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The monthly Question from the Insecure Writers' Support Group is due today, Ash Wednesday. I wrote the Words for Wednesday yesterday, but forgot this. The answering of the question will be postponed to later this week
March 5 question - If for one day you could be anyone or *thing* in the world, what would
it be? Describe, tell why, and any themes, goals, or values they/it
inspire in you.
My answer - Well maybe I already did this. Pondering if and when to answer, I'll repeat
The Wand's Tale from December 11, 2019. It is a collateral part of my Unicorn Farm storyline.
The Wand's tale
In the beginning I was a part of a tree. A wonderful big Japanese
cherry tree. I was one of the topmost branches, Life was sweet, I could
see the fields around me, changing every year from plowed fields, to
greening wheat, to mature crops to being harvested and back to black
soil over and over. I saw people harvesting with scythes in my youth,
then tractors and combines took over, but the fields looked the same as always.
And when my tree was big enough, and the leaves dropped every Autumn, I could see the far away sea.
The farm all the fields belonged to was built when or maybe even
before my tree was planted. It was always there, When I was young, it
was teeming with life, people, animals, and children, always lots of
children. And horses. Those beautiful creatures, working in the fields
all the workable months, and pulling carriages in Summer and sleighs in
Winter, oh I remember the bells ...
Then slowly the teeming life died down, pigs, cows, horses, dogs,
cats, and hens, all disappeared. The motor vehicles took over the
stables, and of the farmer's couples with children, farmhands and maids
and their children, harvest helpers and even more children, only the
farmer and his wife remained. They grew old, but no new ones took over.
The farm fell into disrepair. And one day it all just stopped. A farmer
came ploughing, sowing and harvesting with a behemoth machine, but nobody
lived nearby any more.
It was a lonely time, a meditative time. I grew, but more trees grew around me.
Every year the farm looked a bit more decrepit. I felt sorry for it.
Then new houses slowly grew in the far away fields. The wind carried
sounds of laughter, splashing and frolicking from the sea, sometimes
even people singing bawdy songs at night, disturbing the birds. The
terrifying, yet pleasant smell of smoke was often in the wind.
Strange people, dressed in black, looking serious and pompous came by
car. They put up signs around the house, all the while speaking of
demolishing and danger.
But nothing happened until one day in early spring. Some even more
peculiar-looking people arrived. They re-hinged the doors and gates,
they painted the walls, thatched the roofs and weeded the farmyard.
And then children began arriving, in pairs, in threes, alone or in
small groups, Strange things happened, magic was around. I could feel it
in my sap. I quivered all over. I felt something was about to happen.
And then a girl put her hand on my tree. I felt her calling to me. I
yearned to answer the call, but I did not know how to do it. An old lady
came and she also placed a hand on the tree. Then she sang. A song of
magic, of big deeds and wonders great and small. I was filled by this
song, so filled that I burst. It felt like dying. I fell from the tree,
broken, more alone that I had ever been. I fell and fell. The green
grass came ever closer, but then a small hand, the girl's hand, was
there, intercepting me, breaking the fall. I felt her love, and loved
her back with all my wooden heart. She took me everywhere with her, all
the time caressing my bark, grasping me tightly in her warm little-girl
hands.
That very same evening we had our first taste of magic. She was happy,
and so was I. Sparks flew, and we knew we were meant to be together
forever.
We learned the ways of magic together, Susan and I. We brewed potions,
transformed clothes pegs into swallows, we even flew. We kept her warm
and safe on many travels and through many dire perils and small
adventures.
But then the fateful Summer came. I still shudder when I think of it.
The black wizard had arrived from his far away land. Susan and her
friends fought hard and brutal, but always fair against him. Susan and I
did awesome things that Summer, and even invented a thing or two. Oh,
we worked together nicely. But he was strong and sly. He corrupted
people's heart and soul. Not my Susan, but so many of her friends. We
were afraid. And in the end we made the biggest sacrifice any witch and her wand can
make. We renounced our magic, so that the Nordic Countries could remain
free and proud.
That afternoon, as the day turned to evening, all the wizards were
gathered. My Susan was so very brave, she was part of a small guerilla
group. And they succeeded. Even thought their success was my demise, I
was proud of her.
As they all spoke that one, terrifying word. I felt the magic leave
me, I was only an old, dry branch. As Susan fell from the steps of the
building, limp as a rag doll, I broke in three pieces, forever beyond
repair.
