The day Ava's husband died, three hundred tiny trees burst from the forest floor. Her tears had wet the soil and begged life forth. In a hundred years, this forest would shelter a young boy seeking asylum, locking into firm place a further chain of events that would lead to the beginning of a long awaited new world. However, Ava was not to know this, and never would, because the future is so unknown to all of us, and so had little consolation for her loss.
Seven days a week, for nine months a year, Ava and he joined the mushroom pickers in the thousands of acres of forests to look for tricholoma spirabilis, the Life Giver. It was discovered by Anna the Dark, who was lost for a hundred and five years in the very hills in which Ava was earning her living. When Anna emerged from the forest she was heavily pregnant with Ava's mother, who was to discover the new species of fungi on the eve of her own disappearance but thankfully left copious amounts of drawings and notes that detailed the qualities of this new species, including it's ability to oxygenate the blood at a time when humanity needed it the most. People needed to breath. That was as sure as death and taxes.
As for Ava's grandmother, when asked about her disappearance and the paternity of her green eyed girl, she would open her arms out wide and smile, which was as much an answer as anyone would ever recieve. She was both revered and feared a little, but people would come to her to ask her about which plants would heal a broken heart and broken bone alike. She had a way of knowing.
Despite her illustrious ancestry, Ava was not immune to any of the tragedies that befell her fellow pickers. Death from exposure was common - it was achingly cold here in the winter and hypothermia would creep if one did not pay attention. Many of the pickers were missing the tips of fingers from where frostbite had settled as they searched beneath the crystals of ice to find the precious fruit. In the spring, the giant horseflies, some of them the size of small dogs, could pierce the skin in a single bite and cause the muscles of the heart to contract and spasm. In summer, the heat was unbearable unless one moved very slowly in the shade of the gargantuan trees, but to move slow was often to lose wages, or to return to the markets with scant pickings and thus capacity to earn. The seasons were long and hard, respite coming only in the Autumn where unusually - for most fungi were autumnal gifts - the Life Giver deliquesced into a sanguineous fluid that nurtured the other life in the biosphere in ways that science was only just beginning to comprehend. These few relatively restful months were a time to rest and gather the other fungi and offerings that did not have as much market value and thus were not as highly sought over, but still could sustain a family for the rest of the year.
Ava's man was ten years her senior and taught her all she knew, given her mother had left her an orphan when she disappeared. He was tender in his offerings and she loved to hear him talk to the children about mycellium and hyphae as he read the forest for signs of spirabilis - a slight humping of the soil, a particular tree which opened every cell in it's roots, trunk and leaves to allow the fungi to thrive and in turn grew itself to provide in an endless reciprocity only gods could have brought into being.
His death was not a forest death, much to everyone's sadness. A forest death was a good death - the pickers appreciated their flesh would become soil, dissolved by the white threads of fungi they had followed all their life. Christianity had never served these folk - rebirth took new forms out of necessity. One had to believe in something, after all.
He had died because he had dared to stand up to the middle merchants who often took advantage of the migrant pickers and had mistook him for one. He refused to accept a low price and called the merchants exactly what everyone thought they were and were too scared to say, whereupon one took a pistol from the folds of his cloak and shot him through the heart. A trillion spirabilis spores filled the area and shimmered when he died, and at least half the marketplace said that the air left their lungs simultaneously, such was he loved amongst his fellow men.
For Ava, however, despite the gift of the three hundred trees, the forest had much to answer for and owed her much, much more. As a girl in a particular time and place, she had no idea that her beloved's death was just a butterfly's flapping wing which would, after a century or so, bring the world into newness and a connected, fertile and beautiful beingness that she could only dream about in the tiny corners of her subconcious mind in dreams where she flew like a goshawk over the forest with a lightness in her chest no one on earth had ever known. However, in this moment, she was an amoeba unaware of itself, searching, blind. She was full of hot and wet questions: why had she been left alone again? How would she guide her people? How could she, descendant of Anna the Dark, possibly take his place, when he left her only half equipped with scant knowledge of the forest that could lead them out of this dark age in human history? Why were the merchants so cruel? Why were they bound in these cycles of prejudice and poverty, slavery and servitude? Whilst Ava and her partner may have been born in these forests, they were still economic migrants, forced into these edges of society yet bound to contribute to the larger, and barely given any honour nor reward for it. The mutualism of the forest was a perfectly organized system. The capitalist economy which utilized it was not.
And thus, in despair, and despite the burgeoning trees, Ava continued to cry - for her lost love, for her lost mother. No wonder they had left, she thought. What place does the world have for the ones who are one with the forest? Who are misunderstood, misaligned, their beliefs ridiculed, their science mocked?
But as the pickers and forest dwellers know, it is also the way of the forest to reveal what one needs the most, and at this moment, she needed the guidance of lost love, and so the forest moved in action to supply her need, obedient and empathetic.
As the hundred year future forest rose from her tears, so too did the tricholoma, whispering to her with citrus, earthy breathiness as they rose from the soil. The shape that took form was her husband. The hyphae tips had found their way to his corpse in the market place had dissolved both flesh and spirit and retreated here, beautiful constellations of fungal pathways that had run along tunnels of bark and through the gaps in soil to join her where she grieved.They had wilded their way to the granddaughter of Anna the Dark, taking on the dead man's form.
He was there to give her what she needed to know to lead her people forward. His beard was fringed with hoarfrost, his fingertips stained with spores, his eyes periwinkle blue, lips stained wine purple. The dead man was beautiful, a dru of snow gums, a pan of the eucalyptus. He cupped his amaranthine hands and huffs and puffs so the spores of the Life Giver clouds around her, dressing Ava in velvet green. She filled with wonder and love and breath.
Ah, the pain of life, she thought. It is this I must bear. It is okay. It is okay. We go forward, still. What it is, she thinks, to love and create, feel joy and euphoria. From the dark forest floor bursts forth fruiting bodies, from the cracked seed held tight in black soil propels the nascent tree. One must treasure such intensity.
It was not long after she would feel, unexpectedly, the flutterings of a child, and although impossible, it was not so incomprehensible. He had come to her, after all. In the future, her child will birth another child, and then another, until one day, a distant offspring of hers will seek asylum in the forest, and the dryads and drus will rise up against those that chase him down, and then all will be set free.
But for now, Ava wipes the salt from her eyes and waves to her beautiful man as he disappears back into the mist that swirls about the trees.
She resumes filling her basket for the market, nibbling on a spirabilis, nourishing her and her unborn child with oxygen, with life, so that they may give birth to the future.
This story is written in response to the prompt 'Wonder', from The Ink Well's weekly challenge, and is dedicated to @itsostylish, who is always so encouraging of my work, and to @trucklife-family, who knows a thing or two about grief and forests and mushrooms. The collages are my own, made from stock images from Unsplash and all fungi are from my own fungi photos.
With Love,
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This was beautifully written, and there you go again using words, words, and more words to seduce my mind, heart, and soul❣️❣️❣️ I am still spellbound by what you have accomplished here, Riverflows. I was completely enthralled from start to finish... the magnitude of the incredible impacts our seemingly limited life choices may have on future generations really hits home in a stunningly effective way. The wonder that you weave with your characters both in life and in the hereafter, and their almost symbiotic relationship with the natural world... their lives literally intertwined at death... If that's what emerges onto paper when your writing mojo returns... geez... do us all a favour, will you!!! hahaha. Loved it, honestly... I truly have no words! The Ink Well said it all.
If you add the URLs for the stock images used, I'd love to see this shared in Dreemport this week.
@dreemsteem @juliamulcahy @penderis @nickydee I think you might all enjoy this one.
!LUV !ALIVE !PIZZA
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Thanks so much, that's very kind. Honestly, I'm humbled - that makes me so happy. I write these things with no idea whether people will like them or not so it's so lovely that enjoyed it - thanks sooo much.
I edited the post to say the image were sourced from Unsplash which is more specific than the aforementioned 'stock photos' - but life is to short for me to find time to source the four images I used. They are collages I made myself and all the mushrooms are my own. If you can't include it in Dreemport for that reason that's fine by me - Unsplash doesn't require me to source the images so I think my addendum at the end is clear enough. xxx
I totally understand trying to find the time to source the images again, and that Unsplash does not require images to be sourced. That is something that is hard to differentiate when we explain posting on Hive vs sharing also on Dreemport. I just really wanted to share your story with more people 🤗 (and did get to do that anyway by tagging some)
Just so you know the methods to our madness - we've had people entering posts in Dreemport that have images from other places, which always need to be verified. When the screeners can't locate the image, it ends up sending them on a wild goose chase. The direct URLs have saved us so much time - and now we have posts that are clear for the public to have confidence to upvote!
I have no doubt that you got those pictures from Unsplash 😊, but we do now require everyone who uses Dreemport to drop the image URLs on their posts to make things simpler and less contentious for all lol... I hope you understand... Personally, now I just grab them as I go when I know I will be sharing one of my own posts.
Again...it was a beautiful read Riverflows ... It's nice when I get inspired to write more! and you did that for me this week!! So thank you xx
Thanks hon I do get it. I don't really use Dreemport so I'm not that bothered, but I'll take note for next time to make your life easy. But remember I'm a pirate and hate being told what to do. Seriously. It's a problem...and the more I'm told the less likely it is I'll do it. Ask my hubs. 🤪🏴☠️
aye! aye! hehe
I will still enjoy your writing wherever you choose to share it xx !LUV !LADY
And I yours! 💚💚 don't worry Ive been requested enough on this post to never do it again 🤪🏴☠️
Thanks so much for thinking of me 😌 I really appreciate it!
Wonderful to read some creative writing on here... and beautifully written ❤️
I"m off to see the wizard... (following links and exploring) 💥
😊
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You write with a viscerally audacious voice! it’s so real, so enthralling, and utterly engrossing.
It’s a particularly rare talent to harpoon the reader’s emotions and thread them, like an arrow, through the tale - we breathe, cry and grin at your behest - you capture us, and it’s a sublime adventure.
A charming tale about the chain of life, with all its associated trials and tribulations. A story of hope, renewal and the conclusive power of true love that reaches beyond the finality of death to initiate a better world.
Beautifully written; a mystical, magical tale under the canopy, amongst the mushrooms.
Your writing demonstrates exactly how authors should handle violent situations or actions without relying on graphic details purely for shock value. Nicely done!
Also, great use of the prompt.
Goodness gracious, if that's not n accolade I don't know what is. I might have to frame this one. Thankyou. Humbled. PS To whom am I talking? Honestly, I am beyond flattered and so encouraged.
And I'm awfully glad I didn't break any rules... It was only after much work and hitting publish that I realised that I had shot a character .. oops.
Hello @riverflows, just if you don't mind adding a source for the images you used, under each image or just in the footer.
That would be great, for this one and for future posts.
Thank you! :)
As stated in my blogv - you might have missed it at the end - I created the images myself from my own mushroom photos and from stock images, that don't require itemisation. I added that I sourced them from Unsplash which is a little more specific. Hope that helps.
I did not miss your reference to that in the footer, and thank you for mentioning it. However, we ask everyone to provide a link to the source of the stock images used.
Turning the word "unsplash" into a link which points to the page of the stock image would be sufficient.
Thank you for your understanding!
I really like your fantasy fiction story. I like the courage to fight the merchant.
Thank you. I saw it as a bigger metaphor but i wasn't happy with that part, I need to rewrite and edit it a Little if I'm honest...
But I like that part.
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Thank you, @riverflows , for writing such a wonderful tale full of hope and renewal (and mushrooms) FOR ME (I’m so flabbergasted, I nearly drowned in my coffee this morning).
I especially like the thread of true love and how you weave it to loom a shiny new world.
Much appreciation and luv🤗❤️💕❤️❤️🤗
Awwww .. I appreciate your support. Tomorrow I'll get chance to read yours and a few others... Tonight I sleep xx It's super nice to be appreciated xx
I really enjoyed this piece. It's really a masterpiece
Wow, thankyou!
I was speechless! It was beautifully, well-written story. You brought me to another world of fantasy that urges me to know more of this world. Such imagination!
I am still full of awe and amazement in your story @riverflows. I admit, this is one of the best stories I read for this week's prompt. Super awesome!
Oh shucks. Honestly. It means a lot. I'll be reading a ton today and look forward to it.
This is such an amazing tale woven so expertly and filled with so much wonder.
You connect the future and the past so well it added to the wonder your story is filled with.
I admire Ava's courage to carry on despite the unfortunate events that befell her.
Well written! @riverflows 👏
Aw thanks so much. I love writing and it's so lovely to hear people liked it
You're welcome. 🥰
Sometimes life cannot be really explained, no matter how we try to.
We might wonder what our purpose is on this earth but as sadly, we can never forget the paths our father's and mother's took, that path we must also follow to bring about that beautiful future..
Magical story, the moment I started reading through I couldn't stop untill I reached the end..shows the expertise at which it was written...Thanks for sharing ❤️
Thankyou!! This is a lovely compliment. Once I started I slipped into a really long stretch of time and I'm glad I managed make it work..I wanted to get across how we are just smallparts of a bigger whole..
Hello @riverflows,
I don't know where to begin. I'll start with the thought behind the story, which for me is always more important even than style. People who pick fruit. The invisible ones. Not the only invisible ones in society, but ubiquitous across the world. My grandfather was a farmer, and employed seasonal migrant workers. Even as a child I was impressed with their dreadful living conditions. And their children, who would disappear from school every winter. Children who were always at the bottom of the class in skill achievement.
The appeal for justice behind your story struck me most strongly. But would I have heard that appeal clearly if your skill in presenting it had been less? No.
Glad to see you here. So many wonderful things (I love the fact, for instance, that you emphasize the role of women as powerful life givers) to speak about. Let me say, as I have before about your writing, you know the craft and you use it well to achieve your purpose.
Hope to see a story from you soon, again.
Thanks so much @agmoore. There were so many threads in this story that magically came together, and I would have loved more time to explore the workers and the migrants which I could hardly give enough credit in such a short work. I was listening to an audio about mushroom pickers in America that are often from places like Laos and how they are very much fringe dwellers. There's a whole 'industry' that is separate from, say, working for 'the man' picking fruit from a farm, say, in season. There's so much more I wanted to add and write, but I'm thrilled you picked up some of the main themes that I was weaving through. Gah, this story begs to be bigger.
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STOPThis piece is beautiful. Your writing reminds me of Ted Dekker. He always gets you so engrossed.
Good luck with the challenge dear.
Oh I'll have to look him up! Thankyou!
You definitely should.
Keep it up.
Amazing!
Your writing is really poetry in motion. It was like reading an enchanting ancient passage.
Thanks sooo much!
Great combination of mushroom knowledge and lore with the bittersweet moments that life throws at us. The story has a near-apocalyptic feel to it without dwelling too much on the negative. Magical apocalypse? Beautiful descriptions of this world. Nicely done.
Thanks ever so much. It's kind of you to say. All the times I've written for this community and I've never had so much as an honourable mention... You start to doubt your ability! But coming from you, that's praise indeed 💜🙏
You have the gift of story telling, and the knowledge to boot. Look forward to reading more of your creations.
Thankyou - you are so kind. This place makes me want to read and write more...
This is very beautiful, amazing written, your use and choice of words are very Awesome ❤️
Thanks!
Congratulations, @riverflows! Among many good stories this week, yours has been chosen among the best to be part of our highlighted authors magazine.
https://peakd.com/hive-170798/@theinkwell/the-ink-well-highlights-magazine-64
Thankyou. It means a lot xx
the collages are great, stunning art, I am speechless. 👍
NB.
in case you will need it next time, feel free to use my fungi pictures as well.
Oh thanks @qwerrie , I've just remembered you have some on Hive Stock Images! That's kind of you.
Actually, I did not share mushrooms there. Herbs, Wallet, Money, if I remember correct. I mean, mushroom macros from my posts -- feel free to use in your awesome collages / art. 🙏
Amazing! When you’re good, you’re good🔥