silverlynx-
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Daily 25th March
646 words
I laid back in the twisted branches of my tree, staring out distantly over my hobbit hole. The fairy lights twinkled at me and the fire cast a dim hazy light across my face. Jasper bounded up the little staircase, his tongue lolling out of his mouth, pink and slobbery, his eyes alight with mischief. I picked a wet ball and threw it in front of me enthusiastically. Jasper looked at me knowingly before leaping down from the gnarled trunk.
I grinned, the smile lighting up my circular wooden home. Glistening emeralds hung from the sturdy branches, glittering mysteriously. I reached out a calloused hand and clasped one of them, gently pulling it off the rough tree. I spun it around in my hand, awed by its wondrous beauty, lost in its lush iridescent world.
“Woof!”
Jasper nudged my hand, his eyes trained on the shimmering jewel. I sighed and held out my hand. He barked again, his tail wagging and disappeared into a sea of green. I gazed after him, thinking back to what would be happening in the Home Forest.
Mama swung through the moist jungle, gripping the coarse bark with smooth hands. Her face was hard and focused. She was looking for one thing in particular. Passion fruit. For over a week now she had been searching, searching for the signs of new life. But she couldn’t find it, not even a bud. The whole forest was drooping and blackened, brimming with sorrow from the raging fires.
Green. It had symbolised new life and hope. And it still did for me. That was why I planted this tree in the first place. A memory of home. Mama said that because my grandfather died the day I was born, I was that bud of life and hope, that renewal. I treasured those words as the last ones I ever heard from her. Then came the orphanage. Then came the Hobbits. Then came the new me. Mama was still out there, searching for me like she had promised.
“I’ll come for you, come back for you, darling. But you have to go. They’re coming.”
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
“They are advancing. They want to take over. So I have to keep you safe.”
Tears cascaded to the ground.
“Can’t I stay with you? I’d rather stay with you.” My voice cracked with emotion.
Mama’s face creased with lines.
“I promised your grandfather I’d do whatever it takes to protect you from… the Yan.”
“Mama! Don’t say their names!”
Mama shook her head, her lower lip wobbling. She took hold of my hand and cradled it.
“Some of them are just as scared as we are,” she explained, “They are scared of what we’ll do to them, and just want to live in peace. You have to appreciate that they’re like us.”
Even after that, after I had left, new life still grew, a beacon of love and buried pasts, longing yearning. Next to my bed by the window in the orphanage, beyond the biting vicious breeze, was a mango tree with beautiful leaves that shone a thousand colours in the harsh sunlight.
“Every midnight look up at a tree, and know that I’ll be doing the same, Silvi.”
I nodded and gulped, swallowing back tears.
“Your grandfather died when you were born, in the same hour. When you arrived, you held us all together. You were that bud of new life and renewal that kept us from falling apart. Keep that in your heart, Silvi.”
And with that she turned away, her raven-black hair flowing behind her. She looked back once and waved as I was driven away in a rattling cart.
“Goodbye, Mama.”
And then I realised green didn’t just mean new life and hope to me. It meant home and comfort, forgotten memories reborn. And I kept that in my heart.
646 words
I laid back in the twisted branches of my tree, staring out distantly over my hobbit hole. The fairy lights twinkled at me and the fire cast a dim hazy light across my face. Jasper bounded up the little staircase, his tongue lolling out of his mouth, pink and slobbery, his eyes alight with mischief. I picked a wet ball and threw it in front of me enthusiastically. Jasper looked at me knowingly before leaping down from the gnarled trunk.
I grinned, the smile lighting up my circular wooden home. Glistening emeralds hung from the sturdy branches, glittering mysteriously. I reached out a calloused hand and clasped one of them, gently pulling it off the rough tree. I spun it around in my hand, awed by its wondrous beauty, lost in its lush iridescent world.
“Woof!”
Jasper nudged my hand, his eyes trained on the shimmering jewel. I sighed and held out my hand. He barked again, his tail wagging and disappeared into a sea of green. I gazed after him, thinking back to what would be happening in the Home Forest.
Mama swung through the moist jungle, gripping the coarse bark with smooth hands. Her face was hard and focused. She was looking for one thing in particular. Passion fruit. For over a week now she had been searching, searching for the signs of new life. But she couldn’t find it, not even a bud. The whole forest was drooping and blackened, brimming with sorrow from the raging fires.
Green. It had symbolised new life and hope. And it still did for me. That was why I planted this tree in the first place. A memory of home. Mama said that because my grandfather died the day I was born, I was that bud of life and hope, that renewal. I treasured those words as the last ones I ever heard from her. Then came the orphanage. Then came the Hobbits. Then came the new me. Mama was still out there, searching for me like she had promised.
“I’ll come for you, come back for you, darling. But you have to go. They’re coming.”
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
“They are advancing. They want to take over. So I have to keep you safe.”
Tears cascaded to the ground.
“Can’t I stay with you? I’d rather stay with you.” My voice cracked with emotion.
Mama’s face creased with lines.
“I promised your grandfather I’d do whatever it takes to protect you from… the Yan.”
“Mama! Don’t say their names!”
Mama shook her head, her lower lip wobbling. She took hold of my hand and cradled it.
“Some of them are just as scared as we are,” she explained, “They are scared of what we’ll do to them, and just want to live in peace. You have to appreciate that they’re like us.”
Even after that, after I had left, new life still grew, a beacon of love and buried pasts, longing yearning. Next to my bed by the window in the orphanage, beyond the biting vicious breeze, was a mango tree with beautiful leaves that shone a thousand colours in the harsh sunlight.
“Every midnight look up at a tree, and know that I’ll be doing the same, Silvi.”
I nodded and gulped, swallowing back tears.
“Your grandfather died when you were born, in the same hour. When you arrived, you held us all together. You were that bud of new life and renewal that kept us from falling apart. Keep that in your heart, Silvi.”
And with that she turned away, her raven-black hair flowing behind her. She looked back once and waved as I was driven away in a rattling cart.
“Goodbye, Mama.”
And then I realised green didn’t just mean new life and hope to me. It meant home and comfort, forgotten memories reborn. And I kept that in my heart.