Beneath the Eye of the Willow

As a member of quite a few writing groups on Facebook, writing prompts are easy to come by and readily available.  Tonight I asked for one outright. I wanted something fresh and new, untainted by the dirty hands of another writer.

I was given "Beneath the eye of the willow..."  Brings to mind peaceful images such as this, no?

Yeah. Not so much for me. This was the visual I was gifted:

I have come to the conclusion that I need intense therapy. There is obviously something very wrong with my thinker.


Anyway, I rarely sit and do random writing exercises. I write with the intention of finishing a project, or at least making relevant progress on one. Or two. Tonight I flexed the writing muscles until I became quite frustrated and irritated with myself. First, because I don't typically write fantasy pieces but decided to boldly attempt my hand, and secondly, I had no idea where I was heading or why. First official case of writer's block I've experienced, and it was self induced. Ugh.

Here's the unfinished story as it stands on my computer. I invite you all to add to it, alter it, finish it, ball it up and throw it away, whatever. I will post anything sent with appropriate credits, but as this is a new and, thus far, widely unknown blog, don't hold your breath. If I revisit this and pull together anything remotely worthy, I will use it as a stand alone post.

I feel you've all been properly warned, so here goes nothing....


In the Land of Thorns, willow trees are the harborer of souls. When the D’wier folk pass, they sleep soundly within the belly of the willow until a new host body is freed and able to inhibit. Long are not the hours or days that pass before a soul is refreshed and released, for the D’wier are a dainty and fragile species.
   
Elirdia wore a mask of heavy human skin, a gift from the tribe elder. The mask, the shield of a contorted grimace, was pockmarked from an adolescence riddled with acne. It would ensnare her twin flame as day faded into night.

The D’wier drifted across the planes often to the village of human remains. They were unallowed on the surface of existence. They dwelled between the realm of the dead and the living, but were occasioned the gift of flesh so long as it were not properly buried under rites. Lately, war had brought in many casualties that were left behind in open graves as soldiers marched forward, and the D’wier were rewarded with the human flesh that would protect their fragile bodies from the elements as they cared for the willow trees, they're sole purpose for existence.

Eliridia, just having breached childhood, was in the throws of the ritual that would bring forth her twin flame. All suitors would have to prove their worth to the tribe elder, and all would have to participate in the ritual, but only one could be the victor. It was written in the stars long before the first breath of life.

The ritual began at dawn, and the day grew long and muggy as the danced. The tribe elder stood outside the circle of D’wier folk and tapped the old knotted branch of the willow to the beat of the drums. Eliridia was becoming heavy from fatigue, but her body was stroked by the gods– she would not fall until her twin flame was received.

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