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    Home » 2014 » December » 5 » Faery Harvest
    8:17 PM
    Faery Harvest

       The fae of the forest all gathered together to celebrate the upcoming fall harvest, the last pickings before the winter took over and killed off all of their plants and food supplies.

       

       There wasn’t much left by now, but there was still a little left, and they always felt that the little bit left at the end of the harvest was what made the biggest difference in the last few weeks of the winter season before their crops grew once again.

       

       This time, the teenagers of the fae went out, because they still had a lot of energy to spare from rarely going out and assisting in the harvest, as is the tradition. They went out with their groups of friends and sped through the forest, flying among the branches and bushes, picking things while they go by and throwing them in the baskets they had helped weaved a few weeks earlier.

       

       A few of the groups out searching for the remains of food carefully searched through the bushes and undergrowth to make sure they didn’t miss any food that was still good.

       

       By sunset that night, they had all returned with, to the surprise of the adults, full baskets of food. All the fae of the forest had been rationing out the food, but they were allowed to add some more food to the feast, much to everyone’s delight. After a month of searching and gathering, they were happy to have a surplus of food in store for the upcoming months.

       

       However, this wasn’t what the point of the harvest festival. The harvest festival was a gathering of all the fae so they could have a great gathering all together with feasting and festivities before they have to hole up within their homes to stay warm. They ate and danced, they played music and had a great time, which filled the forest with the softer and happy sounds of the celebration. It was the few times of union the fae had with one another, where they put aside their differences and treated each other with much kindness.

       

       The harvest festival was made not to celebrate the ending of fall, or simply be a gathering of the creatures of the forest. But the harvest festival was meant to be a time of peace and a time with no conflict among the different groups that existed withing the forest.

     

     

        Echo is a well known nymph, thought Clytie, more so than I. She exists everywhere. There are songs written about her, a sonnet featuring her, even little children understand who she is and call out to her.

       

        On the other hand, I’m known, but I’m very rarely acknowledged. I’m just a sunflower. People find me interesting, but they don’t always care enough to think about me constantly or write songs about me or call out to me.

       

        She sighed, still staring at Apollo, the most unattainable thing she ever had in her life.

       

        We’re even similar, she thought, her face slowly moving more with the Sun’s speed. We both were turned into nearly insignificant things over men, although mine wasn’t an actual punishment, but more like self tortured. She scoffed at herself and rolled her eyes. I never knew not having this person come outside and take care of me by noon would make me so poetic.

       

        Echo thought of Clytie, often. Clytie was lucky, she thought, to be more easily noticed. Unless she is in the right spot to notice my presence, she won’t know that I’m near her. But we were both rejected by the one we loved, and this is what came of it.

       

        Echo let out a soundless sigh. She was still the most beautiful nymph, like she had boasted before, but people couldn’t see her, and even when she was called on, she could never hold a conversation again. She had grown humble and was no longer gossiping about others, especially the gods.

       

         I believe there are stories or something along those lines that mortals tell one another that involve me, she thought, but Clytie is never truly alone as I am. She is admired by all for her beauty. I can only picture the days back when I gossiped often that I was admired for my own beauty.

       

       The two nymphs sighed, feeling worlds apart from everyone around them, watching the world change as grow as they could no longer communicate with it and question things more. The two gazed at the sky, watching the Sun, being reminded of the ones they had once loved. In moments like these, the two were more alike each other than they would ever know.

    Category: Short Stories | Views: 52 | Added by: Wolf | Tags: FALL, nanowrimo, myths, myth story, Fantasy | Rating: 0.0/0
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