Ideas of Mine · Ink-Stained Frustrations · Tales · The World of the Four Gods · Writing Prompt Creations

WPR 20 – Part 2 – An Opportunity

*Author’s note: This is a 2 part response. If you have yet to, please read part 1.

 

The spiritual ache of stretching to his astral projecting limits would have been hard to describe to someone who had never experienced it. It was a hollow ache in the chest or stomach, much like that of someone missing something, but not sure what. It was the feeling of being incomplete, not because a person was out of their lives, but because something they are meant to be doing, or being, was gone. The feeling of not being completely happy, wanting more, feeling lost, knowing life is not right, but unclear on how to fix it. Perhaps, he was attributing more feeling to the spiritual ache than was the truth.

At least the ache of barely reaching the mountains was finally fading after a week  of avoiding the astral plane. He was finally feeling normal, and beginning to experience enjoyment in the day to day bustle of village life. Even during the winter, life was busy, constant clearing of snow, keeping fires going, and the challenge of doing daily things in the cold, wearing mittens, or daring the chill of the air.

It was one of these bright sunny days, a week after his astral adventures, when winter had announced its arrival by dumping a thick layer of snow on the entire village, covering the frosted mosses. The sunlight sparkled off the fresh snow, warming little, and melting nothing, as he trudged through the village tents carrying firewood. It was only when the villagers hushed, that he even noticed the visitor.

Although, they had never actually spoken, he knew who she was. She sat upon a regal moose, which stood in among tents, surprisingly close to him. The antlers of the moose were draped with coloured cords, wound with jingling bells, and clattering wooden and bone charms carved with intricate symbols. Her hair was decorated to match the moose, and frosted lightly, framing her familiar face. It was the face that had smirked at him, before skimming over the mountain, leaving him desperately straining to follow. The ghost of that smirk was there again, telling him that she recognised him.

Now she spoke directly to him, her words igniting the old ache.

“Would you like to see the world?”

He stared as if she had offered him imperium over the trunda tribes.

“How?” he said, his voice surprising him in its volume.

“I will teach you to fly.”

How could he refuse?

 

Although they had never actually spoken, he knew who she was.

He knew her – Promptuarium

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