This week’s #blogbattle word prompt is hair. This is run by Rachael Ritchey over on her blog Writing Rachael Ritchey. I encourage you to check out her blog, and this challenge.
1.1000 words max
2.fictional tale (or true if you really want)
3.PG (no more than PG-13) Content – let’s keep this family friendly!
4.Your story must contain the word(s) from the theme and/or be centered around the theme in a way that shows it is clearly related
5.Go for the entertainment value!
6.State the Genre of your story at the top of your post.
7.Post your story on Tuesday, by 11:59 PM PST
8.Use the hashtag #BlogBattle when tweeting your story, put a link back to your #BlogBattle Short Story in the comments section of this page, and/or include a link to this page in your own blog post (it creates a “ping-back” which will alert me and our friends to your #BlogBattle post)
My genre: Fantasy
Here’s my entry for this week:
Winter wished it was springtime. She was tired of shivering and looking at the bare trees of the Great Wood against a grey sky. She and Birch were flying ahead of the other three fairies. Flame was enjoying the attentions of Indian and Tango, both of whom were listening intently to his stories. Winter wondered how much was true and how much was exaggeration.
She looked down at the ground. It was covered with the remains of autumn’s leaves. The magic was quiet here, sleeping until spring arrived to wake the world up. She pushed an annoying strand of hair from her face and looked up again.
Finally, the trees started to thin out, and Birch said, “What do you think this Clan home will look like?”
“Could be anything,” she said. Fairies lived anywhere where the magic was strong, and they would be well-protected from the cold and animals. Not all animals were fairy-friendly.
Beyond the Great Wood was an open field, but it looked quite barren, as if the grass had left for the winter like the leaves. It reminded her of the River that had been polluted. So little magic and nature. Right in the centre was a large rock, and it seemed to be the centre of the magic for the place. Winter pointed to it, and before she could say anything, Birch nodded. “I see and feel it.”
Winter looked over her shoulder and caught Flame’s eyes. “Follow us,” she said.
They headed down, and landed on the rock. It was cold under her feet, sending shivers running up her body.
Birch took off again and flew around the base of the rock. When he landed again, he said, “I can’t see an opening anywhere.”
“Maybe it’s magical for a different reason,” Indian said.
“Like what?” Winter wondered aloud.
“I don’t know.” Indian started to walk in a small circle, her eyes downcast, studying the rock. “Perhaps it’s one of those objects, you know, like from the stories, that was leftover from before humans were what they are now, from the days of Great Magic.”
Winter remembered hearing the stories. “I didn’t think any of those things were left. That they had all lost their magic over the years.”
Indian shrugged, her pacing stopped. “Just a suggestion.” She looked at Birch. “What do you think of it?”
He looked between the two of them. “Erm, I don’t know. I mean, I suppose anything’s possible, right Flame?”
Flame looked around at them all. “Never was one for believing in old tales like that,” he said.
“Really?” Tango looked up at him with wide eyes. “I thought all fairies believed the old stories. I mean, they’re real, right? They actually happened?” She looked at Winter.
Winter didn’t like being put on the spot. “I’ve always thought of them as real,” she said. “Why else would we remember them?”
Flame shrugged. “I don’t know. But to talk of days when magic was everywhere, when we were a part of turning the seasons and keeping the rivers flowing right….it all just seems ridiculous.”
“Look around you,” Birch said, his eyes suddenly alight with something, “at all the things we’ve seen so far. The world isn’t running as it should do. That river was just one among what could be many. What if the magic of the world is failing and we are needed to put it right again?”
Winter looked at her hands and saw ice form there as she thought of it. Her power could make winter. What if another fairy’s power could make summer, or spring, or autumn? What if that was what all this was about? What if something inside their magic was waking up because the world needed them again?
What if spring wasn’t going to come unless they found a fairy that could make it come?