by Craig McAnally
The world awoke to a dying Sun.
While scientists clamored and politicians fought,
The people of the world had no one left to comfort them.
So a little girl from Cedarwood Drive took up her sword.
She flew to the Sun and proclaimed:
“Behold! I am the Goddess of Cedarwood Drive!
And you sir, are not doing your job!”
“But I’m old and tired,” said the weary voice of the Sun.
“I no longer have the energy to shine.”
The girl took pity upon the Sun and sheathed her sword.
“But the people of my world need you,” she said.
“What business is that of mine?” cried the Sun.
“I know nothing of your world.”
“Oh but I think you would like it very much.”
And the girl began to tell the Sun stories of her life and her world.
Stories of her parents, her brothers, her friends.
Of love and friendship, of birthdays and holidays.
She sang songs and told jokes.
Together they laughed and danced.
And the Sun began to shine again.
The girl looked back at her world,
And saw it prosper in the Sun’s renewed rays.
“Thank you friend,” she said as she turned to leave.
“Won’t you stay with me?” said the Sun. “I’m very lonely.”
So the girl stayed and continued her stories.
But her life was short and she soon ran out of tales to tell.
So she began to make believe and invent stories of her own.
Stories of wizards and knights and goodness and valor.
And of puppies.
Oh the Sun very much liked to hear about puppies.
He longed to hold them in his arms.
To let them tickle his face with their fur.
The years passed by and the little girl grew old and gray.
But the Sun continued to shine brightly.
And when she would tire, he would make up stories of his own,
Which were always very silly,
Because the Sun did not know exactly how the world worked.
And when he was stuck, he would make up words.
But they always made her laugh and that was what mattered.
And this was how it was for years and years.
On the day she drew her final breath,
Turning back she looked upon her world and knew that all was well.
She turned to the Sun and smiled.
Before closing her eyes one last time she whispered:
“Well done, my boy.”
And the girl, the woman, the Goddess of Cedarwood Drive,
Fell upon the Sun and joined her spirit with his.
And together they continued their stories.
And shone forever.
Wow, that was beautiful. I’m writing this around a big lump in my throat and my eyes sting. Best ending ever.
Okay, glad I’m not alone here, made me tear up. You have a real talent Craig, I mean that.
I think this poem matches my creative writing assignment of “solitude and the mystery of life” more closely than mine did…
Good job.
Wanna do my assignments for me?! Next week I have to write a rap song X |
¡Ole, ole y ole! Very impressive.
It seems like a sweet tale, but really, a small child has access to a sword and proceeds to abandon her family to spend the next few decades telling stories to the sun? Then again, if her family is so lax as to allow her to get her hands on said sword, perhaps it is better she left.
Thanks everyone! Glad you all like it.
Don’t worry FDot, the sword is made of plastic. Or perhaps it’s just a small tree branch. I’ll leave that up to the reader to decide.
Great story! I liked it very much. As I was reading, I was hoping it would address finite human mortality in a beautifully poignant way, and it did.
I found it reminiscent of The Happy Prince ( http://etext.virginia.edu/toc/modeng/public/WilHapp.html ) (one of my favorite short stories) by Oscar Wilde.
When I was a child I saw a cartoon ( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YI92hDyI2HY (Part 1/3) ) based on the Happy Prince at a church function. I was profoundly touched. It inspired an altruistic ambition in myself that I have not yet been able to live up to.
Thank you for sharing your stories.
I love that you let us read these stories, Craig. What a great way to start the day.
That’s absolutely beautiful Craig! So touching. I especially like the part about the puppies.
Wondering where the cedarwood drive came from?
The story is nice but the flying up with the sword bit really bugs me. It’s aggressive. And completely unnecessary for the story. She can fly to the sun and talk to him, ask what’s going on. Simple….Just my 2 cents.
How about took up her “space bike”? I mean, I’m not naive, I understand violence is all around us and you can’t shelter a kid from it, not completely, but it’s so… unneeded here.
Plus space bikes are just cool. If you don’t believe me, ask Karl Schroedder, who wrote Sun of Suns. A nice book recommendation for ya – far future science fiction with pirates! Seriously – look it up.
David: I think we’re on the same page here. (Except maybe the space bike thing, but they do sound like fun
) That’s pretty much the theme of the story. Violence wasn’t the answer. She flew to him aggressively and was ready for a fight, but once she saw what the Sun was like, she took pity upon him and they became friends. But I think the sword attempt is essential to the story.
Alright, well. I’m not your target audience (remember the political post thing), don’t have or will have kids, and in spite of best efforts, I’m all grown up.
But the message to me is clear – The sun was dying and not doing his job, so you threaten it? The girl’s speech is already a mild form of confrontation – I’m a goddess, you’re not doing your job (i.e, i order you to do so or else!).
I’m not a writer, so I don’t always feel comfortable commenting on your writing because I don’t think I have the knowledge to formulate a useful critique. While I may not know how to critique, I do know how to recognize mood and when I am entertained.
I think I get what you are going for and I understand some of the comments here about a sword. I think you are right, the sword and “aggression” is necessary (I see it more as taking charge rather than hostility) as it offsets the compassion the girl later shows. While I think this is an entertaining piece, I think this one might benefit more from illustrations than the other pieces you have posted.
With all of that said, in my opinion (for what it is worth) I think it is great that you are flexing your creative muscles and are writing on a regular basis. I hope the feedback you are getting here encourages more writing.
Perhaps an added sentence might help, but I envisioned the sword “attack” as a more playful event rather than being overly aggressive. As if she threw on a plastic tiara, tied a towel around her neck like a cape, and grabbed a stick to use as a sword. That’s how I interpret it. Didn’t think it would be taken so seriously. But my writing has always been very minimalist, and I enjoy leaving things open for interpretation. After all, in a story where a girl flies to the Sun and talks to it, a lot needs to be left to the imagination.
Oh, and I’ve always been bad at taking criticism. I take it way more personal than I should. So don’t mind me if I come off as defensive. Just call me Kenley
I was not overwhelmed by the girl’s initial aggressive stance. I saw it more as her being a bratty know-it-all kid. I feel like it was a transformative experiance for both she and the sun. They each learned to look past their self interest for the greater good of the world.
I’m with Chris on this one. Aggression was too strong a word, “take charge” is probably more accurate. And the messages of sympathy, acceptance and cooperation far out weigh any sense of inappropriateness on the girl’s part.
As for you, you are far from Kenleyesque. I have never had the urge to hit you.
I’m SO bad at taking criticism. In my creative writing class, we are NOT ALLOWED to speak during our own workshops. Thank God… my class would hate me.
And yeah, from the beginning, I read the sword part as a kind of cute/funny/playful thing like what Craig said about the towel, etc.
Damn, I hate it when Craig posts something so intriguing on a Sunday and I have to miss out on the dialogue… Maybe I’ll take up my sword and fly to New York and confront this Craig… (Hey, I could call myself the Godling of Tulane Road…)
But, seriously, this is good stuff, Craig. You have yet to disappoint. I agree with Chris’s assessment of the story and got the same thing from it that he did. Aggression and anger isn’t the answer to the problem, but rather compassion and understanding. I love the transformative essence to the story — starting with the sun, moving to the earth, then ultimately changing the Goddess of Cedarwood Drive.
Ironically (myself being an artist), I wouldn’t want to see this one illustrated. I love the abstract pictures my mind created far more than any artist could depict.
Nice work.
I have a minor problem with the second to last sentence, as it doesn’t make complete sense to me, but overall it was lovely.