Death And The Willow

• Sara Gilbert, Grade 8, Brentwood Secondary College -
• Short Story
• 2018

Excellence Award in the 'Horizon of Dreams 2018' competition

The trees danced in the warm breeze, swaying to the beat of the drums below. Firefly lanterns glowed bright yellow, orange and green against the navy sky. People danced and sang songs forgotten millenniums ago. They made fire appear in their hands and made water do loops in the sky. Colourful sparks took the form of dragons and phoenixes, all gathering around the centre of the Multiverse. Some might say that they had gathered from all four corners of the Multiverse but everyone knows that the many Universes goes on infinitely so how could it have corners? All of the magic was gathered here. Around the Willow tree, the physical being of the Holy Goddess of Life itself. Her deep green leaves sparkling in the light of the silver moon. But all was not well, the Willow was dying. Her immortal heart was not as immortal as she thought, for the only way to kill a god or goddess was by another god or goddess. The magic people were not aware of this, so they continued to dance and celebrate the birth of Nature herself. Clouds had started to appear in the sky, covering the golden twinkle of the stars. No one took notice of the dark grey appearance above so they singing carried on. The bards still told stories and the dancers still made fire look like a flaming bird. Islands hovered above them and people climbed up the vines or used air to shoot up the side of the cliffs faster than falcons. A cool change had come through by now, but no one bothered to put on their cloaks. They stayed in their light, thin, colourful silk robes.

There was one God who hated Nature. Nature had everything he wanted. Love, affection, beauty. He had a ginormous island made of lava and rock with billions of billions of groaning dead people. Not exactly utopia. He wanted everything she had. He wanted to be recognised as a powerful god, not a coward hiding in the darkness. He wanted people to PRAY to him, not to beg for mercy after having summoned him to drag them into the underworld. He cringed at the way people worshipped this… this tree. How could a TREE be the key to every living thing. He released a loud banshee shriek and everyone froze. Ten thousand demons dropped out of the sky and started sucking the life out of the magic people. The Willow tree wilted. Her branches shook with anger and distress. She had to retreat. She hated the thought of leaving her people to die but she had no choice. She let her leaves fall and the tree withered into nothing more than dead, black roots. The angry God named the dying place after some of the magic people he enslaved. Earth. The demons retreated, chains on the remaining victims. There was no magic left on Earth. Some call him Hades, some call him Pluto but all in all… he is Death.