my little snowflakes too, stuck in my fur as if I’ve walked through a bit of a skift. I’m a walking contradiction.
The water before me is a mixture of that, hot, melted snow, a middle way where I am two distinct things. And when I touch it, an uncontrolled giggle leaves my throat; it’s warm! Lovely fairy, your water is warm!
Now, the trick to swimming a long distance is finding the undeep places - sandbanks and rocks. I know this from my sister, who warns me because she knows how adventurous I am, and knows me too well perhaps - I would have swum to the icy land by now if it wasn’t so cold in those waters (and if my sister didn’t watch me so well). She’s a good sister, and she loves me, I know… she might be worried. Mama would be worried. I hope she thinks I’m with my sister, and the other way around.
I nearly want to turn back but I’ve already begun swimming. Granted, I am not so great at it, but I’ve seen others do it back home and so I know what to do. Paddle my feet to get to the first sandplate.
Once there, I rest a while. I see another sand heap, and wonder if I can make it in one go - if I do then I’ll be close enough to the shore that I’ll make that last part in one go, and I will make it in time.
I’m a little hungry by now, to be honest. Hopefully we can do this quickly. I’ve chewed on grass once but it’s not my favourite. Plus, there’s no grass here on the sand in the sea. I wonder if the grass on this island is salty?
Perhaps I should be going now.
I take a ste - no! I can’t! I struggle, but my feathered white feet are stuck. Oh no! There is a sand monster in there! I can feel it move around my leg to grab me, it’s gonna eat me! It’s gonna eat me! ”Aah!” My squeal sounds exactly like what it is, a little boy’s voice. Normally I would hate that, but in the moment I couldn’t care less about it. Tears welling up in my eyes prevent me from seeing all too well, and I struggle and cry until I’m out of breath… and then I give up. I’m down in the sand until my knees now, and the water that I at first thought was nice and warm is slowly rising at this time of day. I’m gonna die. This is the end of me, I know it. I shouldn’t have gone away from Mama. The fairy is a dangerous trickster, like Papa says we can’t always trust the ones with magic just like we can and can’t trust the ones without.
But it doesn’t matter. I’m dead now regardless of who I trust and who I don’t (actually I don’t really agree with my dad, it sounds like an entirely sad life). I will not have a life…
I sink a little more and then I just drop on the sand, watch the waves near me slowly, ever slowly, retreating and then coming back, the little tricksters.
It takes me long, to realize that now that I lean sideways, I can move my legs again. Pull them up, and if I’m slow then I can free them. Gasping, I try not to wrap my mind about this miracle… I shove myself away from the quicksand-island, and get back into the water.
The next part is rather long, but I make it. This time, I do not rest by standing still, oh no. No way I’m doing that again! When I’ve caught my breath again, I move immediately.
By the time I reach the Island Resort, I am out of breath, wide-eyed, hungry and shocked and wet and almost-drowned. But the tears have long since washed away and dried.
I came here for the adventure and I got way more than that.
I came here for the prettiest of shells, and I will find them.
I came here for to beat the sickness, and that’s what I’ll do!
They’re trusting me!
but what do I know?
Aodhán
little fire
Aodhan lands on a quicksand patch and nearly drowns... or maybe it was a sandmonster after all?
(PS I made a typo in my very last sentence and it really bugged me so I deleted the whole post and replaced with this one.)