I wasn’t tagged for this, but saw @memento-morri-writes ‘s post, which gave the word SKUNK, and decided to hop in!
I admit that most of these sentences don’t actually begin with the letter in question. I tried my best 😅
Sequoia was quiet. She stayed that way for a long time. When she looked up, Cedar was ready for her; She met her gaze unwaveringly, and the two cousins made intense eye contact, then, communicating what could never be said through words. All Cedar could think about, in that moment, was the red around the other girl’s eyes, the chunks missing from her hair. The animalistic nature in her eyes, as if she were being hunted. She looked gentle, in that moment, harmless. It was a word that should never have been ascribed to Sequoia, something that Cedar would never have thought she would become, and yet she was, at least right then. Was there ever any coming back from that, Cedar wondered? Had she, herself, fallen victim to the same fate? Was that something innate about her? Or was gentle something that was forced upon a person?
She knew that it would become more and more difficult to explain her absences over time, but she wanted more than anything to be somewhere that wasn’t the manor, somewhere where she could just be, without conscious thought. So she let the time pass, and left the matter of her return for the Cedar who was to make it.
A dazzling crystal chair that was, if her experiences with the rest of the tower applied, certainly more comfortable than it looked, had slid over to her. She remained on the floor. A plate of brilliant strawberries that shone like rubies rose out of it.
“Surely, if you can do all of this, you can help me find what I’m looking for,” she muttered.
The wall opposite her showed a few lines that curved like ocean waves, parallel to one another, before curling outwards. A carving of a hand reached out to poke the lines, and they vanished in a puff of smoke.
“But isn’t the wind a part of you, like everything else here?” she asked. “If you can control, say, that chair…why not it?”
She did not quite understand why it was there, just that it needed to be. It wasn’t as if she were at risk of forgetting the letter’s contents any time soon; No, those had been seared into her vision. In fact, she felt as if, the next time she focused on anything in particular, she would see it behind a translucent layer of scrawled black characters. No, she just felt safer with the letter on her person, where nobody could find it; Although why Cedar did not want anybody to find it, she could not say. Her grandmother certainly didn’t appreciate it when she stuck her nose into other peoples’ business, and had made it a silent rule that the family didn’t read any of the more personal texts that washed up on the Treeshore. Cedar could remember being chastised by her about it as if it had happened yesterday. But this letter was different, very different; It had come from here. It had always been here. And if anyone were to find it, it would bring back…unpleasant memories, things that the rest of the family would not want to dwell on. No, it was not like a normal letter; The secrecy of this one was paramount.
And no, I have never left the Valley, nor have any of my sisters. Mother has not, either, not for many years, and as she is the oldest and wisest of us all, I have to assume that she has a good reason for it.
And now I have question for you. How old were you when you were born, and are you really made out of flesh? Where do you get things in the Outside, if not from the Woodsea? How long have you been eighteen? Is the water ocean real, and have you ever been, and if so, what is it like?
Knowing that her heart would fly out of her chest if she waited any longer, she gently opened the envelope and slid the letter out, carefully unfolding the thin, aged paper. Her shock at the first two words that greeted her was so great that she could have fainted. Her curiosity was so grand that to close her eyes would have been unforgivable.
A simple, messy script stretched across the top of the page, wider perhaps than it needed to be considering how short its message was.
If Cedar could count on one hand the letters she had read, then she could certainly do the same for the amount of times she had heard that name. It slipped by in passing, in hushed chastisements and whispered conversations, never meant to be overheard, not least by her. Whoever let the word escape from their lips regretted it before the sound had had time to seep into the room. It was a tree, of course, and it was a story, and a warning, and a scratched-out face on a carving on the wall.
And now I’m going to tag @sarnai4 , @starwright , @mer-acle , @athene-mykitologos , and anyone else who wants to join! Your word is JEWEL
