MilksopApr 05, 2020Apr 05, 2020 at 05:17 AM
#1
The sharp pounding of her head rousing her from her momentary stupor, Estre blearily opened her eyes to find the expansive branches of oak trees shading the dried-up ravine in which she'd tumbled into. Hoofbeats against the forest floor growing increasingly distant until she could no longer hear her elk mount anywhere in her vicinity, she clenched her eyes shut. How was it that a hare was able to frighten a fully-grown male elk enough into a bucking frenzy by simple darting across their path? A question that would remain unanswered, certainly. Opening her eyes once more, it seemed that the forest had changed into a smear of earthy colors all around her. Groaning quietly at the nauseating blur, her eyelids fluttered before coming to a close.
She wasn't sure how much time had passed, long enough in that the next time she woke, she found herself at home in her garden. This wasn't right, in more ways than one. The brilliant purple of the wisteria was washed out, faded, as was much of her scenery. She soon found that focusing on any particular part of the garden was nearly impossible, a watercolor like haze distorting any familiar parts into vaguely recognizable shapes. Slowly walking past the fountain, or at least what she thought was the fountain, she spotted a figure standing beneath the blurred, blossoming gingko tree in which she had often spent many an afternoon reading beneath both as a child and as an adult. Anger quickly welled within her at the intruder's presence, an anger that only grew as she approached the figure with an increasing urgency. Hands balled into fists, she parted her lips in preparation to spew frenzied words of vexation. Frenzied words that amounted to nothing more than silence on her end, a silence that was soon broken with the sound of clear, feminine laughter.
As if ignorant to Estre gaping at her only a few steps away, the hazy figure adjusted a fussy infant in her arms. "I get it, I get it, you're not a fan of my singing," she snickered. "Maybe this will be what encourages you to take up singing. What else am I terrible at … Cooking, I know you'll be a better cook than I am. But that's not saying much, now is it? I definitely won't be the type of mother that has homemade baked goods waiting for you after your lessons. That's more of your dad's thing. Er," lowering her voice, "your dad-dad, not Fiore," the name spoken with an unmistakable bitterness. "Piece of shhhhhhhoelace. Shoelace. I'd rather shoelace be your first word than the other one."
Wide-eyed, Estre stayed frozen in place. A vaguely familiar warmth washing over her, tears slowly began to trail down her freckled cheeks.
"Anyways, I guess what I'm getting at here is that I'm excited to see what kind of person you grow up to be. Singer, cook, and anything and everything in-between. You are capable of such extraordinary things, you don't even know! You have my courage and kindness to guide you. These traits will serve you well in your lifetime just as long as you remain true to yourself. I did, and look what I got-- you."
Awakening with a start, the elk looming above her back-pedaled with a vague sound of concern. Breathing heavily, her dull aches and pains reacquainted her with the reality of her situation. The memory? Hallucination? Whatever it was. It seemed so distant now, but not distant enough in that she mumbled the words of her mother under her breath.
"... Courage and kindness."
She wasn't sure how much time had passed, long enough in that the next time she woke, she found herself at home in her garden. This wasn't right, in more ways than one. The brilliant purple of the wisteria was washed out, faded, as was much of her scenery. She soon found that focusing on any particular part of the garden was nearly impossible, a watercolor like haze distorting any familiar parts into vaguely recognizable shapes. Slowly walking past the fountain, or at least what she thought was the fountain, she spotted a figure standing beneath the blurred, blossoming gingko tree in which she had often spent many an afternoon reading beneath both as a child and as an adult. Anger quickly welled within her at the intruder's presence, an anger that only grew as she approached the figure with an increasing urgency. Hands balled into fists, she parted her lips in preparation to spew frenzied words of vexation. Frenzied words that amounted to nothing more than silence on her end, a silence that was soon broken with the sound of clear, feminine laughter.
As if ignorant to Estre gaping at her only a few steps away, the hazy figure adjusted a fussy infant in her arms. "I get it, I get it, you're not a fan of my singing," she snickered. "Maybe this will be what encourages you to take up singing. What else am I terrible at … Cooking, I know you'll be a better cook than I am. But that's not saying much, now is it? I definitely won't be the type of mother that has homemade baked goods waiting for you after your lessons. That's more of your dad's thing. Er," lowering her voice, "your dad-dad, not Fiore," the name spoken with an unmistakable bitterness. "Piece of shhhhhhhoelace. Shoelace. I'd rather shoelace be your first word than the other one."
Wide-eyed, Estre stayed frozen in place. A vaguely familiar warmth washing over her, tears slowly began to trail down her freckled cheeks.
"Anyways, I guess what I'm getting at here is that I'm excited to see what kind of person you grow up to be. Singer, cook, and anything and everything in-between. You are capable of such extraordinary things, you don't even know! You have my courage and kindness to guide you. These traits will serve you well in your lifetime just as long as you remain true to yourself. I did, and look what I got-- you."
Awakening with a start, the elk looming above her back-pedaled with a vague sound of concern. Breathing heavily, her dull aches and pains reacquainted her with the reality of her situation. The memory? Hallucination? Whatever it was. It seemed so distant now, but not distant enough in that she mumbled the words of her mother under her breath.
"... Courage and kindness."