The prophecy demanded…
Tim had been staring at those words on the page, certain that they were his gateway into a tale of adventure and mystery. He had written them without knowing where they would take him, and it seems, they took him nowhere. The cat on his lap purred with contentment, unaware of the treasures and romances possible in a world beyond its own humming. But the insistence of the story remained.
The narrative demanded a large oak tree, planted with humour nearly eighty years ago. The branches of which were reaching from its core to the horizon in each direction. It was a magnificent specimen and it stood powerfully in the middle of the raven’s field. Each leaf it dropped held the secrets of the universe, the veins which delicately ran through each started with exuberance, before crumbling into dust. The oak’s bark was rough from age and weariness; its smoothness lost to a time before the cat ever knew. Beneath its canopy two lovers met, the boy and the boy, whose tenderness would make even the old tree blush – which is indeed how the oak believed its autumn leaves were made.
The purring continued, the prophecy still unknown and unfulfilled. Yet the tyre swing which hung from the boughs of that great oak tree was not empty. She, with the dandelion, allowed herself to drift in the breeze. She held the delicate weed in front of her face and blew. It was a simple act of power; the girl with none became master of that flower’s fate. Its spores were carried about the field – she was not aware that the seeds would grow. They would flower and drop their seed, and then they would flower and drop their seed. The filtered sunlight hit her shoes; she dropped from the swing and walked melancholic through the long grass which bent under her feet, before springing back to its eternal dance.
The cat turned in Tim’s lap, a constant companion in the story that was not its own, unless… the simple conjunction passed through the writer’s mind. It tumbled once, and then twice and then he wondered how a simple, conditional ‘if’, might take the cat from the lap to the land… The cat stalked through the field; he did not know it belonged to the raven. He kept low and he was deliberate in his mission. He sought the sun; he did not seek adventure. As he purred towards the side of the field closest to the wheat crop, the two staves, crossed over and wearing an old flannel shirt, became his clear intention. The scarecrow’s hat flopped over its face, and it resided over a warm pile of dirt. The cat moved without hesitation to the base of the cross, curled about it once and went to sleep.
Tim could only imagine the simplicity of the cat’s life, and knew he needed his own simple joy. He moved from his screen to the kitchen, taking the time to stretch his legs and fill up his oversized coffee cup. As the jug boiled, and the cat weaved between his feet, he was struck with the overwhelming question: where was the raven?
With a sense of urgency, he returned to the screen, cup poised between his lips and the keyboard. He looked to the sky; not wanting to find cotton wool clouds or a bright blue abyss. Instead, he saw twilight stretching out and casting the oak tree in a golden hue. Its leaves shimmered in the last of the day’s light and there it was. The raven sat upon its nest, not too far from the ground; giving time to its pale blue speckled eggs. Its plumage was dark, and the only part of it which moved was its eye. The warmth of Tim’s coffee allowing him to imagine the warmth of that dark bird’s heart.
As the cat returned to Tim’s lap, the picture of the field felt complete, and the prophecy that demanded was lost to fiction, much like the trunk of gold sovereigns which was buried beneath that old oak tree.
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Not sure this was my best piece, but I did enjoy the play between the real and the imagined, and perhaps blurring the lines as the cat entered the setting. If you'd like to get onto this week's #theinkwell prompt, you can grab the prompt post here: https://peakd.com/hive-170798/@theinkwell/the-ink-well-prompt-74-plus-weekly-challenge-and-prize-announcement
I read your stories, and I often need to go back and check if I’m reading YOU , because your styles are so diverse. Most of us “ordinary humans” have a set style. But you write “In the style of the tale”, it’s as if the characters demand their own words and you supply them.
Personally, I think this story is one of your best. I don’t say it is your best, because so many of them are outstandingly brilliant.
This is beautifully written, clever and mesmerising, I honestly gasped at various points because your word-imagery cut so deeply.
🤗❤️💕💓🙃💕🙃💓💓❤️🙃❤️🤗💓💓🙃❤️🙃
My stylish friend; this was such a lovely compliment to receive from you. In truth though, this piece played with metatextuality - and was really just me having a moment of writer's block, having gathered my first line I was intent to introduce a prophecy into this piece, and I couldn't find where to go. I had my cat sitting on my lap, I went to the kitchen to get a coffee, I realised I overlooked the raven in the piece. I even called the writer Tim!
In regards to style, I actually do have a hot tip that I live by when I've been writing, and it's the same thing I drill into my students. - It's simply this, 'Don't write a story, just capture a moment in time'. One of the things I always do is slow down the description in my pieces, and frequently, nothing actually builds in a series of events, the word limit wouldn't allow it. Or, I think of the pieces as being a character study - and find the quirks or the mundane to explore in them.
Fabulous, Tim! It seems that I am not the only person suffering from writer's block lately! lol ...but you craft and capture such an interesting moment in the life of a writer intent on making his voice heard in a specific way, and then succeeding, in a way he did not envisage or necessarily intend at the outset, but which he develops out of necessity...and the creative juices flow unabated. Very nicely done. You are always a joy to read. Still working on my submission... I plan to finish it tomorrow evening... cutting it fine I know haha.
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Heya Sam;
That writing block sucks, right? I love those days when you sit down and write gold; no effort, the story takes over, and you get lost in your own language, and delight at the words coming out. What a joy!
I guess sometimes you need that struggle, to experience the opposite in its fullest!
(What happened to your piece, refreshed your page a few times now).
My life off-chain has been so busy... you would not believe it. Schools broke up today... we have one more event tomorrow eve - my eldest's primary school leavers' dance... then I am free to write ...mostly... as of this afternoon, I am on leave til the end of July...just have to juggle school hols with writing... will be much easier and hopefully I can get back into the swing of it... now I have to make my story transcend 3 INK Well prompts lol... I will get there... and then once I do... I will be back! Thank you for continuing to check in on me Tim, I know I must sound like a stuck record by now... honestly I really really want to write... I need to get back to my 3 posts a week... I appreciate you...truly. !LUV !ALIVE !PIZZA
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Wow. I had to stay valued from the first line, trying to see what the content of the prophecy is and the supposed hide and seek strategies of the tyre and the cat and whatnot.
Nicely written I must say.
I got lost at some point but had to read again. You did a superb job.
Quite an interesting story you got here dear friend. It was nice reading through your work I love it.
Thjanks for sharing.
Thank you for your general comment that could have been left for any post and doesn't suggest you even read anything more than the title.
In this piece you place demands on the reader: Pay attention, or lose the thread.
This is not a linear story. We speak sometimes of authors weaving a tale. In this case you truly do weave. Around the tree, around the cat, around the raven's field. All from a cup of coffee, a writer's imagination and a computer screen.
This is as good an impression of the creative process as one is likely to read. Well done. Extremely unexprected (great!) use of the prompt.
Maybe not your best story...only you can decide...but surely a very, very good story.
Thank you for sharing with us. We appreciate that you not only engage with other authors in the community, but that you offer meaningful commentary on their stories.
Congratulations, @lordtimoty ! This story was chosen as one of the best of the week:
https://peakd.com/hive-170798/@theinkwell/the-ink-well-highlights-magazine-62
Even though you feel like it’s not your best story it’s definitely a good one and I’m glad you enjoyed writing it as I enjoyed reading it. Keep up the good work.
Brilliant!!! I half expected Tim to walk into the story to get his cat :)
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