thelightest_feet | Recent Entries

Grieve not. I have loved you with everything I am, said James’ sylph. After he had wrapped Madge’s scarf around her, so tightly that her wings fell right off. He really didn’t mean to and never ever did he want it, but he killed her. First she lost her wings. Then he lost her - and all my sisters have grown shy of humans, because they know how the story goes.

Because we’ve learned that humans love differently. It’s what James’ sylph has taught us, they say in breathy voices and disappear in the mist. In thin air. Humans must own what they’re given. So although they both loved, James and his sylph – in the end she had to leave her life before his feet. While he had to leave her there, on the ground. Heavier than lead.

I don’t want to lower my voice around her own words, though. They’re too, all too strong – not makeshift like the moisture of dew on your wings, lingering only until you step into the sun. No, I truly, firmly (more firmly than anything I myself can be) believe that death isn’t too high a price to pay for love. Humans are mortal and they know they’ll die. Sylphs live forever and that’s why they shouldn’t fear death at all!

That's why. On the day when Effie, my dearest Effie, finally sees me, I’ve decided... I’ll let her wrap her scarf around my shoulders. If she really must. If it’s the only way. Grieve not.

TABLE A - GENERAL
001	Beginnings	002	Middles	003	Ends	004	Insides	005	Outsides
006	Hours	007	Days	008	Weeks	009	Months	010	Years
011	Red	012	Orange	013	Yellow	014	Green	015	Blue
016	Purple	017	Brown	018	Black	019	White	020	Colourless
021	Friends	022	Enemies	023	Lovers	024	Family	025	Strangers
026	Teammates	027	Parents	028	Children	029	Birth	030	Death
031	Sunrise	032	Sunset	033	Too Much	034	Not Enough	035	Sixth Sense
036	Smell	037	Sound	038	Touch	039	Taste	040	Sight
041	Shapes	042	Triangle	043	Square	044	Circle	045	Moon
046	Star	047	Heart	048	Diamond	049	Club	050	Spade
051	Water	052	Fire	053	Earth	054	Air	055	Spirit
056	Breakfast	057	Lunch	058	Dinner	059	Food	060	Drink
061	Winter	062	Spring	063	Summer	064	Fall	065	Passing
066	Rain	067	Snow	068	Lightning	069	Thunder	070	Storm
071	Broken	072	Fixed	073	Light	074	Dark	075	Shade
076	Who?	077	What?	078	Where?	079	When?	080	Why?
081	How?	082	If	083	And	084	He	085	She
086	Choices	087	Life	088	School	089	Work	090	Home
091	Birthday	092	Christmas	093	Thanksgiving	094	Independence	095	New Year
096	Writer‘s Choice	097	Writer‘s Choice	098	Writer‘s Choice	099	Writer‘s Choice	100	Writer‘s Choice

Title: differences
Table: general
Prompt: star

( differences )

Title: born
Table: general
Prompt: birthday

( born )

Title: stirred
Table: general
Prompt: she

( stirred )

The forest? No, I don’t want to live anywhere else. I don’t want to even imagine it! The trees are so green, with their buds and their paper-thin leaves. And the light playing in the glades. And the butterflies... They are sisters, dancing in a rain of the finest dust. The air here, it’s clear and clean. You can see everything, feel everything as if it’s seeping into your very skin. When I walk over the forest floor, slowly slowly the windflowers take root in my feet and for every step, my body turns more and more weightless till I turn with it. My gait into mincing. You would feel it, too! How high you can soar, when the breeze carries the warm scent of pure soil and caresses your back in the ticklish places where your shoulder blades are sprouting wings --

But humans don’t have wings. It’s true, they can learn to dance, if you sing songs to their feet and inspire their hands. Then they will come to understand, little by little. She could, if she’d look up at last. Since I would let my wings lift her burdens and both our weights. Even if it’s only a few inches over ground. A few inches, at the most. It’s enough. Nothing more. Because concrete doesn’t grow windflowers and the smell of gas is so very heavy. It’s the coldest, iciest of thoughts, but if I were to drop her... The concrete makes for such a hard surface, unforgiving of dance and vindictive of flight. She would hurt herself. Just from those few inches. I would have made her.

So I won’t leave the forest. I don’t want to! I love its simple nature. I’ll just keep dancing with the butterflies in the clover, to learn her steps in advance. And when I’ve danced, I’ll practice with the birds, spread my wings amongst the treetops that they build their nests in. While waiting for her to glimpse all these colours, it’s important that I become stronger and strong enough to take her with me.

Before we can dance and fly and the windflowers adorn her dark hair.

The weather is light. Light as a feather, light like my wings. Oh, she should really come outside today. There is no way she won’t see, once she looks up. Looks out the window. At last. She will see how blue the sky is. She will know how warm the sunlight could be, applied like powder to her cheekbones. How gentle the wind should feel, running along the lines of her neck before embracing her hair. Adding a much flimsier sweep to her gait.

Yes, today she will come.

And I will wait for her where the cornflowers grow, in the field where the goats are grazing. She won't be fooled into thinking of it as fallow. Lark nests scattered like hidden nuggets everywhere, so I'll lead her step till the end. Through the grass that's so much greener - near the edge of the forest. From there, the river isn’t far away. I’ve always wanted to show her the river.

Perhaps I'll wait for her by the riverside instead.

a single dance with you

Recent Entries

grieve not;

writing about flying;

{ originalfic100 } star ; differences

{ originalfic100 } birthday ; born

{ originalfic100 } she ; stirred

with the windflowers;

easy breezy;

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