Writing

Holly on the Old Oak - The Witching Hour

November 13, 2011 - 9:14am — quadraptor

Holly on the Old Oak 2011
Story 7

The Witching Hour
Continuation of the Endless Forest Witches

”Dear sisters, it is now two months since Halloween. Our Forest friends are now thinking of sugar plums and such rather than chills, thrills, and the occasional spills. So what are we to do tonight, on this Christmas Eve?”, Nekumbra asked the other witches as they sat in a circle around a glowing magic flame.

”The usual, I would assume? Terrorize and harm those who deserve it?”, Medea suggested.

”No undeserved justice tonight, Medea. The wicked should be allowed this night to rest. It is a holiday, after all.”, Herla spoke.

”Then perhaps we could haunt and spy on some of the little ones. See if they are enjoying their holiday?”, Nebel offered.

”Perhaps…perhaps we could reward some of those who we find. Show them the meaning of peace and happiness even from witches.”, Honeyfur added.

”Not a bad idea, really. But what would we reward them with?”, Sorrel asked.

”Well, we have…”, Kerrigan thought for a moment, ”…there’s those old trinkets we have stored away. They could do as nice gifts.”

“Oh this would be quite fun! I am interested!”, Marie Antoinette said in anticipation.

”Then it’s settled. Random gift giving tonight. We shall depart immediately.”, Umay said.

“Agreed!

Writing

Holly on the Old Oak - A Dozen Pinecones

November 13, 2011 - 9:13am — quadraptor

Holly on the Old Oak 2011
Story 6

A Dozen Pinecones
Adaptation of the Baker's Dozen

The late Fall months were upon the Endless Forest, and it was the time for the animals to collect food for the winter. Some struggled through this process, others were more successful. Akemi was more than prepared for the winter, and even was generous enough to help others. She collected pinecones several months in advance of the other animals in the Endless Forest, and had a hoard of them saved for not only herself, but those who were hungry as well. On a regular basis, she would be approached by a deer who was unable to find food in the dwindling months, and she eagerly gave each visitor twelve pinecones, as she had more than enough to share.

One afternoon, Akemi was approached by a lowly doe. ”Hello, Akemi, I heard you were giving away pinecones for the winter. May I have a dozen?”, Mystress said.

”You heard right. I’ve got enough to give. Here, let me give you some.”, Akemi replied, and soon offered Mystress twelve pinecones.

The doe saw how many pinecones was in his hoard, and politely asked, ”If you don’t mind, may I have one more? I asked for a dozen.”

Akemi tilted her head, ”I gave you a dozen pinecones and you want another? Listen, I only give away twelve.”, she spoke.

Mystress frowned, ”You can’t spare one more pinecone? I asked for a dozen, not twelve.”

By now, Akemi was becoming annoyed. She replied, [b]”Look, I need to save the rest of these for the winter. I simply cannot give away too many.

Writing

Holly on the Old Oak - Christmas in the Afterlife

November 13, 2011 - 9:12am — quadraptor

Holly on the Old Oak 2011
Story 5

Christmas in the Afterlife
Original Story

The stealthy ninja climbs the concrete pillar
He hones his skills, the expert fulfiller
Treading upon both vine and stone
Kinsha trains upon the Ruins alone

A morning glory grows on the slab
The kunai thrown, the flower stabbed
With a cling and a clash, line in crosshair
He catches the bud as it drifts through the air

The ninja now sits, the flower in grasp
A sigh now heavy, he releases his clasp
So severed bloom now flutters away
To land almost perfectly on an unmarked grave

The ninja now sits much like a gargoyle
While below something shifts in the soil
And soon the dearly departed arrive
Their dirt and snow covered bodies revived

They look to one another, their eyes of death
And now spot the one who draws his breath
Eight deceased deer now climb the ruined shrine
To meet the silent ninja of living tine

He spots their movements with sudden surprise
These eight enemies who surely seek his demise
Kinsha rises from his stance, and with a bound
Backflips off the stone and lands on the ground

The dead ones soon follow, their intent unclear
But the ninja did not wish to be a meal to these deer
So with swift hoof and nerves on edge
He raced across the Forest, past tree and hedge

Here chased Roe with eyes black as night
Her vision locked on the ninja’s flight
And close was Trunks, the spirit of the land
The chase easy for his legs to withstand

Soon followed zombies, Valentine and Birth
Unstoppable forces that now walked this Earth
After the ninja was also Brynhried
Who could easily match Kinsha’s speed

Ghost Fawn and Shyla pursued together
Their bodies swift and l

Writing

Holly on the Old Oak - The Three Wise Deer

November 13, 2011 - 9:11am — quadraptor

Holly on the Old Oak 2011
Story 4

The Three Wise Deer
Adaptation of The Three Wise Men

The kings have traveled from far away
They follow the bright star, never to stray
Past shepherds and their flock, they do not delay
To bring gifts to the newborn fawn of the hay

The first to come is Kody, the king of wolven clan
His ebony fur shimmers beneath the starlit land
His gift to the fawn to rise and command
The lupin stone of scarlet firebrand

The second king is Crucio, of pride and tone
The silent reaper of fearful crone
His gift is meant only for those of the throne
A sacred relic, a dragon’s wishbone

The third is the ruler of science, Mar Sart
His crown bears truth of a deer so smart
The gift he brings is closest to his heart
A golden key with knowledge to impart

The three bow to their fawnly king
Gifts to lead, master, and inspire they bring
They see the future as bright and brimming
As the Great Star above on this holy evening

Story 3

Index

Story 5

Writing

Holly on the Old Oak - The Weeping Tree

November 13, 2011 - 9:10am — quadraptor

Holly on the Old Oak 2011
Story 3

The Weeping Tree
Adaptation of the Jewish story of the Tree that Absorbed Tears

Author’s Note – This story was included this year in honor of those who celebrate Hanukkah during this time.

On an autumn day, a doe met a kind stag, and the two were soon mates. Ourania was looked on with favor by her mother, Ma, and the doe loved her mother dearly. Ourania and her new mate soon decided to migrate to a new home far away, and once every year her mother would come to visit.

But when they arrived at their new home, Ourania soon discovered that life had become more difficult. There were new challenges for the couple to handle, such as low food sources at times as well as predation from coyotes. Ourania was lucky that her strong stag could protect her, but the night time was especially terrifying for her when she heard the coyotes call. But there were other things that were troubling to her in this new place. The environment was not as clean as Ourania had liked. The water in the streams tasted odd, and the air had an unusual smell.

When Ma came to visit, she learned that Ourania was miserable in this new home. ”Mother, I hate this forest. The grass and berries taste terrible, and there are too many coyotes attacking us. I’m on edge every night just thinking about them.”, Ourania spoke.

[=#EDDA74]”Oh mon enfant, it is quite belle here, no? Why not give it some time, I am sure you will love your new home then.

Writing

Holly on the Old Oak - The Snowdeer

November 13, 2011 - 9:09am — quadraptor

Holly on the Old Oak 2011
Story 2

The Snowdeer
Adaptation of Frosty the Snowman

The Forest was filled with snow, and the Pond was frozen just enough for the fawns to slide across on their little hooves. The adults laughed and conversed while the little ones bounded in the snow, leaving hoof tracks and even trying to draw their pictograms in the snow with their hooves.

Deep in the Birch Forest, four young deer worked on a creation. ”I just love the idea of making a dragon in the snow!”, Kamikazi said excitedly.

”I thought it was some weird deer…”, Seda spoke.

“It’s a ‘kirin’, kind of a mix between a dragon and a deer.”, Anjali explained.

”Well I’m going to just love it when it’s finished!”, Blue said happily.

The four continued to build on the snow creature. They put leaves down it’s sides, giving it a green stripe for a bit of color. The mane of the kirin was covered with willow leaves. They put long stalks of field grass on the snout to give it whiskers. And even the eyes were made from special pale-blue stones that the Twin Gods gave them.

The four were very pleased with their creation, as the snow kirin sat like a statue, guarding and protecting them with a pose much like that of a gargoyle. But then Seda tilted his head, ”It doesn’t have antlers…”, he spoke.

”Hmm…well we could go find some fallen twigs for antlers I suppose…”, Kamikaze suggested.

Anjali shook his head, “I think we could find a real pair of antlers, I’m sure someone’s shedding theirs this late in the year.”, he thought.

[=#6666CC]”Oh good idea!

Writing

Holly on the Old Oak - Peace on Earth

November 13, 2011 - 9:07am — quadraptor

Holly on the Old Oak 2011
Story 1

Peace on Earth
Adaptation of the 1939 Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer cartoon

Joyful, all ye nations rise
Join the triumph of the skies
With the angelic host proclaim:
“Peace on Earth, goodwill to men”
Hark the herald angels sing
“Peace on Earth, goodwill to men”

The fawns and young deer sat around the elder, his chiseled face smiling upon them all. The gods provided them a fire this cold night, and all around were old artifacts, reminders of those who lived long ago. The deer sat by old helmets, guns, bullets, and other decaying things that they knew very little about. They simply passed by these things on a daily basis, never understanding what a “man” even was.

“Sir? What does that mean? ‘Goodwill to men’?”, one of the fawns asked.

Iaurdagnire smiled, as he is asked this question each time he sings the old carol. “Ah yes, the mystery of men. Well, look all around and you will see the old things men used to have. See, these odd, unnatural things were like their antlers and fur. They used them to fight one another, and over time, they ceased to exist.”, he spoke to them.

“What did a man look like?”, a different fawn asked.

“Oh they were like monsters. They wore great big iron pots on their heads, walked on their hind legs, and carried terrible shooting things, with knives on them. And their eyes flashed, and had strange snouts on their faces that go all the way down to their stomach.”, the storyteller certainly made the fawns shiver when he described them.

“But how?

Writing

Xair's first day

November 13, 2011 - 8:14am — Zarinthya

Dawns light arose over the deerling's pelt drawing him from the resemblance of sleep to see the wind brush through the thicket. Shifting his wieght onto spendly legs Xair slowly pushed from the ground and shook his pelt, still to young to hold onto any mask or spell for very long his pelt remained simple. Eyes darting about in morning cuation before stepping out into the dulling grass spotting no others around, leading to a peacful morning.
The spring was also clear that morning, but the fawn was still carful remembering the last time he drank from the strange fountains lead to him hopping around as a rabbit. Bending down slowly Xair dipped and drank dreading the strange feeling that fallowed. Befor long the male fawn found himself feeling very small and mucusy. Instead of a rabbit the spring had changed him into the being of a small frog. Giving a small croke of dissapointment he waited for the spell to end before moving off to look for the violet flowers that bloomed around the forest floor in small to large patches of color.

~~~~

~Zar

Writing

Zarinthya's blog
Login to post comments

Peregrination of Iphea- Cataclysm Part One

November 13, 2011 - 2:30am — FaunGrae

The trees crackled. They fell like dominoes, collapsing. Crouched, I just stood there and cowered as they all seemed to crumble and pile in mountains around me.

Roe... Roe...

I took a running leap, hooves clipping and using springy trunks to leap over the mounds.

This must be the Cataclysm, that was what I feared. The things I put away but knew would happen to our precious forest.

Clouds of dust were everywhere. They clawed at the sky, the clear blue expanse above the devastated forest, golden like flame as they floated away on the wind in clouds of heavy smoke. This heavy smoke clouded my vision, I could not find my mate.

Thud thud thud thud thudding beneath me my hooves fell hard and quick in rhythm. I raced the beat of my heart, which ever-sped higher and higher. Piles, like mountains, loomed and cast shadows as I passed through the thin crevasses that formed between the timbers. The stumps seemed to have been rent from the ground, roots creating expanses of dirt-clod rope, seeming to wish capture upon those who ventured close. I steered away, my face raised to the wind, scenting through the earth-and-dust air for my mate. Frantically I drove forward, trying in vain to smell her.

I heard her first. Crying out for me. The sound ripped my soul.

Writing

A Pondering of an Observation about Creative Expression

November 12, 2011 - 8:57am — theano

You know, why are there wars in the arts?

Art is an expression of the self set forth not necessarily for an audience but just a bubbling out of inner creativity that sometimes can be for joy or molded into a living for pay.

In music there is this constant debate between classical musicians, rock musicians and of course church musicians and all us that just love the art and participate out of the joy of it. They are always arguing and ranking which is better and who is the better artist-----including and excluding--the truth is the same chords, notes sounds and the overtones or chromatics are the same whether its jazz, rock, Beethoven, a lovely Eastern tune or a kid making a song up.

In art the tools change but the colors are the colors and it is in the mixing that the tones and beauty come out yet here too there is a debate between crayons, digital, oil, acrylic etc. and then there is writing ---the same scribblings, letters, words, sentences, organizational structure in any language whether writing for SEO or a novel or an academic paper are the same and yet here too you see a developing trend that is not positive.

And yet when one looks over the ages and at new artists-- the ones that create something that catches our attention often have used the skill of synthesis to create their expression and it appeals to a wide audience exactly for that reason because in it you find a piece or a part of you--a reflection. The arts present truth in a different fashion or sometimes even the lies in a different fashion, and if so why not be different from what the rest of the world does? I refuse to throw any of it away and call one better than the other or participate in such. Only to encourage and share something positive so people keep expressing life through art. Each level or type I have done has taught me a lesson, given me joy and healing, a way to let out pain safely and a way to be fully me.

Writing