The Art of Story telling - Short Story
Choose a question from A Calendar of Tales. Answer it. Now write a story from this answer.
âIf August could speak, what would it say?â That itâs so hot, itâs baking.
The air was too still.
Meria had come under the canopy to look for a brush of fresh air but even in the shade, there was no escaping the summer heat.
The grass was yellow and withered. From the window of her bedroom upstairs, it could appear beautiful, as if a great golden mantel covered the earth, but up close, she could see how her parentsâ garden was suffering.
As far as she could tell, it hadnât rained for three weeks and four days. The water tank ran low, the strawberries hung sadly from their branch, and the stream that used to sing in the woods had turned into a muddy snake.
There was nothing to do but wait. The weather was starting to affect the villagers. Kids didnât come outside anymore, the plastic of the playground too hot for their fair skin. Her motherâs neighbors, an old couple still obnoxiously in love after decades spent together, were now having words all day long. They werenât the only ones.
Meriaâs man had left two days before, turned mad by the heat and humidity, and holding Meria and her parents responsible for the lack of amenities in the house. In a sense, it was true. Every bit of money her parents could spare was put into the family farm, growing vegetables for years. There had never been any need to install the AC or purchase a TV. The only concession had been the internet, but it was so slow it had eventually pushed her partner over the edge. He had left, saying he would never come back.
Meria wondered if it was true, what it meant to her relationship, if it was over between them.
She couldnât even feel sad about it, she didnât have that kind of energy. She felt dried up, like a cake left in the oven for too long, baked to the point of having lost taste and texture. At this point, she was just longing for rain.
If rain came, it would save the farm. Meria could battle against the banks, against the loan sharks, against the buyers, against the State even. But she couldnât battle the sky. That victory was out of her reach.
Or maybe, the heat wave was a sign. That is was time to stop the fight, time to let go. The void that would surely follow terrified her. Better to hold on, under a thirsty tree, whose branches hung as low as her spirit.
Suddenly there was noise, a car on the road. Meria watched for it, followed it to a nearby house where it parked on the gravels. A woman came out, wearing a white summer dress, cool as a lily. She disappeared into the house and Meria lost interest.
Later, as she was resting her eyes, she heard the light steps on the pebbles, getting closer. The woman walked towards her, Meria watched her under her lids. She had changed into something more fitting to her surroundings, as though she wanted to go into the woods gather wild berries.
âHello,â she said, and her tone was so nice, so familiar, as if she was talking to an old friend, Meria was taken aback.
âDo I know you?â
âMaybe not anymore,â the new comer admitted. âIâm Evelin, we used to play together. A long time ago.â
Meria closed her eyes to welcome the mental pictures. They hadnât been friend exactly, but they had been part of the same group of kids, re-enacting battles for freedom all around the village. âYou havenât chosen the best time to come back.â
âMy mom called me. She said itâs my fault and I have to fix it.â
Meria blinked. âIâm sorry?â
Evelin looked away. âA few weeks ago, I spent the night. It was raining heavily then and I sang something to call the sun. I meant it as a joke, but my mom assured me it hasnât rained since. So, here I am.â
Meria laughed. âWhat are you gonna do? A rain dance?â
âWhy not? Anything for my mom. You wanna come?â
âAnd do what?â
âI donât know yet. Iâll see when I get there.â
âThis is crazy,â Meria muttered. But she stood up. There was nothing else to do.
She followed Evelin into the woods, walked behind her on the planks that crossed the stream, desperately quiet. Even the microclimate of the forest seemed to have given in to the heat. It wasnât as hot as in the garden but the humidity was worse. Mosquitoes were swarming. Evelin broke from the path, to hike between the trees. The ferns, usually vibrant and playful, had the renouncing bow of lifelong prisoners.
Meria lost her footing and fell, opening her palms on a nasty rock. Before Evelin could turn back and help, she was standing again, cleaning the wound with her mouth.
Evelin eventually led her to a giant boulder, as old as the land. Most likely the forest had expanded around it for centuries. A tree had found the strength to grow within a crack and now, it stood beautifully above the stone, its roots wrapping around like a crown, seemingly unaffected by the heat wave.
Meria had forgotten about the place, or rather, she had turned indifferent to it, somehow knowing it was there but without desire to see it again after years spent away. For the second time, memories flowed her, of games played on that boulder, of disagreement over who it belonged to, childish thoughts that led kids to believe they could own such a force.
If there was a god of rain, as Evelinâs mother seemed to be convinced, it wasnât a bad idea to look for them here.
âNow what?â she asked.
âI donât know,â Evelin sighed. âMaybe a sacrifice, but what?â
âI have blood,â Meria noted, extended her palm.
âOh, okayâŠmaybe smear it on the stone, say a few words?â
âWhat shall I say?â
Evelin shrugged. âI think you know more than me what is needed.â
For a moment, Meria pondered over the words. Then she put her hand on the boulder and dragged it, tracing a large circle around it. She prayed for a storm, with thunder and cracks that would make the air breathable again. The she asked for a gentle rain, soft enough as to not damage the crops. Finally she begged for morning dew and evening mist, the ultimate sign the earth would have cooled down.
As she did, her wound stung baldy but she never wavered, even finding beauty in the contrast of the scarlet blood against the grey stone. Once done, she came back to Evelin who smiled. âThe rain will wash it,â she said as they walked back.
