Monday, July 16, 2018

The Tree's Levitate Violet During her Thousandth Year of Slumber

Here is a new illustration I made called 'The Tree's Levitate Violet During her Thousandth Year of Slumber. 


Violet wandered into the woods on the eve of her 21st birthday. She was summoned by a feeling in her heart. When she got to the edge of the woods, she saw something glowing near the lake. She walked toward it, tentatively yet still purposefully. The closer she got, the quicker the glowing object flickered and the stronger it glimmered. She could hear it, ringing and murmuring sounds that were almost words. Just as she was about to touch it, she tripped and plummeted downward, landing with a splash in a river. She flailed her arms, trying to grab onto something. But the river was too strong. She was sucked under the rippling current and pulled rapidly away from everything she had once known.

Eventually, she washed ashore with her eyes closed, her breath barely emanating from her partially opened mouth. She had been found by The Society of Secret Keepers, an ancient order of monks and monkresses that lived deep in the woods. The batch of golden sand where Violet had washed ashore was magical. It attracted those who were bewitched, cursed, magical or mythical. The Society of Secret Keepers purposely built their monastery near that very patch of sand so they could collect the fallen beasts, creatures and humans that found themselves upon that patch. The monks and monkresses rotated responsibility for watching the patch of sand, so it was never not watched.

When Violet was washed ashore, the monk on duty scooped her up and brought her back to the monastery's boarding room. In the boarding room were hundreds of occupied beds, each occupant had their eyes closed and each occupant was sleeping deeply. It was not just humans that slept in the beds, but creatures. There were monsters, trolls, fairies and even a unicorn.

Another duty of the monks was to tend to the sleeping patients. The monks and monkresses came to the bedsides and patted foreheads. They tilted open mouths and spooned into porridge or soup or berries. They read the sleeping patients books. They sung them songs. They comforted them when they stirred with distress and moaned names of those they once loved.

Once a year, one of the patients foreheads would begin to glow. Sometimes, the entire surface of the forehead would glow, sometimes a shape would appear and glow. Whenever a forehead glowed, The Society of Secret Keepers knew that that person (or creature) was the chosen one. They would dress the chosen one in the finest of white linen. Sometimes they would drape them with wreaths of flowers or feathers. Then, they'd carry the chosen one into the woods. The Society of Secret Keepers could feel the trees rumbling even before they set the chosen one down. There was eagerness electrifying their bark. The Society of Secret Keepers was not to linger. They were not to wonder or observe. They were to leave the chosen one in the woods and then return to the monastery. They didn't really know what happened, but sometimes they'd see the trees start growing their arms, sometimes they'd see the trees open their orb eyes.

It was a thousand years before Violet's forehead glowed. Her family had grown old and died. The first monks and monkresses who had cared for her had long perished. The world was different but the same.

She was left in the forest like all the other chosen ones. She was still deeply sleeping. But the wind started to stir her awake. The sound of the chanting trees pierced her deep dreams. She could feel herself levitating. If only she could open her eyes. It had been a thousand years since she opened her eyes and the lids just felt so heavy and underused. Maybe, she would just keep sleeping forever. Maybe, she'd pretend her life was just a dream. Maybe, she'd never know what would happen next. 

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