14. I have a longer lifespan…
Today’s Prompt
14. I have a longer lifespan than you. I have seen much. Seasons of order degenerate into chaos.
400 Creative Writing Prompts Workbook Story Prompts for Journaling, Blogging, and Overcoming Writer’s Block Compiled by Debra Chapoton All rights reserved Copyright © 2020 by Debra Chapoton
Response
Samira, shimmering queen of the fairies, shivered. Fairies don’t shiver! Samira, born over three hundred years prior, anointed queen more than fifty years ago, reigned over a land of terrible beauty, full of magic and danger. She strode the world confident in her power, her authority, and her ability to overcome whatever might have the misfortune to cross her. And yet, standing before this presence, this being of such immense size, breadth, and, for lack of a better term, scope, she couldn’t suppress the tremble that shivered through her.
I sense your disquiet and discomfort, they said. I understand. While I offer my reassurances, I have learned they mean little to such as yourself who contend in strife and compare in power. Nonetheless, I still want you to hear that I mean you no harm.
While something uncurled inside of Samira, she realized they were right; she didn’t feel reassured. Her discomfort at feeling so small remained firmly in place.
She realized she was staring and tried to muster her will to speak. She just wasn’t sure what to say as she gazed up and up and… up, into the massive branches. At this closeness, she could turn her head left and right and not see the end of the width of the trunk. Leaves fell almost like a light rain, but not just straight down, but swirling in lazy loops and wide arcs as if carried by unfelt currents.
“I am Samira, queen of the fae,” she finally found her voice and decided to begin simply enough with an introduction. Manners matter. Especially when standing before an enormous ancient creature of untold power and majesty.
I know, they replied. The voice, if it could be called that, sounded like a chorus weaving together the most beautiful voices from the lowest bass to the highest soprano, all genders and varieties of vocal tone creating a symphony of sound that nevertheless conveyed meaning.
The simplicity and brevity of that reply gave her pause.
“I… Apologies, how shall I refer to you? My people and the peoples of my continent have many names, but what would you prefer?”
There was a pause, as if the great presence considered, and then, You may address me as Tree.
“Tree?” She couldn’t help but exclaim in repetition and disbelief at such a simple appellation for something so profound. Her magical senses still couldn’t make heads or tails of anything here, as if she keened every kind of magic and no magic at all, at the same time. It was distracting and not a little off-putting to have one of her senses be suddenly so unreliable as to be useless.
Yes, came the choral response.
“Great Tree,” she began, not being able to bring herself to use the simpler and so familiar designation provided to her. Swirls of leaves of gold and amber danced before her and somehow Samira thought it might be a sign of amusement from them.
“I have sought you out to seek counsel and alliance against a coming tide of darkness.”
Before she could continue, the music arose in her mind again, We are aware of it. However, we have a longer lifespan than you. We have seen much. Seasons of order degenerate into chaos. Chaos always exhausts itself until order reasserts. We observe; we remember; we encourage. We do not intervene.
Just as Samira was composing her reply, the Great Tree added Directly.
