The Secret Wordsmiths

Short 500 word story


1. A dream

In the dead of midnight when all is still, the unknown comes
alive. Whispers are lamented throughout the leaves in the form of wordsmiths. These
spirits travel through our worlds to the minds of human authors. So the truth
is unvailed as the stories of us come to be, the trees are our wordsmiths and
by the dead of the moonlight darkness they come. We see them not in our dream
filled sleep.

Esme slept in a sound full
snooze. The town's clock hit eleven and the echoes sounded through Esme's ears.
In a soporific daze she awoke from a deep slumber, rubbing her dreamy eyes as
she sat up, stretching.

Still, silence...

A silvery moonlight figurine
stood before her...


screamed the figure as it floated frantically, trying to escape.

"Sssssshhhhhhh please ssshhhhh, why don't you tell me your name?"

And silence fell once more.....

"Stella Figulas"


"Stella Figulus, it means star shaper in
your tongue. If you must, call me Stella..." But as Stella trailed away a howling
wind sailed savagely through the window. With a sudden panic in Stella's eyes
she twirled in a gusty spiral trying to escape but as she did, Esme cried,

"Stop! Wait! Who are you? Where are you
going?" and without a seconds thought, Esme gripped onto Stella and twirled
within the air.

The scenery changed around Esme's world. A
sweet pine forest, with dew slithering off each leaf, encircled the pair.

"No!" Stella cried "oh no, oh no, oh no!!!
You can't be here, not here you'll..." but before Stella could continue a
simmering hiss surround them, a thousand thousand whispers closing upon them.
Gasping for air Stella grasped Esme's wrist and hauled her into a dark cavern.

"Who are..?"

"Hush!" gasped Stella "The trees are
listening, they'll steal your words."

Silence fell for a few minutes or more until
Stella finally sighed, spied her head around the corner and stepped out into
the open.

Esme now started to question "Who are you?
Where am I? What are you?"

"In answer to your questions I am a tree
sprit, your world's secret wordsmiths. You are in our land, where words
themselves speak through the trees. Then we come through to your world and
plant the words into your heads while you slumber. But you shouldn't be here,
you really shouldn't for when you are here, your words will be taken from you
until you have no more words left. You shall fade into the landscape; you won't
have even existed..! You should go home, back to your parents!"

"Have none, I only had an aunt, but she
hates me. I live in her house and I'm an intruder in her house."

Esme stopped as she could see Stella's

"Hold my hand." Stella said.

Rising and falling through the crisp
twilight air, they saw stars speak and the moon beam down upon them. They soared
for hours on end until Esme's eyes began to droop until she slept her dream

"Sleep now...." A whisper said and Stella
floated away into the midnight blue....

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