This challenge started a long time ago. Now it has turned into a movable feast with Elephant's Child as our coordinator; and the Words provided by a number of people.
The
general idea of this challenge is to make us write. Poems, stories,
subtitles, tales, jokes, haiku, crosswords, puns, ... you're the boss.
Use all Words, some Words, one Word, or even none of them if that makes your
creative juices flow. Anything goes, only please nothing rude or vulgar.
It is also a challenge, where the old saying "
The more the merrier" holds true. So
please,
remember to follow the links, go back and read other peoples'
stories. And please leave a comment after reading. Challenges like this
one thrives on interaction, feedback and encouragement. And we ALL need
encouragement.
-- 🧙 --
The Words for the Wednesdays in March are provided by River,
who has decided to use fewer words in the hope that more people might be tempted to join us.
Today's words are:
1. Off the beaten track
2. Cheeky old fella's goin' fishin'
3. Bouquet
4. Marketing
5. Cape
6. Crease
These words were not very well suited for my story. I used only some of them.
It is a small chapter happening in the future at Birch Manor. Maybe half a year after the - as yet unfinished - long Saturday. This story has been bubbling in my brain for a long time, these last days surfacing at the most inappropriate times, getting in the way of work and fun. I just had to write it down.
The first few lines are a summary of how things are now.
Pippin's sorrows.
Things were running smoothly at Birch Manor. Helge was developing as a leader, My had arrived and taken over the teaching of potions, leaving Monica free to tend to the wine and party business in Oslo together with Olav, but their children and grandchildren were staying at the school, and they popped in at odd times for a visit or when needed, all this made easier by the now finished portals network.
Fiona handled the flying after Martine's demise, and Marit was the healing expert, sometimes helped by Fiona.
Susan and Knud of course handled the education in nature magic and the calling of animals. Some of the apprentices, among those mainly little Susan had asked for Familiars, but it was decided to postpone this question to a future day.
Heidi - now again using her old name, as did the twins, Tage and Lis - was master of transformation, while Jan handled the divination, assisted by the aforementioned Lis and her mother, Sandra, who was still alive and eager to help.
Finnbogi came as often as his job permitted and taught Portals and discernment magic and gave Mary extra education in discernment magic, simultaneously teaching her father, Rasmus quite a lot.
All seemed happy and busy. but one day when Susan had to check up on lil'Susan's bunnies, she found Lis' youngest grandson sobbing his heart out into the fur of the oldest, largest and most placid of Lil'Susan's many rabbits.
"But Pippin," Susan said and sat down on the bench next to him. "What happened? Did the old rabbit bite you?"
Pippin managed a shadow of a smile, the old rabbit was known to eat only grated carrots and shredded salad, as it had almost no teeth left.
"No," he sobbed, "it's ... do you promise not to laugh?"
"I'll do my very best," Susan promised.
"Ever since the day we had our wands sung, I have thought of how it was to listen to the tree's songs ..."
"That's no laughing matter," Susan said, while Pippin blew his nose.
"I ... I would like to ... but ... no," and he started crying again.
Susan put her arms around him,
telling the rabbit to go home. Pippin sobbed on for a bit, and Susan dug some tissues from one of her pockets: "They're creased, but not dirty. Now wipe your eyes and blow your nose once again. I think I know what you want to say, but you have to tell me yourself."
Pippin looked at Susan with big, brown eyes, now red and swollen from crying. Susan met his eyes and smiled an encouraging smile. He took the proffered tissues. After using them as suggested, he closed his eyes and balled his hands and spoke in one breath: "I would so, so much like to be able to sing wands like you and My do it, but Dora and Milo, Mary and Roseanne and all the others say that only girls can be wandsingers!" He buried his curly head in Susan's lap and started sobbing again.
Susan stroke his unruly locks while thinking. All the wandsingers she knew and had known, had been female, Thora, Tähti, My, Rósa, Anna, Aamu, and herself, but was this a rule set in stone? She had never contemplated this aspect of wandsinging before.
"Am I that terrible. Are my siblings and Mary and all the others right?" Pippin asked, his voice flat and sad beyond tears.
"No, at least I do not think so," Susan said, still thinking. "I do not know many wandsingers, actually only the five of us here. And our teachers; and they were female as well. But I do not know if this is purely coincidental or what."
She lifted Pippin's head between her hands, and looked him squarely in the eyes. He did not look away or flinch, but withstood her scrutiny.
"Well, the only thing we can do is try," She said, "come with me. Do you remember which tree gave you your wand?"
"Do I?" Pippin answered, "I have been visiting it often." He pulled Susan along down to the small wood near the pond. "This one here, this Maple!"
"And what do you do when you visit the tree?" Susan asked, trying to keep the budding happiness out of her voice.
"I hug it, place my hands on the bark, and just listen," Pippin answered, his voice so quiet, Susan had to bend down and listen carefully.
"Show me!" she said.
Pippin looked at her, back at the tree, and as Susan nodded, he placed both hands on the tree. In a short while his face changed ever so subtly, a slight smile turned his mouth upwards, he closed his eyes, rested his head against the tree, and sighed a complacent sigh.
Susan placed her own hands on the tree and listened; it sang of the summer's sun, of rain and snow, of sweet sap and bitter frost. It told of the children playing rhinos with its fruits and of cheeky old fellas goin' fishin' in the lake. Susan laughed. Pippin looked at her: "Do you hear what the tree tells you as well?"
"Yes I do," she answered truthfully. "And some of those stories are quite amusing. Dear Pippin, we're off the beaten tracks here, try singing with me." Pippin nodded, and Susan taught him the wandsinging tune. He sang it loud and clear, and the tree quivered in response.
"Obviously Dora and Milo and who else said only girls can become wandsingers are wrong," Susan said, "you sure have it in you to become a wandsinger. We'll have to go and speak with My and possibly the other wandsingers as well. Come along."
Pippin jumped along and Susan had to run just a bit to keep up with him. "Sorry," he said and slowed down, "I just feel a bit like flying!"
As they waited for My to finish the lesson, Susan asked the still smiling and jumping Pippin how old he was. "I'm 11, 12 in August," Pippin answered.
"We might have a problem when your voice starts breaking, but we'll cross that bridge when we get to it," Susan said. "But no matter what, I'm happy to know that we still will have wandsingers in the future."
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