Brigits Flame Sept Week 1
I basically had two ideas for this prompt. One was dark and scary and one was lighthearted. Going a bit against my norm, I decided to go with lighthearted. I actually have a secret love of children's books -- I love the honest language and imagination. So that is basically how I wrote this -- I had thought that perhaps if I had time, I would create and scan in pictures to go with it, but alas. I feel I'm lucky just to have finished the written part on time.
The Tuesday after Monday last I woke at half past four. I leapt from bed, I yawned and stretched, and donned my pinafore. And as soon as I was ready I skipped barefoot out the door.
My house is small and purple and sits under the lone tree. It’s the only house for miles around; there’s no one here but me. Unless you count the deer and bear and the coincidental bee.
I danced barefoot in the warm sunshine all down the countryside. I wandered whither where I would with the wind my only guide. Until I happened ‘cross a river and asked a turtle for a ride.
He swam on down the current and I rode upon his shell. Sometimes he hummed a gurgled tune in a voice sweet as a bell. We sped on down that river until rain and starlight fell.
We drifted down and I stepped out onto the muddy shore. I wiggled my toes to make muddy rows, and gave the turtle a high-four. (Turtles don’t have any thumbs, so I couldn’t give him more.)
There were trees beyond the riverbank holding shadowy lantern lights. They lit a path through the dark woods, and I floated down it like a kite. Soon I heard a mournful howl embroidering the night.
I didn’t ever think to stop, for I felt very brave. I pushed aside the underbrush and found myself in a glade. Congregating in the moonlit centre was a very odd conclave.
A moose, a cat, a vampire bat, (can you imagine such a thing?) sat next to a squirrel, raccoon, owl and loon all seated in a ring. And then from in the middle, someone began to sing.
A coyote with a violin winked at me as I stepped in. He’d been singing a sad and haunting tale, but he shared with me a grin: “It’s time we danced a little” he purred “And whoever dances longest wins!”
He jolted his fiddle to life and all of us began to clap the beat. Our heels pounded on the muddy ground, for his melody had overcome our feet. My face was flushed, my hair hung in strands, no longer clean and neat.
We danced that song, and then one more, and then he finally said, “The night is waning, I’ll take you home” - but I woke up instead. I’d never left my room at all. I hung my saddened head. But then I cast aside my sheets and marveled … at the muddy footprints in my bed!