In which a scribe is named.

The first Wordsmith story.

In which a scribe is named.

A man walked through the forest with a satchel full of paper and quills. He came upon a tree blackened by lighting, a huge chrysalis hung from a branch. He sat watching it, very shortly it began to open. A woman fell from it. The man helped her to her feet. When he looked into her eyes he bowed his head, because the lightning that was her father lived in them.
With a voice that boomed of thunder she spoke. "You shall be the Wordsmith. And we will walk into hell."
He raised his head and replied "You are the Stormchild, and I will be honored for the company."
He watched her stare at her fingers and sparks came from them. "What kind of woman are you?" asked the newly named Wordsmith as he watched lightning dance across her skin.
She laughed at him saying,
"Silly mortal, I am any woman who has ever walked in the rain; any man who was lost in the forest. And I am any bird who braved the storm."
He lived in the forest with his friend for a few seasons. Then returning to the human's world.
Years turned to decades before he could return to the forest where the young goddess lived. But he did return, needing the peace of being alone. But peace as always came to an end...

Reviews

[barleygirl]

Nicely imaginative & visual, with good personification of the muse. "You shall be the wordsmith" . . . I love this line . . . it kinda shows us the way writers feel "appointed" to the task . . . even unwilling, we are driven to craft words! Thanks for sharing this playful view of the writing urge!

[aLittlePain]

Very cool! Interesting and rich in just a few words. She's intriguing, as is stormchild but the way you painted her is very alluring. Regards Ray

[D Connolly]

How interesting! I love the characters already!