Mother GaiaA Story by L0v3craftAn old piece from '07 I never finished for creative writing class, a "short short story". “Faolan!” Tsarina squeaked in the soft brush of tall grass, her breathing heavy and sharp with alarm. “Faolan, there are voices--in the wind, in the wind--voices, Faolan!” He stirred from sleep and raised his head from the ground with dark green eyes looking up into the two sapphires that trembled in night’s shadow behind long ivory curls, then listened intently to the wind whistling through the blades of grass. He smiled at Tsarina, smiled at her vulnerable youth girdled in innocent ignorance of the world, and then embraced the young child when she whimpered and crawled closer to him, shifting position so she could sit on his lap comfortably. He began to gently rock her in his arms, hushing her, while at the same time deep in thought about how to ease the child’s apprehension. The wind stirred again, shifting between groans and howls. “Do you hear?” she piped and then buried her face against his neck. “Aye, I hear,” Faolan replied and smiled again as the youth’s grip tightened around him. “What do they say--who are they?” “It is but only one whom speaks. Do you know the story of Mother Gaia?” She shook her head; face still pressed against his neck. “Folks use to say the voices in the wind belonged to the fair goddess, Gaia, Mother of all earthly creatures; creator of werewolves. She tries to communicate, however, in a language that’s long been dead to us since the dawn of Man, for the old ways now are shadows within the enigmatic past; history of an era we consider antique. It’s a shame no one knows what Mother Gaia says. She has much wisdom to share.”
© 2011 L0v3craftAuthor's Note
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StatsAuthorL0v3craftNPR, FLAbout"I embrace my desire to feel the rhythm, to feel connected enough to step aside and weep like a widow to feel inspired, to fathom the power, to witness the beauty, to bathe in the fountain, .. more..Writing
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