Oh, a story? Well, it’s not my usual manner of work, but I suppose I could think of something. Let me ponder the matter further, I’m sure I can recall something…

Ah, yes. This is a story about my dear friend, the Old Oak, and how she came to be. Now, this story, I swear upon my soul, is true. All the stories about her are true – how this is so, I cannot say, except that all stories about her are true. The Forest is, I think, a place where truth is many-faced. This is also a story about gods, and the birth of the forest, and about love. It’s not a good story if, on some level or another, it’s not about love.



Once upon a time, years and years ago, before there were years to count the time, or days – when all in the forest was a single expanse of color. We see that time, or that space, in our dreams sometimes; I know I do, at least, but I can’t speak for your dreams. It is blue and black and fades at the edges. It has no trees, no movement, no grass, no life. Back then, there were three gods – two gods, a red and a gold, who were really one god, and a green goddess. And they were all very dear friends. For them, the void was a great playground, because they had one another to lighten their loads. They had each other to play with, and all the raw stuff of the world, which they formed up like ephemeral castles of sand.

And then one day, the red god turned to her fellows and said, “we have such great fun in this world, but I believe we could have more fun.”

And the other two asked “How? How could we have more fun than we have now? We have each other to play with, and all the raw stuff of the world – what more could our hearts desire?”

“I believe,” said the Red god with a cunning smile, “that we might create more playmates for ourselves, deer like us, who could laugh and dance with us, that our music might fill up the universe.”

The other gods agreed this sounded like good fun, and they set to work. They made first a deer of their own size. They took the raw blue foundation of the void and crafted for it a face with bright eyes and lips to part in a smile; they made for it long legs like a spider’s for leaping, and delicate hooves for dancing on. Their creation had a long neck to nuzzle its friends with, and large ears to show its feelings clearly. But the creature, made for their own size, was so big it took up all their materials. They looked and saw that there was no more of the blue mist to dive in like water or climb up like hills.

“What will we do? We cannot create more playmates for ourselves, deer like us, who could laugh and dance with us, that our music might fill up the universe. There’s nothing left to build with!” The red and gold ones wailed.

But the green one sighed and said, “We will merely have to make it smaller. Come, let us break this one down and start anew.”

And, bit by bit, they broke it apart. They broke apart its middle, split by the spine; they broke its nose from its face, leaving a clean egg-shape behind; hey broke off its little wagging tail, that sweet little cotton-puff; they broke to bits all the apparatuses of its insides, its heart, its liver, its twisted intestines... Until at last there was no more deer, but rather the soft, cloudlike blue smoke it was formed of.

“Let us try again,” the gold one said. And again they set to work on their playmates. They took the blue light that made their world and crafted for it a face with bright eyes and lips to part in a smile. They gave it a little upturned nose, so it could smell the sweet smells carried in the air, that it could crinkle when it smiled or when it was uneasy. Their creation had a long neck to nuzzle its friends with, and large ears to show its feelings clearly. It was much smaller than the creature that they had made before, and so there was room for many, many more of it.

“It’s perfect!” They said. They used their magic and each gave a piece of their own soul to bring it to life.

It rose onto its trembling legs and glanced around. The gods were delighted. They danced and frolicked with their creation. They delighted in their creature’s wit and its laugh, and the music that it made when it danced. But after a time, their creation grew weary. It turned to its makers and said:

“Dear gods, I am very thirsty. Might I have something to drink?”

The gods looked at one another with concern. They had never needed to drink, and could not think of what to give to their creation. They offered it the mist of the void, and sweet melodies, and soft touches. They offered it saliva from their own mouths and liquid dreams. But none of these magical things was enough to quench the thirst in its very real throat, and it quickly withered and died.

“What will we do? We cannot create a playmate for ourselves, deer like us, who could laugh and dance with us, that our music might fill up the universe. They will all die of thirst!” the Gold and Red gods said as one.

“What if we made something for them to drink, and a landscape to hold this?” The Green one suggested.

The other two agreed this was a fine idea. They took their world and crafted it into a surface, full of dips and lulls. And in the middle they made a hole, and away from the middle they set a great stone; and from the stone came tears, which flowed into the hole. The tears collected and formed crystal blue waters, sparkling from the movement of the ever-flowing tears.

When they were satisfied with their work, they turned to creating yet another deer. And this third deer they crafted with long legs like a spider’s for leaping, and delicate hooves for dancing on. The made it with a tail to wiggle when it was pleased and a strong back to carry its burdens on.

“It’s perfect!” They said. They used their magic and each gave a piece of their own soul to bring it to life.

It rose onto its trembling legs and glanced around. The gods were delighted. They danced and frolicked with their creation. They delighted in their creature’s wit and its laugh, and the music that it made when it danced. But after a time, their creation grew weary. It turned to its makers and said:

“Dear gods, I am very tired and hungry. Where might I rest, protected from the light? What might I eat?”

The gods had never needed to rest and eat, and so did not know what to do. Rather than repeat their last mistakes, they put their creation in a magical sleep.

“We must create something to help our deer,” said the Red God.

“But what?” said the Gold God.

“We shall make plants for it to eat, and trees for it to rest under,” suggested the Green Goddess.

So they gathered the land beneath them and crafted it into leaves and trunks, into stalks of grass and bright flowers. They took from themselves and gave them colors: the glossy green of the Green Goddess’s underbelly, the brown on the Gold God’s hooves, and the sweet poppy-red of the Red God’s lips. When they were done, they were pleased at what a pretty forest they had made.

But it had no life from them, and so it withered and died as soon as it was made. The Gods bewailed their loss.

“What will we do? We cannot create a playmate for ourselves, a deer like us, who could laugh and dance with us, that our music might fill up the universe. The plants to help them will die!” the Gold and Red gods said as one. “We cannot put our own life into all these plants – there would be nothing of us left!”

The Green Goddess thought about this long and hard. At last, she came to a solution.

“What we want, most of all, is to have a world full of happy deer,” She said. Her fellows nodded. “Then I shall put my life into these plants – by being all these trees, and making them into my own flesh.”

“But you could not run and play with us anymore,” The Red God said.
“We would miss you, the Gold God said.

“I would be everywhere, and could watch our creations and their joy. I would sing sweet songs, so the music we make… Will fill up the universe.”

There was nothing they could say to that.

Weeping, they held their sister close. Then she transformed, her body becoming a great, knotted oak trunk, her antlers becoming wide green branches, so high up no one could see them. Her hooves became roots and plunged into the earth. And from those roots sprouted trees and grass, flowers and berries, and all the plants of the forest. They flourished because their soul was her soul. In the center of herself, she made a welcoming hollow for the deer to sit in on rainy days or when the sun was bright, because she loved the deer they had made.

When the Twin Gods again brought the deer to life, it ate its fill of the grass, and laid down to rest in the hollow of the Oak. They were pleased by the success, and began making more deer.

When they had made enough deer for now, they all gathered together. They frolicked in the flowers and by the cool waters. They laughed with the gods and danced all together. And as they danced, they were joined by the burbling noises of the rivers they had made. As they danced, they were joined by the gentle, throbbing hum of the Great Oak. Their music filled the universe.

And, as far as I know, they lived happily ever after.

It still needs a little work, I think, but I hope it satisfies that desire for a fairytale we all have sometimes.