This should be your face right now:
And if that isn’t your face right now, then you’re obviously not nearly as cool as I am. 😉
This week’s Wordy Wedneseday writing is a short story I did for mythology class this semester in which I had to imagine my own version of why the seasons change. Let me know what you think!
She sat by a pond in Central Park, small and secluded and dusted in the frost that lingered still from the night. She sighed and swept her lifeless dark hair from her forehead, looking around.
He was not coming. Again. Every day she had waited, and every day it had been in vain.
As the sun rose further, the pond’s ice didn’t crack and the frost barely thawed. She ran her fingers over a blade of dead and yellowed grass, contemplating. Her grey eyes cut to the bank of trees to her right as a snap rang out in the stale air, but nothing stirred – or at least nothing that could interest her – and she decided it must have been a squirrel.
He’s not coming, she reminded herself.
Beyond this quiet stretch of cold, and pond, and woods, children played and nannies scolded and life in New York City hurried on, but here in the clearing the girl sat with her legs tucked up beneath her and snow falling on her dark lashes.
“He’s not coming,” she said again, this time out loud. Her voice was smooth like milk, or hot cocoa long gone cool. Tears leapt to her eyes, icicles dripping down her pale and sullen face.
She’d been so sure he’d come. Finally. Today.
She lie back in the snow and closed her eyes, listened to the distant chaos of the city.
“Please,” she whispered. She had been waiting for so long.
And suddenly from the direction of the forest there came a distant roaring, of laughter and gurgling brooks and bare feet splashing through muddy puddles.
“Please,” she repeated, not opening her eyes in case she was dreaming. She could hear ice crack apart in the pond and a breeze whisper playfully through the trees.
“Please!” The word tore from her lips and she felt the snow melt from around her and under her so that her dress was soaked and her face was warm, the cool winter sun drawing closer and larger. She felt her pale skin grow healthy and her fingers reached upward as if of their own accord, wishing to touch and feel and taste the sunlight.
“Please…” she said one last time. Her clothes were dry, and the grass smelled sweet, and she felt a warm hand reaching for hers, pulling her to her feet.
“Open your eyes.” His voice was soft, directly before her. She didn’t let go of his hand, in case he might fade like a mirage and winter return once again.
The wry smile that he gave her reached all the way to his eyes, green like growing things, and made her heart melt. His fair hair seemed to glow with energy and life, like every strand was made of the pure sunlight streaming down through the budding tree branches above.
“You’re back. You came.” Her face was young and her dark hair no longer lifeless.
“You’re welcome,” he teased, and wild flowers erupted from the grass around them. Birds sang in the trees, and ice melted from the bushes, and the girl and the boy danced in the clearing, spinning around and around and around.
He came, she thought.
Beyond the clearing in Central Park, the people of New York City looked around in wonder and removed their heavy winter coats, laughing and chattering with one another.
It was springtime. Finally. Spring.
You know, I think mythology is one of the coolest things on Earth. I’m SUCH a huge fan of stories that reference Greek mythology, whether as wholeheartedly as Percy Jackson or more subtly like, well, EVERYTHING ELSE EVER WRITTEN. It’s just everywhere, and I love it. 🙂
T-minus 9 days to the Writer’s Digest Conference 2012 in New York City, from which I’ll be blogging from January 20th through the 22nd!! (That nerdy I’m-so-excited-I’m-about-to-pee-my-pants-and-die-from-choking-on-my-gum face up there only about half describes how extremely psyched I am to be attending the conference!)
Just wondering, is there anything you’d all like to see in future Wordy Wednesdays? More short stories, songs, or novel excerpts? Some poetry or memoirs or writing tips? Let me know in the comments!
Thanks for reading!