September Mini Contest

Finally, Echo decided to try and embrace him, only to have Narcissus reject her, so she had fled and hidden. While she pined for him, Echo’s body wasted away, whilst by the pool Narcissus refused to drink or eat, and spent his final breath whispering love to his reflection in the pool of water.

Nora closed the book with a sigh. She lived in the village that had been created in Echo’s name, which happened to be a short distance from the pool where Narcissus had supposedly lain. Although Nora was only seven, she already longed to leave her home and discover the world. Of course, in her small town such a thought was forbidden. You were to live your life as you were told, and then, from the age of sixteen devote your entire being to the memory of Echo and Narcissus.

She got to her feet and left her cosy little cottage to observe the villagers outside. Women were in their backyards washing their linen whilst some of the smaller children were in the village garden planting seeds in hope of fresh fruits and vegetables in spring. Men were returning from the forest with slaughtered animals slung over their shoulders, and a few of the older kids were setting the table ahead of the communal dinner.

Nora slipped silently away from the crowd and made her way to the pool where Narcissus had for so long gazed at his reflection with self love. She knew the area was restricted for village elders but she couldn’t help herself watching the shimmering water as it rippled slightly every time the wind shifted. She gazed deeply into the pool, admiring the reflection of the looming trees, and whilst the sun had gone to hide in the cloud cover, the summer air moved around her, warming her body. Her chestnut hair fell longer than her shoulders and her green eyes sparkled. It was the perfect moment when, suddenly, a gruff voice shattered the gentle silence.

“What are you doing by my pool?” Nora swivelled to face an incredibly handsome man. She didn’t know it, but her life was about to change, because she was standing face to face with the legendary Narcissus.

 “As far as you’re concerned.”

This was starting to be unsettling. “I wish you’d be serious. I have a job here.”

“You certainly do.” The boy grabbed her hand and pulled her inside, down a hall and into a kitchen. A woman stood at the sink washing glass bottles.

“Are you Mrs. Harris?”

The woman smiled sweetly. “You must be Gemma. No, we made her up.”

“You what?” Gemma tried to jerk away, anxious to leave this strange house and stranger situation. But the boy was still holding onto her hand with a tight grip.

The woman tilted her head toward him. “This is Gladiolus, my nephew. And apprentice. We’ve been terribly busy lately – surplus of demand – hence the advertisement. I’m the Purveyor of Practical Magicks for the Aqueous Caravan, Reasonably Priced. But you can call me Aunt Isadora.”

Gemma stared. “I – I don’t think –”

“Oh!” Gladiolus pointed to a clock hanging on the wall. “It’s time!”

“You’re right,” his aunt agreed. She picked up a satchel and began to pack the bottles inside. “Take Gemma with you.”

Gladiolus took the satchel and pulled Gemma back down the hall and out the door. They hurried down a dirt path that branched off from the yard.

“Let me go,” Gemma panted, trying unsuccessfully to extricate her hand from Gladiolus’s. “This is ridiculous. Magic isn’t real!”

“Oh, no?” The boy stopped at a short, ivy-covered stone fence. It enclosed a small round pool, the water unusually dark blue. “Explain dragons.”

“They don’t exist.”

Gladiolus looked at her strangely. “You really think that?”

“Of course.”

They stared at each other for a moment, before Gladiolus shrugged and climbed over the wall, finally letting Gemma go. “Help me fill these bottles up.”

Gemma rolled her eyes and began to stomp away.

A ruby-colored dragon dropped out of the sky in front of her.

“What are you doing at my pool?” he hissed, flames flickering around his nostrils.

“Oh, good grief,” sighed Gladiolus. “Again? We’ve been over this. We have a deal. We pay you rent.”

The dragon paused, looking as foolish as an elephant-sized dragon can. “Harrumph!” he grumbled. “In that case…” Then he turned and flew back into the sky.

“Well?” asked Gladiolus. “Do you believe in magic now?”

Gemma stared up at the tiny red speck of the dragon. “This,” she said slowly, “is going to be a very interesting job.”

They all left her alone, mainly talking about her behind her back, until one day someone decided to change that.

The little child timidly crept towards Jane, who crouched by the pool that morning. “Loon-Miss Jane,” he thought it wise not to offend her before receiving his answer, “a few friends and I were wondering why you sit there without jumping in like the rest of the adults.”

The girl smiled and beckoned for the child to come closer. “Look, what do you see?”

“Water.” The child frowned. What was so remarkable about water?

“Nothing else?”

“Well, I see the sky. And…and the tops of the trees!” Wonder crept into the child’s voice. “Oh, they’re like a painting!”

Jane clapped with joy, “Yes! Exactly. Aren’t they beautiful?”

The child cocked his head. “Don’t we see them every day, though?”

“Well of course, but we often forget they’re there. We forget how beautiful they are. This pool may hold riches for others, but those are temporary. I’d much rather use it as a mirror, to see what I already have. What many of us grown-ups have forgotten to see. There’s still beauty in this world, no matter how cruel it may be. Sometimes, the water even shows us the world in a different light.”

“I see.” The child’s eyes brightened.

Jane smiled. She knew that children often saw things that adults overlooked.

“Can I…can I stay a little more?” The child asked gingerly.

Jane nodded. “Of course.”

She scooched over and made a cozy spot for the child who sat and peered into the clear water. The child was the first of many to begin to see more clearly. I can testify that no one laughs at Jane Greene any longer.

She traversed through the foliage and into the heart of the forest where she found the thatched cottage that had been their meeting place for the last month. In the backyard of the rundown cottage was the pool. Perfectly round, unnaturally so and about two metres deep. This pool connected every spring and river in the kingdom. Liria searched the surface.
“Tassa? It’s me. Are you there?” she whispered. The water bubbled gently like a pot on a stove. Within seconds Tassa emerges. A girl, made completely out of waves of water. The lights sifting through the trees turned her into a rainbow of reflecting colours as they did with all Nyads.
“Did you bring it?” Sweet excitement filled her voice. Liria rummaged through her bag and retrieved the book. It was ancient, older than the castle and those within it, its leather covers thin with age, but to Tassa and Liria it was a treasure of unspeakable worth. This book contained the history of both their people. A history lost long ago.
Holding herself together Tassa asked, “Would you please read it to me?”
“Of course.” Liria smiled.

And so it began, Liria would trek through the forest everyday and read to Tassa. Together they learnt of both Magicfolk and humans, of The Forgotten War they fought against one another and the eventual separation. On the last day, when there was one page left, Liria noticed the yellowed sheets of parchment stuffed at the back of the book. Curious, Tassa asked what they were. As Liria read the scrolls true nature was unveiled. They spoke of a promise, a small sweet promise of peace, of a future where the constant fear would cease.

Now dear one you must be wondering how this peace would come about. How two warring races could be united under one flag, one name? Well the truth is it took two people, two people kind and wise, two people who understood each other for who they truly were.
How did they bring peace, you say?
Not with swords, nor with arrows or spears.
Instead they fought with their hearts.
The greatest tool for a future of peace is kindness.
And that future is now.