I’m Going Home

New tradition for this reinvented blog. Each Sunday, I will share one writing prompt that moved me during the week, plus the result of that prompt.

For Week One, the prompt was essentially: “In this writing prompt imagine a story figuring around a main character or a group of main characters who live in or are building an unusual house for themselves. If you don’t feel like writing a whole narrative about why these characters have come to live in this house you can discard the characters and instead focus on providing details about the house.”

Now, I took things a little off track. I haven’t yet described the house where Princess Elixabeth lives, but rather I am working on the entire island where she lives. As I mentioned previously, I am not done. I got distracted by the what-ifs but it is called a work-in-progress, right? Remember, this was done as an interview question in the guise of getting to know Elixabeth.

DESCRIBE YOUR HOME:

green, old trees, light, birth, death, ancient, lush, dark, sacred, water, life, color, pine, safety, prison

I live in the Sacred Forest – the heart of the Summer Isles, although not literally. Visitors will see quite a bit of the above, yet nothing of the above. To the Mortals, the Summer Isles are known as the Outer Hebrides, with my home specifically being Eilean Shìophoirt, or Seaforth Island. My home is my prison now, but it is a lush and beautiful prison. Mortal eyes see only a forest, ancient and cruel.

The forest takes up most of the isle, with little room for the sandy shores of a beach upon which the Mortals leave their boats. In parts, the forest doesn’t stop until the waters edge, occasionally you will find trees growing out of the water. Those trees might be the most memorable sight – thousands and thousands of years old, thicker than the Mortal houses of my youth, tall as mountains. We are a small tribe here within the Summer Isles, perhaps a few thousand are left. My island seems all the more a prison because no one else is here with me, though once it supported more than ten thousand Immortals. The others have either relocated to a different island – the better to distance themselves from the fallen and exiled Princess, while others have joined the Mortals. Perhaps over the course of a few more generations, I will be the only Immortal left here, but I doubt it. I fervently hope not, at the very least. Regardless, those trees will be here long after the Immortals are gone. Sacred, majestic. The heart of the Summer Isles. Their limbs shelter us in storms, envelope us in our heartaches, and provide a place of rest when we grow weary.

I’ve heard the stories of the Mortals – we are primitive, we are ignorant, we live in trees. We live with the trees. We live amongst the trees. Our home is so much more than the Mortal eyes and brain can comprehend. Just trying to describe it for you is difficult. My apologies, though. I tend to get carried away when talking about home. We Fey are like that – home means so much to us. It’s our beacon in the storm, our heart. For some Fey, the very soul resides in home.

The ground is covered in the softest moss imaginable – it’s like a soft woolen blanket on a frigid, snowy night. Comfort surrounds you here, especially the further into the Forest you travel. The breeze carries with it the sweet scent of lavender and mint. The heart of the Sacred Forest has never been breached by outsiders, neither Mortals nor even other inhabitants of the Immortal Realms not of this tribe. This is our very heart, our very soul. The Sacred Circle where King Jamus and Queen Annen once held court lies in the heart of the Forest. As does the well hidden entrance to our home, the Summer Court.

Here, in the heart of my people, you will find death, and with it; rebirth. We do not shy away from the reality of death, we celebrate it as a part of the sacred cycle of life. The air might be what puts off the outsiders – centuries upon centuries of death can leave a certain muskiness to the air, after all. But is more than the air – light does not penetrate the trees easily so the Sacred Circle is darker, cast in shadows with the wind whispering through branches.

Yes, we have water. No, not just the salt water of the Ocean. There are over one hundred islands in the Summer Isles, though the Sacred Forest Isle is not the largest. Some are smaller, of course. Some have no fresh water above ground. Upon my island you will find babbling brooks to quickly quench your thirst, shallow pools good for a quick swim, or even larger pools good for catching your next meal. There are even  hot springs underground – each island has them, even the smallest. Fey lore has it our progenitor created them for his people. Only we know of their location because they are an integral part of our Court. The Court itself is also under the earth; down a long winding stair built of stone. The stone work is ancient – Mama once told me it has been here since the dawn of Summer. They are well-worn stairs, smooth after years of use and care. And such gorgeous colors – blues and reds; yellows and grays. Lilac, orange, cornflower, berry, gold.

Those stairs end at the marble Sun – symbol of the Summer Court. Polished and smooth, this is the one place where sun reaches through those ancient trees. That marble Sun was created with Faerie magicks, allowing it to reflect all the colors of the sun above ground – purples and blues and grays at dusk, golden warmth that caresses the halls during the day, and robust oranges and blood reds to welcome the sun again come the dawn. When the first Faerie King created the Immortal Realms, he knew we would need the sun so he created these marble Suns to reflect throughout our hallowed halls across each island. Though we moved underground by choice, we are creatures of light and air; we need the Sun to thrive.

*** This is what I have for now. It isn’t much, and I’ll come back to it, clean it up, flesh it out. That prompt plays an integral role in my WIP so we will definitely get back to the heart of the prompt!

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