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FOLKTALE WEEK 2021

PROMPT #3: AWAKENING

 

Grandfather sat down on the side of Marta’s bed.

“This is a tale of two best friends,” said Grandfather, “who believed in the harmony and balance of light. The Sun, a fiery red being with gladiator strength took care of the Earth and protected the people during the day. The Moon, with her mystic powers and golden hair, encouraged creatures of the night. Different, but both imperative roles. The Sun and the Moon lived this way from the beginning of time and maintained a consistency that allowed life on Earth to flourish.

One night, a demon appeared determined to find a place of its own in the sky. With no care for the balance of life on Earth, he attacked the Sun first. He speared and gnawed, hoping to upend the Sun’s position, but he was no match for the Sun’s fire and force. The demon quickly retreated, fleeing to the rocks and crevasses not easily reached by the daylight.


 

Artwork done in walnut ink, black ink, and Etchr gold pearlescent watercolors on Arches 140 lb watercolor paper.





 

It is said that when the pieces of the Moon split they did not land on the Earth. On the contrary, the particles grew beaks of glitter and wings of gold and are said to scour the Earth waiting for the next person worthy of the Moon’s magic.

Next, the demon hid until just before dawn, and then, as the darkness faded, he launched himself at the Moon. The Moon was surprised by the timing and viciousness of the attack. She fought but could not overpower the demon’s aggression. She screamed out for the Sun, but he was not close enough of a distance to hear and could not help her. As the fight went on, the Moon understood her fate. Instead of her power being used by the demon, she decided that her magic was best scattered across the land. Her delicate figure transformed and her golden hair broke into a million pieces disbursing in the air.

When the Sun rose and saw what had happened to his best friend his fire raged. “If Moon is gone, there will be no one in the night sky,” he said. He struck down the demon and the blackness of night as we know it began.

It is said that when the pieces of the Moon split they did not land on the Earth. On the contrary, the particles grew beaks of glitter and wings of gold and are said to scour the Earth waiting for the next person worthy of the Moon’s magic.



  • Danielle

FOLKTALE WEEK 2021

PROMPT #2: DREAM

 

The water rippled into a thousand small staircases. Marta grabbed her hand from the night ocean and inspected it. Droplets had started to drip down her arm and left a glowing remanence on her skin. She watched the droplets amazed as they traveled down her arm and off her elbow onto the sand.

Sand engulfed her feet swallowing them at the edges. And as she stepped away from the black water she felt a deep breath of air hit her shoulders. Frozen in place, she waited. The rhythm of the air was not the wind. Although it did not appear to Marta as if it belonged to a human. For no human would have that type of gusto or control. When she turned, the fabric of Marta's dress moved swiftly and she saw the owner of the breath. It was a bird the height of her house with a wingspan so long it dissipated into the night sky.


 

Marta dreams of a large bird with a beak of glitter and feathers of gold. Artwork done in walnut ink, black ink, and Etchr gold pearlescent watercolors on Arches 140 lb watercolor paper.

 

The water rippled into a thousand small staircases. Marta grabbed her hand from the night ocean and inspected it. Droplets had started to drip down her arm and left a glowing remanence on her skin.

“With beaks of glitter and feathers of gold…” said Marta. Her hands dropped to her side as she desperately tried to remember any other details from the stories. Why had she not paid more attention to Grandfather?

As if understanding her thoughts, the large bird’s head cocked to one side and his eyes narrowed. His left wing swung up to attention and then abruptly stopped at her right shoulder. What the bird did next she did not expect. He opened up his beak to the sky and let out a deafening screech to the heavens. The force was too much for Marta’s tiny body and she stumbled back again into the water. Her back hit the water first, but her eyes remained fixated on the bird as her face submerged.

“Wake up child!” said Grandfather, “you were dreaming.” Marta sat up in the bed alert of her surroundings. She ran her hands over her arms and looked for any signs of the glowing streaks of water, but they did not exist. She patted her head to feel her wet hair, but it was dry. Below her, the pillow crinkled and she reached back to find a long feather.

“These birds you talk about,” she said. “I want to know everything.”



  • Danielle

FOLKTALE WEEK 2021

PROMPT #1: MOON

 

From what Marta could tell, there was no point in arguing about the absence of the light in the night sky. The Gods had made their choice about the light source in the finite hours and had clearly favored the day.


The adults in this small island town, however, continued to discuss the black night and its potential. Stories about a thing they called the Great Moon were told once a year at the Luna Festival to anyone that would listen. Stories of rhythm, repetition, and all of the things that flourished under its care.


 


Marta listens to her grandfather tell a story about the Great Moon. Artwork done in walnut ink, black ink, and Etchr gold pearlescent watercolors on Arches 140 lb watercolor paper.

Marta smirked and postulated. “These stories,” she said to her grandfather, “what is the point? They will never come true. Even if there was a large star in the sky at one point in time it is gone. Lost forever.”
 

“Magical birds,” they would say, “with beaks of glitter and feathers of gold.” After decades of a desolate night sky the tales aged into evanescent stories told once a year. They became stories of the ages marked as fables. No one, not in this lifetime or the one before, had ever seen the Great Moon.


Marta smirked and postulated. “These stories,” she said to her grandfather, “what is the point? They will never come true. Even if there was a large star in the sky at one point in time it is gone. Lost forever.”


“Sometimes hope is the only thing we have,” said Grandfather, “The Great Moon provided light during the night and consistent movement in the water – a true sign that we are all connected. One day I will explain more. But for now, let us go.”


Marta and her grandfather walked to the edge of the sea and disappeared into a house that blended into the darkness.


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