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Chapter 15 - Willow

Okay, so, the other day I was thinking (scary, huh?). I have no way to share my short stories other than creating a story thing for each. why not just have one whole 'story' for short stories? so, here we are. Just Because.

Chapter 15 - Willow

Chapter 15 - Willow
Willow

There is a story, a legend really, handed down from generation to generation, about a young couple who were, of course, in love. No, this is not a cliche story, nor is this a story about princesses or princes, castles or dragons. This is not a fairy tale where there are 'good guys' and 'bad guys'; this is not a story where there is a lesson to be had. This is merely a simple tale of love; a simple tale of steadfast trust.

This is a tale any woman can tell their children, for there is nothing dangerous in the telling. Women wish for a man as is in the tale, and women wish their men were as the one in the tale.

This legend is merely called, 'The Willow Tree'.

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Once, long ago, there was a young man of a lineage that was really nothing special, nothing of note. He was a homely man, neither poor nor wealthy, who lived in a house he built himself, living on food he caught and gathered himself. He was a simple man who had no wife or betrothed. He did not live in the village, as one would expect. He lived on the outskirts of the village, for he did not feel comfortable living in closed quarters. Though he was a handsome young man, there were no women fawning after him, nor was there any woman he was courting. He spent his days in his carpentry workshop, fixing and building anything the villagers asked.

In the village itself, there were many women who were much the same, as they had been raised the same way. The villagers all held the same ideals and morals, what was proper and what was not. Of course, there will always be a time when what was proper goes against someone's views in some way.

This happened when a traveling carnival troupe came through the village on their way to the city. Having the day off, everyone in the village came to the carnival; even the man living on the outskirts of town came to the carnival. Like every carnival, there were freaks on display, fortune tellers, jugglers, a house of horror, a house of mirrors, everything the heart could desire. The carnival master was like most would expect, large and happy, as if there was nothing in the world but his carnival. Of course, to him, that was true.

The carnival master saw the young man come alone, and he befriended the young man. Then again, like all stories, this one has its twist. The carnival master had a daughter, and she was lovely. You can imagine, naturally, that the young man and the daughter met and fell in love. It was not instant, not love at first sight, as so many would have you believe. They spent time together, talked about things they liked and didn't like, and eventually, their love bloomed. They wished to wed in the spring among the white apple blossoms.

Both the village elder and the carnival master were against it, for mostly the same reason. The carnival would be moving on and the daughter had to go with them; she was from a much different walk of life, and the villagers believed the young man was only in love with her because she was different from what he had known all his life.

So they ran; cliche, expected, and because of that, they were caught. The carnival left with all their members, and the young man returned to his work. Before the carnival, his work was excellent; not perfect, but very near. After the carnival had departed, taking with it the only woman he had ever loved, his work became shoddy at best. His carpentry was never the same.

One day, he went out and sat atop a hill overlooking the south road, the road to the city. He imagined the carnival daughter sitting beside him, and he laid back on her imagined lap. Her graceful fingertips graced his forehead, the cold touch soothing him. His eyes rested on her beautiful hair, shining in the sun.

And, as if by magic, she was there, smiling down on him. She began to massage his temples, soothing him into the most restful sleep he has had before or since.

When he woke, where once the carnival daughter had been, a graceful willow tree had somehow sprouted in her place, the weeping branches gracing his cheeks as if the tree could feel his melancholy and was crying for him. The daughter was gone, and all trace of her had vanished.

But, somehow, he knew she was still there, her spirit, at least, inside the willow tree.

Years later, he discovered the young woman had committed suicide when her father learned she was carrying the young man's child. By his calculations, it was the same day the willow had sprouted, and he knew that the carnival daughter had never left him, even after death.




Author's note: First draft, so any suggestions or corrections would be happily taken and reviewed so that i can revise this. After all, i finished this at 12:30 in the morning^_________^' yeah, i'm going to bed now....

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