Swamp Girl

poetic short story. Set in a fantasy land.

Swamp Girl

 

Deep in the heart of a Swamp lies an enchanting wooden home. Embedded and carved out of trees, woven with branches and covered with leaves. Standing on stilts, ever so slightly it wilts as it grows and moves with the breeze.

 

A creature stirs from a cavernous pit, all warm and safe and dimly lit. Its dark outside but not far past dusk, the creature must rise, she has slept enough.

She pulled herself up, out of her hole. Steadied her legs then reached for the bowl. The glint of the mirror forced her to look her colour was fading she needed some Souk. The bowl was empty, her memory served - the previous day she had drunk more than just hers. She gathered her clothes and reached for the bag, now she would go, go and get swag.

Down the trees into the dark, she feels her way to her starting mark. The moonshine offered its glass bright glow, guiding her, as if it should know.

Sniffing the air, tasting the leaves, she grows closer to the thing she needs. With scrambling hands all sludgy and wet, she pulls at the roots of a Kingernet. She rips it in half, gaining her prize, taking a breath she suddenly sighs. Pungent and fierce with its bright orange blaze, she swallows it down her mind erased. 

 

……………………………………………………………………..

 

How she came to be this thing. Was beyond the mind of normal kin. She was once a girl of beauty and pride, striped down bare her life subsides. Against her will she was taken by demons, inside her mind they played with her dreams, twisting and turning, forcing belief �" she was nothing, nothing but grief.

Away she ran, as fast as she could, she ran to what she thought was the woods, her legs were sinking the ground gave way and the water begged, begged her to play. To come to the dark come to the deep. It was here she could stay, here she could weep.

The Demons danced they played they laughed, they pulled her in, they gave her a glass.

- ‘what’s your vice my little one, why’s your face so grim and glum? We can show you, you can see we have trees filled with glee.’

‘A little souk will see you right, you’ll understand the demons of the night.’ The souk went down, her mind revived, the grief was gone, her mind alive. The Demons played all night long, but as dawn came. They were suddenly gone.

She felt the glare, the sun in her eyes, she needed the shade she needed to hide. She swam to the edge she could see the trees, here she would sleep, here she could breath. She gathered some shade and fashioned a bed, then lay down snuggly upon her head.

When nightfall came she felt the fire, the urge, the thirst, a demon desire.

She swam through the swamps, the water so still. They had given her something to calm the shrill.  It had made her feel alive and warm, it had stopped the rain and the deafening storm.

She swam with ease dipping her head, flicking her feet disturbing the dead.

At first she thought she was caught in the reeds, kicking and tugging she realised defeat.

Down she went, gasping for air swallowing hard, filled with despair. They pulled her fast and forced her down, just beneath the wet slimy ground. As her eyes came clear she saw the cave, covered with bones from the various unsaved. The walls were dripping forming pillars of blood besides fountains of souk flowing with love. Swamp Girl stayed as calm as one can, this sight was not something made by man.

She glanced at a fountain, she wanted some souk �" the demons eyes lit �" he knew that look.

‘Would you like a drink?’ He said with a sneer, ‘as you can see there’s plenty here.’ Swap Girl felt she should resist, instead she leaned in and begged for a sip. Her body went warm her shoulders writhed, she looked at the cave �" how homely, how divine.

A demon led her to a baroque chair, ‘here’s the deal, here’s what’s fair’. You find us the Kingernets. We’ll take care of all your debts. You can have your plot of land but in return we have your hand, a promise of a thousand roots no exceptions, no excuse. The Kingernets that are ripe, you know where they are, you have that insight. ‘You my dear, can taste and smell, you can lead us to the wells.'

'Every week we want that paid, or with the rest we’ll have you laid.’ ‘You may be surprised to hear, how many of you lost souls just ‘disappear’’

They gathered the helpless, the lost, the weak, they took them to this place to keep. There is something about a tortured soul that can be led down any hole. Many had come, few had gone, she had to decide; she didn’t have long. Swamp Girl agreed, she liked the Souk �" she would pay, and on it they shook.

 

 

……………………………………………………………………….

 

Diving head first, she swam through the black, pulling the roots that filled her sack, it was clear to her which trees held the souk, a sniff and a taste was all it took. The Kingernets, called her to come, to take from their roots the love of the sun. Night by night she gathered more, paid her debts settled her score. The Demons loved her she was never late, her Souk was always high above weight.

She built a house within the trees she drank her Souk �" it filled her needs. Inside her mind her thoughts were pure, seemingly this was the cure. Nothing mattered anymore, she couldn't remember the pain from before.

Ten years she slept in seeming bliss, ten years all safe in her cavernous pit. She was given the gift, it would seem, to live her life within this dream; but deep, deep down she missed something �" the touch and feel of the common kin. The Souk was there to cure that craving but her mind was strong, it wasn’t a plaything. What had happened to bring her here? �" She couldn’t remember �" it wasn’t clear.

Author's Note

This is a story I would really like to make into a longer piece, but.... I am concerned that it may not be as enjoyable to read as it is for me to write. Before I go any further with it I wanted to get some feedback - please feel free to criticise :)