For your enjoyment, this week I’m sharing a short story originally written in 2017. It’s Ontyre fantasy, a holiday story set in Raspell, Pannulus.
It’s the tale of sixteen year-old Phrilla, orphaned since soon after birth. Phrilla works as a clerk in a downtown store. She’s also a Sylvan, someone gifted with flora magic. Life has been stealing her dreams, but one remains.
I do hope you enjoy the story. It’s a twenty to thirty minute read. The holidays are near so, please, gift those you meet with a smile this season.
For the third time in the young morning of a young life, Phrilla Beckle prepared to save a life, the peace she seldom knew filling her when she was helping patients. She set a hand to either side of an ivy plant and her gift awoke. The plant’s internal structure appeared from leaves to roots. The plant longed for the sunlight, so scarce in late Autumn End Season.
First infusing it with additional strength, she next noted its desire for moisture, but not too much.
She tipped the watering can. “You have to keep up your strength because you’re the mama ivy. Well, not really, but I like to think of you that way.”
Mothering required a certain amount of imagination when she had no idea what it was to have a mother. Still, mending flora hearts was a step towards completing her own.
Beyond the plant, beyond the window, holiday shoppers trudged through the Raspell snow along Low Street. Bells rang. Not far away, there was singing. It was a glorious time of year, but not a good time for ivy plants in a northward facing window.
Tirena Ivy from Shorus Island was hardy, but a north window was cruel.
Choir voices penetrated her thoughts and warmed her inside. She gently rocked, her skirts swishing with the rhythm.
Footfalls approached. “Why do you do that, Phrilla?”
She grinned at the so often heard criticism before turning. “I enjoy it.”
Rassy, hands on her hips, shook her head, her pinned red hair a fire above green eyes it’d be joyous to have.
Those green eyes rolled. “You come in early when our wages go to the orphanage anyway? We have two more years of purported work study that’s really cruelty, before we turn eighteen. You do extra work and Mister Drendle profits.”
“But the plants are innocent.”
“It’d serve Dreaded Drendle right if they all shriveled up. By the Powers, Phrilla, he already owns the largest mercantile in downtown Raspell.”
“But the plants…”
“Do you have any idea how much it’d cost him to pay a trained Sylvan to come in here to do what you do for free?”
“Wake up, Phrilla. The orphanage won’t send you to a gifted’s school and you can’t pay for it because your earnings are split between the orphanage and Dreaded Drendle.”
To read the remainder of Phrilla’s story, please join me on the website HERE.