Make it short

Have you tried this writing exercise yet? If not, feel free to give it a go. I promise it will surprise you :-).

I quote Kasey Mathews from the WANA group “Write to Heal” for this writing prompt: 

“With paper and pen, or computer handy, lean back in your chair, or against the wall, or a sofa, etc., close your eyes and imagine you are sitting under a large tree with your back resting against the trunk. On the other side of the tree, a Storyteller has come to sit down and also rest against the tree trunk. With eyes still closed, just listen. Wait for the Storyteller to begin his or her story. When you hear it begin, simply write down all that you hear. “

“Make it short,”

she said.

And I sew it into pieces. But that wasn’t right either!

Warm, soft fleeces, little people and some hope

No good news today but a feel-good story. Please enjoy:

The Little People of Swabedoo (author unknown (at least to me 😉 ))

A long, long time ago, little people lived on earth. Most of them lived
in the village Swabedoo and they called themselves Swabedoodahs.
They were very happy: they walked around smiling from ear to ear
and said hello to everybody.

What the Swabedoodahs liked most was to give each other warm,
soft fleeces as a present. Everyone of them carried a pouch over his
shoulder and this pouch was filled with soft fleeces. When
Swabedoodahs met each other, the one gave a fleece to the other.
It’s very nice to give someone else a soft fleece. It tells the other
person he’s special; it’s a way to say: “I like you!” And it’s just as nice
to get such a fleece from someone else. You feel how warm and fluffy
it feels to your face and it’s a wonderful feeling when you put it softly
and lightly with the others in your pouch. You feel recognized and
loved when someone gives you a fleece and you want to do
something good, something nice right away. The little people of
Swabedoo liked to give and receive warm, soft fleeces and their life
together was always happy and cheerful.

Outside the village in a cold, dark cave lived a big, green kobold. He
didn’t really want to live there, outside, all alone and, at times, he
felt very lonely. He had already stood at the rim of the village, more
than once, and wished he could live between the cheerful
Swabedoodahs; but he had nothing to offer — and, besides, to him,
the exchange of warm, soft fleeces was big nonsense. If he met one
of the little people at the edge of the woods, he would grumble
something unintelligible and quickly walk back to his humid and
dark cave.
One night, when the big, green kobold stood at the edge of the woods
again, he found a friendly, little Swabedoodah. “Isn’t it a wonderful
day, today?” the little one asked, smiling. The green kobold just
made a drab face and didn’t answer. “Here, take a warm, soft fleece,”
said the little one, “this one’s especially beautiful. It’s surely meant
for you, otherwise, I had given it away already.”

But the kobold didn’t take the fleece. First, he looked around to all sides, to be sure
no-one was watching or listening. Then, he bent over to the little
one and whispered in his ear: “Listen, don’t be so generous with
those fleeces of yours! Don’t you know that, one day, you won’t have
any fleeces left, if you just give away everything?”

Surprised and a little helpless, the little Swabedoodah looked up to the kobold. Who
had, in the mean time, taken the pouch of the little one’s shoulder
and opened it. He sounded very satisfied, when he said: “Didn’t I
tell you? Just hardly 217 fleeces you’ve got in your pouch — so, if I
were you, I’d be careful giving them away!” And with that, the
kobold went off, on his big green feet, and left behind a confused
and unhappy Swabedoodah at the edge of the woods.

He was so confused, so unhappy, that he didn’t realize that what the kobold
had said was totally impossible. For every Swabedoodah had an
inexhaustible supply of fleeces. If he gave away a fleece, he would
get one in return from someone else, right away, and this would
happen time and again, a whole life long. So, how could they run out
of fleeces?
The kobold also knew this but he trusted the credulousness of the
little people. And something else he trusted; something he had
discovered within himself and of which he wanted to know if it was
inside the little Swabedoodahs, as well. So, he consciously lied to the
little Swabedoodah, sat down at the entrance of his cave and waited.
In front of his home in Swabedoo the little, confused Swabedoodah
sat, brooding. It didn’t take long, before an acquaintance passed by,
with whom he had already exchanged many warm, soft fleeces.
“What a beautiful day!” his friend exclaimed, reached inside his
pouch and gave the other one a fleece. Who, however, didn’t accept
it joyfully but warded it off with his hands. “No, no! You’d rather
keep it,” the little one exclaimed, “who knows, how quickly your
supply will decrease. One day, you’ll be without fleeces, just like
that!”

The friend didn’t get it, just shrugged, put the fleece back into
his pouch and walked away, saying good-bye softly. But he took
confused thoughts with him — and on the same night, in the village,
one could hear three more times, how one Swabedoodah said to
another: “I’m sorry, but I don’t have a warm, soft fleece for you: I
have to be careful not to run out of them.”
The next day, all this had spread through the whole village.
Everybody started saving their fleeces. They did give one away, every
once in a while, but only after long and careful deliberation and very,
very cautious. And they weren’t usually the especially beautiful
fleeces but those with little stains and already a bit worn-out.
The little Swabedoodahs became suspicious. They started observing
each other distrustfully; they started considering whether the other
person was truly worthy of a fleece, or not. Some even went as far
as hiding their fleeces underneath their beds, at night. Arguments
arose from the question, how many fleeces someone owned. And,
eventually, people started exchanging warm, soft fleeces for things,
instead of just giving them away. The mayor of Swabedoo had even traced how many fleeces there were in total and, then, announced that the number was limited and declared the fleeces to be currency.
Soon, the little people were arguing about how many fleeces
spending a night or having a meal in someone else’s house was
worth. There were even some cases of fleece robbery! In the twilight,
they didn’t feel safe, anymore; while, before, the Swabedoodahs
liked to walk in the park or on the streets, in the twilight, to meet
each other and give each other warm, soft fleeces.
At the edge of the woods sat the big, green kobold, observing
everything and being very satisfied.

The worst of everything happened some time later. Something
started changing regarding the health of the little people. Many
complained about pain in their shoulders and backs — and, in time,
more and more Swabedoodahs were taken by surprise by this illness
called spinal weakening. The little people walked around bent — in
serious cases even bent to the ground. The fleece pouches were
dragged on. Many started to believe, that the cause of their disease
was the weight of the pouches and that it was better to leave them
at home and put them away, there.

It didn’t take long before one could hardly find a Swabedoodah with a fleece pouch on his back. The big, green kobold was very satisfied with the result of his lie. He
wanted to find out, whether the little people would act and feel like
him, when he, as was the case most of the time, had selfish thoughts
— and they had acted like him! The big kobold felt very successful.
He came to the village of the little people more often, now. But
nobody said hello to him with a smile, nobody offered him a fleece.
Instead, he was stared at distrustfully, just as the little people stared
at each other. The kobold liked this: to him, this behaviour was the
“real” world!
In time, even worse things started happening in Swabedoo. Maybe,
because of the spinal weakening; maybe, because no-one gave them
a warm, soft fleece, anymore – who knows? – some people died in
Swabedoo. Now, all happiness had disappeared from the village.
Their grief was immense.
When the big, green kobold heard about it, he was very shocked. “I
didn’t want this,” he said to himself, “I surely didn’t want this. I only
wanted to show them what the world is really like — I really didn’t
want them to die!” He thought about what he could do, now — and,
indeed, something came up.

Deep inside his cave, the kobold had discovered a mine with cold,
prickly stones. He had spent many years digging the prickly stones
out of the mountain and storing them in a quarry. He loved these
stones because they were so beautifully cold and they prickled so
pleasantly when he touched them. But not only that: he also loved
these stones because they were all his — and, every time he looked
at them, the impression of possessing great wealth gave the kobold
a satisfying feeling. But now that he saw the misery of the little
Swabedoodahs he decided to share his stone wealth with them. He
filled numerous little bags with cold, prickly stones, put them on a
big barrow and went to Swabedoo with it.
How happy were the little people, when they saw the cold, prickly
stones! They took them gratefully. Now, they had something to give
to each other, again. however: if they gave someone else a cold,
prickly stone to tell him they liked him, a cold, unpleasant feeling
came into their own hand and also in the hand of the person, who
received the stone.It was not as nice to give away cold, prickly stones
as to give away warm, soft fleeces. Every time, one would feel a
strange ‘tugging’ at the heart, if one received a prickly stone. One
also wasn’t quite sure what the giver really meant. The receiver often
stayed behind confused and with stinging fingers.
So, slowly but surely, it happened more often that a little
Swabedoodah crawled underneath his bed, took the pouch with
warm, soft fleeces, ventilated them a little bit in the sunlight and, if
someone gave him a stone, he would give a warm, soft fleece in
return. And how did the eyes of the receiver shine! Some walked
home quickly and dug up their pouch to give a soft fleece, instead of
a prickly stone, too. However, they didn’t throw the stones away.
Moreover, not all Swabedoodahs fetched their pouches, again. The
cold and prickly stony thoughts were embedded too deeply in the
heads of the little people. One could gather it from the remarks:

– “Soft fleeces? What’s the intention, really?”
– “How can I find out whether my fleece is really wanted, or not?”
– “I gave a warm, soft fleece and what did I get in return? A cold,
prickly stone! I won’t let that happen again.”
– “You never know where you’re standing: fleeces, today; stones,
tomorrow.”

Probably, all little people of Swabedoo would have gladly returned
to the things that were only natural to their grandparents. A single
one looked at the bags in the corner of his room, filled with cold,
prickly stones, so heavy that they were hard to bring along.
Therefore, often, one didn’t even have a stone with one to give to a
friend. Also, the little Swabedoodahs secretly, without saying it out
loud, wished for someone coming to give them warm, soft fleeces.
In their dreams, they imagined how they all would walk around on
the streets with cheerful, smiling faces and give each other fleeces,
like in good, old times. When they woke up, however, there was
always something that kept them from really doing it that way.
Usually, they went outside and, then, saw what the world was
“really” like.

This is the reason that giving away warm, soft fleeces hardly ever
happens, anymore — and usually not in public. But it does happen!
Here and there, time and again. And who knows… one day…?

image of fig tree in desert landscape

The Fig Tree

A few years ago I was using a writing prompt for creative writing. I feel it’s time to resurrect it. I wrote this story several years ago.

I quote Kasey Mathews from the WANA group “Write to heal” for this writing prompt: 

“With paper and pen, or computer handy, lean back in your chair, or against the wall, or a sofa etc., close your eyes and imagine you are sitting under a large tree with your back resting against the trunk. On the other side of the tree, a Storyteller has come to sit down and also rest against the tree trunk. With eyes still closed, just listen. Wait for the storyteller to begin his or her story. When you hear it begin, simply write down all that you hear. “

This is what the storyteller is telling me today:

Today I guide you to a far-away land where a girl patiently waited for her mother to come home. She had gone to get water from the well a little away, but today she needed much longer than usual.

The girl was afraid as her father had died a few months ago. They were living on a little farmstead away from the hustle and bustle of the city that ruled over the land. The girl desperately wished for her mother to come home and make breakfast. But mother would not come.

image of fig tree in desert landscape
Image by Ben Kerckx from Pixabay

“Oh, what shall I do?” the girl asked the lonely fig tree they were nurturing carefully, giving it water every day. The little family’s farmstead was situated right in the middle of an approaching desert, and their only income was this fig tree and the goats which roamed the landscape for food. It was the girl’s task every evening to go and fetch the goats and bring them home to stay the night in the little barn her father had build.

The fig tree rustled its leaves and played with its fruit. After a little while, it whispered:” Give me some water, little one”. The girl who had waited under the tree for her mother looked up. “But I only have a little left and mother has not come home yet. I won’t have anything left if I give it to you and she won’t come back.” The fig tree considered this for a little while and then whispered again:” Give me some water, little one.”

The girl looked out over the deserted plain towards the city, which already gleamed in the morning sun. She turned her head a little and looked towards the oasis where her mother had gone to get water. The rocks strewn all over the plain shivered in the heat, and she could see a little point quivering in between.

“I have asked the fig tree for advice. It gave it to me, so I better follow it” the girl thought and went into the house to get the last drops of water in the jug. She carefully carried it outside the door and to the right where the fig tree grew on the wall. She gently poured out the last drops of water on the roots of the fig tree. “Thank you little one” the fig tree whispered.

fig tree leaves in front of blue sky
Image by Antal Bódi from Pixabay

The girl took the jug back into the kitchen and looked around. There were bread and butter and honey but nothing to drink left. “Oh, what shall I do?” she wondered again. But as she did not find an answer, she went back to sit under the fig tree.

The girl gazed over the plain, which quivered with heat. Her mother should be nearby now, but she wasn’t to be seen anywhere. The point the girl had seen before still was out there somewhere.

“Go and prepare some bread with butter and honey” the fig tree whispered suddenly. The girl looked up into the profoundly green leaves and saw the fig trees not yet ripe fruit dance. “I haven’t been taught how to prepare bread yet,” she said.

“Go and prepare some bread with butter and honey” the fig tree simply answered. “Oh, I am doomed!” the girl thought, but she got up and got back into their hut. “What if I drop the honey or butter? What if I cut the bread too thick or even cut myself?” the girl worried.

She stood in front of the table where bread, butter and honey waited. She stood and waited. But her mother did not come. “I have asked the fig tree for advice.” she thought. “It has given me more advice, so I better follow it.” She, therefore, went to the table, took the knife and cut three even pieces of bread. She laid them out on the big plate they only used for celebrations. Then she carefully spread some butter on them all and trickled some honey on each of them. She covered the plate carefully with a huge bowl to keep away the insects.

fig tree branches
Image by PublicDomainPictures from Pixabay

But all this new work has made her thirsty. “Oh, I wish I would not have given the last drops of water to the fig tree.” She thought. “What shall I do?” But this time she did not wait for the fig tree to give advice. She went outside and caught one of her goats. It was the biggest one which gave the sweetest milk. So she took her back to the shed where the goats slept at night. She went back into the house and got the wonderfully decorated jug they only used for special occasions. Then she milked the goat and the sweetest milk the goat had ever given poured into the jug.

The girl was happy. “Mother will be pleased when she comes home and sees such a beautiful breakfast.” she thought when she took the jug back onto the table. She covered it carefully with a cloth to keep the insects away.

She went back outside to sit under the fig tree again. It rustled with its leaves gently and whispered:” Well done little one. See over there……” and one of its branches pointed towards the oasis where the girl could now see a camel approach with two women sitting on it.

“Oh dear,” the girl thought “strangers! And mother is not here! What shall I do?” She leaned a little closer to the fig tree to hide under its leaves. She watched the camel approach.

Camel and rider in desert
Image by Simon Matzinger from Pixabay

But the two women on the camel were not strangers. They were her mother and grandmother. How happy was the girl to see her family approach? She ran towards them and cried:” Oh, mother! Oh, grandmother! I am so glad to see you!”

Both women got off the camel, and the girl could see that it was carrying a much bigger skin filled with water than her mother usually brought home. They hugged the girl, and her mother said: “Let’s hurry in. It is getting hot, and I have not made breakfast yet. You and your grandmother are hungry!”

But the girl answered: “The fig tree told me to make bread with honey and I milked the goat, and everything is waiting on the table inside, but I had given it the last drops of water, and I am so thirsty”.

Mother and grandmother looked at each other and then hugged the girl. “You have done well. Here have some of the fresh water we have brought first and then let’s have the breakfast you have prepared” they said to her. They gave her to drink, and when she finished, she watered the fig tree again. “Thank you for your advice” she whispered, but the fig tree just rustled its leaves and played with its fruit.

blue sky with two fig tree branches
Image by Ulrike Leone from Pixabay

Please stay safe, stay kind and rock your life as good as you can 😊

Please stay a little longer and find my poetry posts on The Bee Creates… on Weebly. Thanks!

You are more into photography? Then please check out my photo posts on Bee Wordless on Blogger.

You can also find my photos on Dreamstime (affiliate link, you do not need to buy anything but if you do I get 10% from your purchase).

Just one more thing before you go: The hospital that is treating me is fundraising for a dedicated breast cancer unit which would allow same-day diagnosis and better premises for patients and staff.

Please, if you can spare a little money hop over to their Just Giving Page and give as little or much as you can. Or share the page on your social media. Your support means a lot to me! Thank you very much.

Thanks my dears, for staying with me until the end. I appreciate your presence. Please stay safe, stay kind and remember that you rock!

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Story Time ~ A Woman Who Runs With….? (Attention might trigger)

I am running deeper into the woods.

Around me, I can hear them panting. Their paws hardly make any sound while the soles of my clumsy feet seem to catch every single dry branch in my way. Even though it is just a silent crackle to us it sounds like a wall of rocks coming down.

My heart races. I have never felt more alive or freer. And even though some of the elders still give me looks they don’t growl at me anymore. Since I have saved that youngster from drowning and then warmed her until we got saved. I nearly drowned myself. 

When I tried to get home that day they did not let me. The whole pack moved around me growling when I got up and walked towards the village. I stopped in my tracks and did not move for minutes. I thought they would kill me then. They had never done anything like that before when I came visiting. Just sitting there watching.

The village did not approve. They never approved of anything I did. They said I had brought them upon them. But I always suspected they had done that themselves.

How that day turned my life. Now I had plenty of food and a warm place at night in one of their caves. I also had some sense in my life: Taking care of the youngsters when they were ill, getting food and if necessary to fight. They did not mind me using a spear. 

The leader had shown me the ancient place where you still could find old stone spearheads. For a moment she had seemed to be in human shape, then she ran and I did not see her for a week. That was when I started growling, barking and howling. 

And now this. The cub killer had taken one of ours. I knew him. He also ravished his own. Too many times had I seen the blankness in his eyes when that evil took him over. The village never acknowledged it. They just pretended he was a shepherd. But what he shepherded they never let their consciousness enter. Too scary. Too evil. They rather blamed it on me.

The pack though does not do pretending or blaming. They see the truth and act upon it. Immediately. I can sense his presence. The smell of fear reeks from his footprints and I can hear his racing breath and his footsteps a thousand times louder than mine. He shouldn’t have come looking for me.

He should have given up. But my matured form he had spotted from afar made the evil boil and explode like a volcano. I smelled him before I could hear or see him. I took the youngster and ran back to the pack calling out. Calling out for their protection. 

The other little one had followed us. Great spirit only knows how she could have made it through the watchful eyes of the elders. He got her before the leader stroke. I will never forget the pitiful yelp she uttered when he wrung her neck. The same moment the leader was upon him. 

Her powerful set of teeth was on his neck, but he wriggled his way out and ran. It must have been the evil that gave him more strength. But it is natures power that makes the pack stronger. And it is the evil done to me that makes me stronger.

He has stopped now. I am elated. Soon. So soon I will get him. I know the pack will let me. I know the pack senses the power of my passion. The passion for justice. Not revenge.  I know the pack will let me because I still have to make my first kill…

 

Story Time ~ Gert Garbo’s last Play

February 2019

I think I might have posted this one a couple of times but I like it even though it is rather sad, so please bear with me 😉

August 2014

Gert Garbo had enough.

He woke up one morning and saw Gretchen Gable beside him in her flowery nightgown. He shivered. Her gentle face, which he fell in love with a few years ago suddenly appeared to just be a mask behind which a fool was looking for ….?

Well, what was she looking for? What were they looking for? What was he looking for?

Certainly not for his job at the office. He just fell into it after school. Any dream of a “career” he could have had was destroyed by his mothers “reality checks”: “How much do you earn with that?!”, “How secure is this?!” and “How far up can you get?!”.

She could have lived with “journalist” but he had no intention of writing at all. Funny that he was writing the whole day now. Business letters, memos and other dry matters of working life. He even denied himself the joy of the theatre society, he had attended as a teenager.

His mother did not even visit one of his performances. Father was there. Every time. He came to him after they had finished, clapped him awkwardly on the shoulder and said:” Nice son. Very nice.” and left without another word. Gert never found out if his mother knew.

Gretchen turned around and moaned a little. That made him run. Not literally of course. He got up quietly and put on his colourful patchwork trousers he had hidden since he found them in the yard. He did not care anymore. He opened the wardrobe quietly and got the bright yellow kaftan out he took with him from his last performance in Antony and Cleopatra.

He never got over the fact that they did not let him play Antony. He was good enough. He knew he was good enough. Sometimes he made Gretchen act as Cleopatra when he was especially bored with their lovemaking. It always turned him on.

Today though was the day. Today was the day when his own play would be performed. The one he was thinking about for some time. He had figured out every scene of his one-man play. He had figured out the places and words that would never be heard though. His audience would be like his mother.

“Goodbye,” he said gently to Gretchen, who did not even stir.

Of Forests and Wasps….. A Story (Part III)

On Friday we heard about Robert’s family’s “holiday home” a tipi and how he got afraid of the forest. And we learned about his friend Squirrel and met his uncle. Yesterday we went up the mountain with his father and saw an accident:

He took his water bottle, some dressing and the iodine out of his leather backpack. His father had shown him how to use them. Just in case. He took some pieces of the dressing, wet them with the water and tried to clean the wound as good as he could. It was not deep but bled terribly. Another piece of dressing for the iodine. He then carefully bandaged the wound having his fathers head in his lap. His father’s breath was calm and regular but he did not wake up. “What shall I do now?” He realised that he was shaking again badly. He hugged himself and sat down taking a sip from his flask. His body calmed down a bit.

He felt the soft breeze coming out of the forest. The insects hummed soothingly. There was a little hoot somewhere away. He had not realised that the owl had flown to the entrance of the path and sat there patiently. He shook his head “I can not leave him alone owl! I just can’t” The bird hooted reproachfully at him. He began to shake harder again. His father’s voice came to his mind:” If someone is not conscious longer than half an hour you must under all circumstances go and get help!” The words rang in his ears.

For some strange reason, Squirrel came to his mind. “Here is a little guide for you!” his father had said to Squirrel one day when he came to visit them. He gave Squirrel a beautiful wasp in a block of glass but Squirrel dropped it immediately. “I can’t take that!” Squirrel said. “Why not?” asked Roberts father. “Because it is dangerous!” “How is it dangerous?” “Well it stings!” said Squirrel as if Roberts father was an idiot. “Has this one stung you?” His father asked. Squirrel looked at him first and then at the glass block at the ground. “No,” he said slowly. “Has any wasp stung you so far?” Another slow “No” “OK!” was all his father said and he left the room. Squirrel had a look at Robert who just shrugged his shoulders. He knew his fathers sometimes odd ways very well but he did not say a word. When Squirrel left that day Robert realised he had taken the wasp.

A stronger hoot brought him back to reality. “I can’t! I just can’t!” That feeling started creeping up his spine and into his stomach. His breath ran out of space and he felt like fainting. “You can’t faint! You can’t faint!” he said to himself. Another sip from the flask. Breathing heavily he said again:”I can’t” But the owl’s eyes just seemed to say “Remember what your father told you!” followed by a really reproachful hoot. “He would not expect me to go through the forest on my own!” Robert thought but even as he thought it he knew he was searching for excuses.

He stood up. The bottle in his hands. And then just stood there. Suddenly the owl came flying back and landed on his shoulder. It was a tiny white barn owl who tipped his ear with its beak. “You can do it” it seemed to say. “No I can’t!” anger glared up in Robert. “I can’t” He moved his shoulders suddenly and the owl nearly fell off but caught itself up and flew back to the entrance but then made another turn and flew away. “Don’t go! Please don’t go!” Robert shouted.

But he was alone. He had a look at his father who laid peacefully under the tree. ” If someone is not conscious longer than half an hour you must under all circumstances go and get help!” he heard again. Robert had a look to the path which loomed gloomily at the other end of the meadow. The branches of the surrounding trees looked like giant teeth just waiting to swallow him. ” If someone is not conscious longer than half an hour you must under all circumstances go and get help!” Robert did not know how long his father was unconscious. He did not have a look at his watch as he was taught.

Robert slowly walked over to the path. Too soon he was facing its hollow line down the mountain and his muscles just blocked. He could not go any further. He heard another hoot from inside the forest along the path and he could see the owl’s wings flutter a bit further down. He suddenly felt calmer.

“OK then,” he thought and ran. When he reached the owl breathing hard the bird just left the branch which it was sitting on and flew a bit further. Robert stopped for a minute and caught his breath. Then he ran on. And ran and ran and ran. All the way back down to his uncle’s lodge. His uncle saw him and came towards him “Robert! What happened?” but Robert just fainted in his arms.

He was back with Squirrel in the city. They were at the storage shed with some Gobstoppers in their mouths when the familiar buzz of a wasp grew louder and louder. Robert was looking around checking and as he saw the insect tried to wave it back out. Squirrel said:” Please leave it alone!” “What?!” Robert could not believe his ears. “What have you just said?!” “I said: Leave it alone!” and Squirrel grinned. “After your dad gave me the wasp in the glass I could not stop thinking about it. I started reading up on it. I got to the library and borrowed all the books about insects. Do you know that wasps help as much as bees to pollinate flowers? Without them, we would not have anything growing. And there are wasps which are parasites. They eat up loads of bugs that no one wants. The ones that destroy plants for example. And the nests they build are fantastic!” Robert stared at Squirrel. “I think I have to call you wasp from now on!” He laughed. “But how can reading help you to lose your fear?” “Don’t know!” Squirrel just said. “It just happened!”

“Robert!” “Hmmmm” His whole body was aching. He did not want to open his eyes. “Robert!” he realised it was his fathers calming voice. “DAD!” he was up in a second. His father was lying in the bed beside his in his uncle’s lodge wearing a turban-like bandage around his head smiling at him. “Oh, dad I am so glad you are ok!” “And I am very proud of you!” His father smiled. “Why?” “You went through the forest to get help!” “But I waited too long!” “Well you got help and I am safe and that is the main thing! I am very proud of you!”

A few days later they were back at the tipi. Robert was in front of the forest with a bowl full of bread, butter and berries. He walked a bit into the oak trees until he reached a single beech tree. He placed the bowl under it. “Forest I greet and honour you! Thank you for providing us with shelter and nourishment! Thank you for saving my father!” He got up, smiled and ventured deeper into the forests secrets. There was the faint hoot of an owl somewhere!

Of Forests and Wasps ~ A Story (Part II)

Yesterday we heard about Robert’s family’s “holiday home” a tipi and how Robert got afraid of Forests. We also found out about his friend Squirrel and his uncle:

An hour later they were through the forest and sat on a huge boulder hanging a bit over the edge of the rocks. It’s dark grey seemed to have collected all the warmth of the rising sun. The wind was still cold and Robert wished he could watch the hawk again. But they were sitting on the other side of “Where blessings flow bountifully” which faced north. They could see the green, yellow and brown of the flats as their people called the flat area around the city. There was a quilt of meadows, wheat- and corn fields. They were not high enough yet to see over the forest to the south where Hawk Mountain was situated. Robert was totally exhausted. He just stared at the flats not even realising that they could hear pheasants his favourite birds calling further up the mountain.

He had been tense the whole two hours they walked briskly upwards. He used to love this path as the view from the boulder at the end of it was amazing. He tried to remember the view when walking through the forest but he could just concentrate on his hurting muscles, his tight chest and breath that stopped constantly. He nearly hyperventilated. His father got worried and wanted to stop for a while but Robert just wanted to get away from the forest. “At least drink something” his father had urged him.

He now laid down on the boulder feeling the warmth of the stone and the sun above. Insects were humming around them and he was glad not to smell the dampness of the forest anymore. “I do not want to go back!” he thought. The images of the tall oak and pine trees, that felt like they were all gathering together to attack him, came into his mind. Of course, he knew trees could not do that. But it felt like any second they would let another huge animal through them just to mock him.

His father pointed backwards. “See over there! That tall pine tree? There is the nest. The mother should be out already for food. We have to be very careful if we want to get to the chick!” Robert was supposed to watch out for the mother while his father would get up the tree with a handful of sparrows and mice. He’ll grab the hawk while feeding it. “Shall we?” his father asked. “OK!” Robert said not at all ready.

“Please stay underneath the tree and tell me if the mother comes back as soon as you spot her” “Yes dad!” Robert knew. His father had taught him long ago. He watched his father walk through the high meadow grass and blue and white little flowers. He made a trail through it and Robert would follow soon when his father had prepared. He would connect with Mother Earth, apologize to the bird’s mother and then get on the spikes to climb up the tree. Robert got up from the warm stone and went along the little trail his father had left. He situated himself a bit further from the tree to be able to see the sky as well as the tree.

Robert watched his father getting up higher and higher. He heard the light scratch when his father’s spikes got into the bark of the tree. He was watching the sky. “It is unusual that the mother does not hunt here!” There was more than enough space for mice and sparrows and what not to be found here. But he could not find a glimpse of the bird. A sudden creak that seems to cut through his bones made him look back at his father. But he could not find him up the tree. He had not heard the faint thud with which his father hit the ground. “OH my god!” Robert ran to the tree. ”No No Nonononononono!” He reached his father and saw his big body laying lifeless on the floor. One of the spikes leather stripes had broken while the other food was not on the bark yet. The spike was still hanging in the bark up the tree. There was a big bleeding wound on his fathers head where it hit the little rock that laid on the ground. “Breathe, breathe” Robert said to himself. His chest got so tight. He started to shiver badly. He sat beside his father closing his eyes. “What can I do?!” But there was just emptiness inside of him. “Father!” He cried out but his father did not answer. There was a calm hoot somewhere. It was his father’s animal spirit guide’s call but Robert could not see it with his inner eye. Another hoot just a bit louder. Robert opened his eyes and saw an owl sitting on the first branch of a young beach next to the pine. “I greet and honour you!” He said in a trembling voice and suddenly knew what to do:

to be continued

Of Forests and Wasps ~ A Story

It was time!

The sun just crawled over Hawk Mountain the highest mountain Robert has ever seen. The dolomite rocks on top were covered with snow and his father had said that it never melts. Robert looked at its distinct features on top. “The rocks at both sides of the peak really look like the wings of a hawk” he thought. He let his eyes wander down to the lower parts of the mountain and its dark green pine and oak trees. There were many open grass areas and he could make out a bird circling above one of them. That was what they came for. His first hawk! He would get his first hawk! He could not take his oak brown eyes away from the circling bird with its maroon plumage and black and white striped wing weathers.

His father came out of the family’s traditional tipi. His tall figure clothed in earth coloured hunting garment looked reassuring in front of the tipi’s leather. It was black at the bottom with two rows of big white spots. The entrance coloured red like the poppies growing all around them and a blue top like the sky where the smoke indicated that his mother was still cooking. Even away from the tent Robert could smell the faint touch of smoke in the intense scent of damp grass and fresh flowers. They spent the summers here in their ancestors own country away from the noises of the city. Here were only sparrows, pidgeons and other birds singing and sometimes they could hear the calls of other animals.

“Are you ready?” Robert still did not take his eyes away from the circling bird. The morning breeze played with his short cut raven hair. He could only see a small spot but in his mind he had the image of the pointed beak and the clear eyes watching the ground and he could feel the cold morning air floating around him. There was the suns warmth as well and no clouds.

“I think so!” but he was not sure. The Forest came into his mind….

He was unaware that his father furrowed his brow. His father went to the right where their shiny black Jeep was parked in front of the darkness of the forest full of pine and oak that surrounded the little clearing the tipi was situated in. There was only a little light were the path came down. Robert stood on the other side of the clearing at the window. That is what they called the southern part were rocks fell down into the valley which opened to the east for the city. Fields and little villages lay sprinkled all over it and you could even make out trees and the blue, orange and yellow of field flowers. High pine trees stood to both sides on the cliff’s edge which gave the impression of a window frame. This was the place he liked the best. He could not see the forest. He only heard the wind playing with the trees branches.

“Come on then!” His father was already in the Jeep. Robert ran over and climbed into the passenger seat. “Why are we not going to hunt at Hawk Mountain?” He asked. “Well first of all it is too far away. We would need the car and secondly it is sacred space. We do not disturb Hawk in its sacred area! “ His fathers voice was as dark as a protective cave and no matter what chaos Robert was feeling as soon as he heard his father talking or singing everything was ok. “But we go with the car anyway!” “Yes because uncle Askuwheteau will have a look at the strange noise the jeep’s making. “ “And why do we have to catch a young bird? Isn’t it cruel for it to be taken away from its mother?” His father smiled while he started the Jeep and steered it towards the little path. It made a kind of clicking noise not regular but distinct.

Robert waved back at his mother who came out of the tipi. She was clothed in a dark green dress looking like the traditional dresses of her family but made out of linen instead of leather. “Animals are too precious and too endangered. I am not wearing leather any more” She had said when she sowed it at home and Robert’s father had questioned her about it. She raised both hands, her smooth palms faced outside. While she lowered them slightly towards the Jeep they were driving into the darkness. Robert could not see her any more. He hold his breath.

A few yards away the path parted in one going down to the left and one going up to the right. They were driving that way. His uncle was living in a lodge situated slightly up the mountain they called “Where blessings flow bountiful”. There were little streams everywhere in the surrounding meadows so that his sheep and cattle found enough to drink all year around. “I am glad we are taking the car” Robert thought. “I have to walk enough through the woods for the rest of the day!”

Robert could sense the valley to the right. He could not see a thing through the thick of the forest and that strange feeling started again. At first it was just a tightness of the chest. Then his heart started racing but they were out of the forest before his fear could hit in fully. “Are you ok?” His father asked. His voice calmed Robert down. He did not answer just nodded. “Is it coming back?” his father asked disapprovingly. Robert just raised his eyebrows. He knew his father did not understand his fear of the darkness and thickness of the forest. But no matter how many times he explained to Robert how forest provides food for them and protects them as soon as Robert came close to it everything started.

He thought about Squirrel, his friend in the city. A tiny ginger white boy who was afraid of everything and mostly wasps. At first Robert had laughed at him but when the big boys started bullying him he got angry. No one was allowed to bully in his wake. So he put up a fight with the biggest of them and knocked him down. They never bothered Squirrel again. And Squirrel followed him everywhere. At first Robert was annoyed. But Squirrel knew everything about hidden places in the neighbourhood. Though afraid he ventured out as his parents were working all the time. It was boring at home even for a scared child. Squirrel was strange somehow.

There was this shed where they found a gigantic box of Gobstoppers. They kept it save. They had Gobstoppers for months. They had great times there. Well until the wasps turned up. Squirrel just panicked. He just ran. He nearly got knocked down by a huge lorry coming around the corner of one of the Sheds. Robert had just time to reach him and pull him back. When both laid on the street he shouted at Squirrel:” Stop it! It is just a wasp!!! It leaves you alone if you leave it alone! JUST stop it!” “I can’t!” Squirrel had whispered.

Robert did not understand then. But soon afterwards his trouble with the forest had started. He went up to see his uncle. His mother and little sister were with him. He was ahead of them as always watching everything around him. There were tiny insects crawling all over the place. And hidden flowers and he could sense all the animals further away. But suddenly out of nowhere a huge deer ran up from the right directly at him. He just froze for a second then crouched down and the deer jumped over him. His mother and sister were excited as it meant deer one of the best spirit animal guides tried to connect with him. But it gave him such a shock he was kind of numb for the rest of the day.

His father realised his fear and had taken him to the forests edge and told the story of forest taking care of his ancestors. They were hunters. Forest provides deer and hare for food and also shelter as they used the young branches for the Tipi. He also told him about spirit animal guides and how they protect and guide us. He always thought about his father’s teachings when he came close to the forest but it did not change a thing. His chest got tight, his heart started racing. He hardly got breath. He just wanted to get away. Far away from the thing. Like Squirrel he could not help it. Now he understood Squirrel. He wished Squirrel would be here now. He would understand.

His uncle in his usual blue jeans and red and white check shirt was waiting at the gate and opened it. He had huge hands and a smile that shone from ocean to ocean. He gave the Jeep a loud clap “Hello little brother” he said to Roberts father laughing. His father laughed as well. “I will grow older but you won’t grow taller” he said cheerfully. “Aw do not make fun of my age. It will be a sting in my bones forever that I am the first born” His uncle let them park the car besides the tiny pine wood lodge that faced another “window”. This one higher up. Robert got out of the car. His eyes searching for the hawk at Hawk Mountain. “Hawk would not be afraid of Forests” he thought.

“Are you ready?” His uncle’s cheerful way made Robert shiver. “Yea if the Forest would not be!” he said in a frustrated voice. His uncle took a look at his father and shook his head. “It is time you get over this boy!” he just said.

An hour later they were through the forest and sat on a huge boulder hanging a bit over the edge of the rocks. Its dark grey seemed to have collected all the warmth of the rising sun. The wind was still cold and Robert wished he could watch the hawk again. But they were sitting on the other side of “Where blessings flow bountiful” which faced north. They could see the green, yellow and brown of the flats as their people called the flat area around the city. There was a quilt of meadows, wheat- and cornfields. They were not high enough yet to see over the forest to the south where Hawk Mountain was situated. Robert were totally exhausted. He just stared at the flats not even realising that they could hear pheasants his favourite birds calling further up the mountain.

He had been tense the whole two hours they walked brisk upwards. He used to love this path as the view from the boulder at the end of it was amazing. He tried to remember the view when walking through the forest but he could just concentrate on his hurting muscles, his tight chest and breath that stopped constantly. He nearly hyperventilated. His father got worried and wanted to stop for a while but Robert just wanted to get away from the forest. “At least drink something” his father had urged him.

He now laid down on the boulder feeling the warmth of the stone and the sun above. Insects were humming around them and he was glad not to smell the dampness of the forest any more. “I do not want to go back!” he thought. The images of the tall oak and pine trees, that felt like they were all gathering together to attack him, came into his mind. Of course he knew trees could not do that. But it felt like any second they would let another huge animal through them just to mock him.

His father pointed backwards. “See over there! That tall pine tree? There is the nest. The mother should be out already for food. We have to be very careful if we want to get to the chick!” Robert was supposed to watch out for the mother while his father would get up the tree with a handful of sparrows and mice. He’ll grab the hawk while feeding it. “Shall we?” his father asked. “OK!” Robert said not at all ready.

“Please stay underneath the tree and tell me if the mother comes back as soon as you spot her” “Yes dad!” Robert knew. His father had taught him long ago. He watched his father walk through the high meadow grass and blue and white little flowers. He made a trail through it and Robert would follow soon when his father had prepared. He would connect with Mother Earth, apologize to the birds mother and then get on the spikes to climb up the tree. Robert got up from the warm stone and went along the little trail his father had left. He situated himself a bit further from the tree to be able to see the sky as well as the tree.

Robert watched his father getting up higher and higher. He heard the light scratch when his father’s spikes got into the trees bark. He was watching the sky. “It is unusual that the mother does not hunt here!” There was more than enough space for mice and sparrows and what not to be found here. But he could not find a glimpse of the bird. A sudden creek that seem to cut through his bones made him look back at his father. But he could not find him up the tree. He had not heard the faint thud with which his father hit the ground. “OH my god!” Robert ran to the tree. ”No No Nonononononono!” He reached his father and saw his big body laying lifeless on the floor. One of the spikes leather stripes had broken while the other food was not on the bark yet. The spike was still hanging in the bark up the tree. There was a big bleeding wound on his fathers head where it hit the little rock that laid on the ground. “Breath breathe” Robert said to himself. His chest got tight. He started to shiver badly. He sat beside his father closing his eyes. “What can I do?!” But there was just emptiness inside of him. “Father!” He cried out but his father did not answer. There was a calm hoot somewhere. It was his father’s animal spirit guide’s call but Robert could not see it with his inner eye. Another hoot just a bit louder. Robert opened his eyes and saw an owl sitting on the first branch of a young beach next to the pine. “I greet and honour you!” He said in a trembling voice and suddenly knew what to do:

He took his water bottle, some dressing and the iodine out of his leather backpack. His father had shown him how to use them. Just in case. He took some pieces of the dressing, wet them with the water and tried to clean the wound as good as he could. It was not deep but bled terribly. Another piece of dressing for the iodine. He then carefully bandaged the wound having his fathers head in his lap. His father’s breath was calm and regular but he did not wake up. “What shall I do now?” He realised that he was still shaking badly. He hugged himself and sat down taking a nip from his flask. His body calmed down a bit.

He felt the soft breeze coming out of the forest. The insects hummed soothingly. There was a little hoot somewhere away. He had not realised that the owl had flown to the entrance of the path and sat there patiently. He shook his head “I can not leave him alone owl! I just can’t” The bird hooted reproachfully at him. He began to shake harder again. His father’s voice came to his mind:” If someone is not conscious longer than half an hour you must under all circumstances go and get help!” The words rang in his ears.

For some strange reason Squirrel came to his mind. “Here is a little guide for you!” his father had said to Squirrel one day, when he came to visit them. He gave Squirrel a beautiful wasp in a block of glass but Squirrel dropped it immediately. “I can’t take that!” Squirrel said. “Why not?” asked Roberts father. “Because it is dangerous!” “How is it dangerous?” “Well it stings!” said Squirrel as if Roberts father was an idiot. “Has this one stung you?” He asked. Squirrel looked at him first and then at the glass block at the ground. “No” he said slowly. “Has any wasp stung you so far?” Another slow “No” “OK!” was all his father said and he left the room. Squirrel had a look at Robert who just shrugged his shoulders. He knew his fathers sometimes odd ways very well but he did not say a word. When Squirrel left that day Robert realised he had taken the wasp.

A stronger hoot brought him back to reality. “I can’t! I just can’t!” That feeling started creeping up his spine and into his stomach. His breath ran out of space and he felt like fainting. “You can’t faint! You can’t faint!” he said to himself. Another sip from the flask. Breathing heavily he said again:”I can’t” But the owls eyes just seemed to say “Remember what your father told you!” followed by a really reproachful hoot. “He would not expect me to go through the forest on my own!” Robert thought but even as he thought it he knew he was searching for excuses.

He stood up. The bottle in his hands. And then just stood there. Suddenly the owl came flying back and landed on his shoulder. It was a tiny white barn owl who tipped his ear with its beak. “You can do it” it seemed to say. “No I can’t!” anger glared up in Robert. “I can’t” He moved his shoulders suddenly and the owl nearly fell off but caught itself up and flew back to the entrance but then made another turn and flew away. “Don’t go! Please don’t go!” Robert shouted.

But he was alone. He had a look at his father who laid peacefully under the tree. ” If someone is not conscious longer than half an hour you must under all circumstances go and get help!” he heard again. He had a look to the path which loomed gloomily a few yards away. The branches of the surrounding trees looked like giant teeth just waiting to swallow him. ” If someone is not conscious longer than half an hour you must under all circumstances go and get help!” Robert did not know how long his father was unconscious. He did not have a look at his watch as he was taught.

Robert slowly walked over to the path. A bit later on he was facing its hollow line down the mountain and his muscles just blocked. He could not go any further. He heard another hoot from inside the forest along the path and he could see the owl’s wings flutter a bit further down. He suddenly felt calmer.

“OK then” he thought and ran. When he reached the owl breathing hard the bird just left the branch which it was sitting on and flew a bit further. Robert stopped for a minute and caught his breath. Then he ran on. And ran and ran and ran. All the way back down to his uncle’s lodge. His uncle saw him and came towards him “Robert! What happened?” but Robert just fainted in his arms.

He was back with Squirrel in the city. They were at the storage shed with some Gobstoppers in their mouths when the familiar buzz of a wasp grew louder and louder. Robert was looking around checking and as he saw the insect tried to hurry it back out. Squirrel said:” Please leave it alone!” “What?!” Robert could not believe his ears. “What have you just said?!” “I said: Leave it alone!” and Squirrel grinned. “After your dad gave me the wasp in the glass I could not stop thinking about it. I started reading up on it. I got to the library and borrowed all the books about insects. Do you know that wasps help as much as bees too pollinate flowers? Without them we would not have anything growing. And there are wasps which are parasites. They eat up loads of bugs that no one wants. The ones that destroy plants for example. And the nests they build are fantastic!” Robert stared at Squirrel. “I think I have to call you wasp from now on!” He laughed. “But how can reading help you to lose your fear?” “Don’t know!” Squirrel just said. “It just happened!”

“Robert!” “Hmmmm” His whole body was aching. He did not want to open his eyes. “Robert!” he realised it was his fathers calming voice. “DAD!” he was up in a second. His father was lying in the bed beside his in his uncle’s lodge wearing a turban-like bandage around his head smiling at him. “Oh dad I am so glad you are ok!” “And I am very proud of you!” His father smiled. “Why?” “You went through the forest to get help!” “But I waited too long!” “Well you got help and I am safe and that is the main thing! I am very proud of you!”

A few days later they were back at the tipi. Robert was in front of the forest with a bowl full of bread, butter and berries. He walked a bit into the oak trees until he reached a single beech tree. He placed the bowl under it. “Forest I greet and honour you! Thank you for providing us with shelter and nourishment! Thank you for saving my father!” He got up, smiled and ventured deeper into forests secrets. There was the faint hoot of an owl somewhere!

 

…He thought about Squirrel, his friend in the city. A tiny ginger white boy who was afraid of everything and mostly wasps. At first, Robert had laughed at him but when the big boys started bullying Squirrel Robert got angry. No one was allowed to bully in his wake. So he put up a fight with the biggest of them and knocked him down. They never bothered Squirrel again. And Squirrel followed him everywhere. At first, Robert was annoyed. But Squirrel knew everything about hidden places in the neighbourhood. Though afraid he ventured out as his parents were working all the time. It was boring at home even for a scared child. Squirrel was strange somehow.

There was this shed where they found a gigantic box of Gobstoppers. They kept it safe. They had Gobstoppers for months. They had great times there. Well until the wasps turned up. Squirrel just panicked. He just ran. He nearly got knocked down by a van coming around the corner of one of the Sheds. Robert had just time to reach him and pull him back. When both laid on the street he shouted at Squirrel:” Stop it! It is just a wasp!!! It leaves you alone if you leave it alone! JUST stop it!” “I can’t!” Squirrel had whispered.

Robert did not understand then. But soon afterwards his trouble with the forest had started. He went up to see his uncle. His mother and little sister were with him. He was ahead of them as always watching everything around him. There were tiny insects crawling all over the place. And hidden flowers and he could sense all the animals further away. But suddenly out of nowhere a huge stag ran up from the right directly at him. He just froze for a second then crouched down and the stag jumped over him. His mother and sister were excited as it meant stag one of the best spirit animal guides tried to connect with him. But it gave him such a shock he was kind of numb for the rest of the day.

His father realised his fear and had taken him to the edge of the forest and told the story of forest taking care of his ancestors. They were hunters. Forest provides deer and hare for food and also shelter as they used the young branches for the Tipi. He also told him about spirit animal guides and how they protect and guide them. He always thought about his father’s teachings when he came close to the forest but it did not change a thing. His chest got tight, his heart started racing. He hardly got a breath. He just wanted to get away. Far away from the thing. Like Squirrel he could not help it. Now he understood Squirrel. He wished Squirrel would be here now. He would understand.

His uncle in his usual blue jeans and red and white check shirt was waiting at the gate and opened it. He had huge hands and a smile that shone from ocean to ocean. He gave the Jeep a loud clap “Hello little brother” he said to Roberts father laughing. His father laughed as well. “I will grow older but you won’t grow taller,” he said cheerfully. “Aw do not make fun of my age. It will be a sting in my bones forever that I am the first born” His uncle let them park the car besides the tiny pine wood lodge that faced another “window”. This one higher up. Robert got out of the car. His eyes searching for the hawk at Hawk Mountain. “Hawk would not be afraid of Forests,” he thought.

“Are you ready?” His uncle’s cheerful way made Robert shiver. “Yea if the Forest would not be!” he said in a frustrated voice. His uncle took a look at his father and shook his head. “It is time you get over this boy!” he just said….

To be continued tomorrow