Stelleri and the Ghost Trees (WIP. Critique please? c:)

[Aribis]

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Trunks stood tall and stately, so wide that they were like pillars holding the sky in place. Between the trunks stood heavy air, laden with moisture and the prospect of something happening but yet nothing has ever happened—happened yet, for the air was still waiting. The air shuddered in lazy waves, slow and unhurried—the breathing of the trees. The shadows stretched their fingers across the ground, ruling this hall of pillars in a gentle grasp, yet the sun continued to penetrate the still darkness, speckling the undergrowth with a gilded shimmer.

At first glance the forest did not seem to hold any life, yet when you look closer, small moving things scuttles high in the green ceiling, or low in the musty leaves. Yet all was silent, save the occasional rebellion of the forest’s silence, of the creatures saying that ‘Yes! We are here!’ to the world, to the sun. One such creature was Stelleri, who flitted amongst the strong and limber boughs of the far reaching canopy, searching for food, for prey—for sustenance to face the hard winter. The insects and lizards were all hiding themselves away in their bolts and hidey holes, shuddering at the thought that the brilliant stelleri would seek them so. That, thought the crested stelleri, made feeding quite inconvenient. He paused, tilting his head and listening quietly; he listened for the small skittering of claws of lizards, and the whisper of the flit-flittering of dusty insect wings on the air…but nothing. Stelleri scolded them all, complaints rising high into the moisture laden sky of the dark and roomy forest. Such was life, then. He moved to another branch, fluttering and gliding between trees in his never ending search of food. Soon enough, stelleri gave up on the idea of having something fleshy, and instead hopped his way to the edge of the branches, looking for the seed-houses.

Soon enough and without fail, he found one such fortress. Appraising his prize from the branch, stelleri leaped at it, tugging and straining against the pod’s hold on the branch, sending the fortress tumbling through the air. Stelleri danced with the cone as it fell, flashing his brilliantly azure wings and flicking sooty tail in the descent, and saw with satisfaction the cone bursting open on a conveniently positioned rock below. Stelleri landed and had his choice pick of seed, filling beak and gizzard with the tender seedlings, and he flew off amongst the trees to store his prize away; a small piece of stormy sky lost in the shadow of the trees.

Soon enough, the winds turned and the nights got colder, followed soon by the daylight hours dwindling away; Stelleri thanked his wits for storing as much food as he did, and made it through the winter without a problem, mocking those foolish enough to squander the warm days of plenty, and laughing at those who had to leave to survive. The forest was much emptier, then. Stelleri was king of the daylight hours in this kingdom under the leaves, he robed in his cerulean grandeur. None were so colorful as he, none so sly—none could outwit the stormy sky bird.

With the return of the dusty wings came warmer days and hotter spirits. Stelleri searched ceasesly, as young as he was, for a lady as lovely as himself. During the dewed mornings, Stelleri lamented his solitude to the heavens, and in the afternoon searched again. His fellow sooty sky birds all seemed to find their lords and ladies, but not him. Yet try he did, never ceasing, flying ever farther afield for that one to fill the hole in his heart. When he couldn’t find his lady, Stelleri spurned the smaller feathered folk, screaming at them of their stupidity, scaring them with his call of the hawk. Skerie! Skerie! This sooty sky bird was the menace of the trees. The skin changing beasts came, then; they pulled up their foul monstrous beasts and pitched their upside down nests. The skin changers were mysterious creatures, and Stelleri took great interest to them. The young lord had never seen one before, and the smells and sights that were brought with them were better than him passing his hours scaring the peasantry.

With the skin changers came his lady; clad in sapphire and onyx and not a feather out of place, she beheld him with bright eyes. Stelleri spun circles out of the air, weaving impossible designs in the tapestry of the wind, singing his loudest for his lady. Day in and day out he exhausted himself to impress her and, by and by, she had eyes only for him—her silly, young, dashing lord who showered such praises on her. Then on they only had eyes for each other, and tenderly they collected the most beautiful strands of grass and reed, and the purest wads of glue, in order to build the perfect nest to rule their kingdom from. They ruled from one of the great pillars, high up, and no one avoided their notice.

Stelleri’s lady laid three eggs, beautiful and round and the palest of pale greens, barely flecked with any browns of any kind. Stelleri spent his days ferrying the choice bits of food for her, pleased to be doing anything to make her happy. With him at her side, she was growing to get at plump as a new hatched child! If only she would let him…but she didn’t, making Stelleri instead sit the nest while she spread her wings and flew, keeping off those ounces with all the grace in the world. A such the days passed, and soon enough cracks grew in the eggshells, accompanied by the plaintivie squeaks of their children. Then, Stelleri’s days got much busier, ferrying morsels of food back and forth, defending the young from any conniving rogue. At night he slept near his family, pride swelling his breast, warming and propelling his little heart. He was happy.

One day Stelleri was coming back to the nest as the great fire orb grew weary from his daily flight. He clutched a small branch of acorns for his rapidly growing young ones in his beak, and was relishing the prospect of resting for the night when something moved in the branches. Still the little lord continued, keeping a wary eye peeled for whatever it could be. For all he knew, it could be a harmless nightjar... it was probably a nightjar. The shadow moved again; bigger now…closer. Stelleri’s nape stood on end. He didn’t like this…not at all. Then, all of a sudden the shadow swept silently through a silvered beam, illuminating it for a brief second, yet it was a second enough to see that it was not a nightar—an owl! Stelleri dropped his branch of acorns and screamed to warn his lady. The Owl! He was too close to the nest…far too close…the renegade beast threatening Stelleri’s kingdom. The sooty sky bird swept up to his far large predassasor and screeched at him, berating and scolding the large bird to move off—to go farther away and leave his family in peace. Unfortunately, the silent owl didn’t care for Stelleri’s threats and made a grab at the bird, but Stelleri was quick and deft on wing, and slid away with ease.

Stelleri was a constant thorn in Owl’s side. Dive once, fly away! Rinse, repeat, do over! Again and again the owl took irritated swipes at the soot sky bird with his talons and beak; he pulled some azure feathers at one blow, but that never stopped the little lord. Stelleri’s lady joined in the harassment, having heard her lord’s shrieks from afar. His brave, brave lady…She was even more vicious than he! The owl got fed up soon enough and ghosted away, tired of messing with the small couple, and hungry for easier prey. Stelleri’s lady trumpeted her triumph and looked around for her lord, but he was nowhere to be seen. She called out his name, flitting from tree to tree, and heard a faint response. The Lady joined Stelleri by where he lay, tangled in thick branches, wing all askew. Stelleri’s lady’s heart plummeted, seeing her joyful, ever valiant lord so defeated.

How did this come of you, my love?

The wings of the night flier swept me here.

Will you fly with me to the nest?

Nay, I am afraid I cannot, m’lady.

His lady looked upon him with loving, tender eyes, seeing how his fragile body was broken in the fall. He returned her look fondly, eyes not quite as bright as they once were.

The children…and them?

The children are safe, my lord.

Ah…that…that is good.

Stelleri’s eyes grew sad, looking upon his hopeless situation so. His lady saw this too. She nuzzled him tenderly, getting as close as she good.

The children must be hungry, sweet…

I’d suppose so.

They perched close together, Stelleri’s lady providing him support, and they wept together under the great tear of the sky, washed in silvered light.

I love you so, my brave, dashing, valiant lord…

And the next morning, our little Stelleri was nowhere to be found…

Did you expect this to be the end of the story? I’d hope not, for there is more to tell, for Stelleri had not perished for naught. Nay, that little bird made all the difference in the world.

Spring melted into summer, and the forest was as anticipatory as ever, still as the grave yet brimming with a vast multitude of small lives hither and tither. One of the most exciting time of year for the forest, truth be told. This was the time of the races, when the massive pillars in this hall of leaves watch fondly their offspring struggle against their cousins, striving to be the first to reach the sun, one to survive. So the rowdy tender treelings bantered at each other, clamoring to be in the lead in the sun of the clearing. They were so wrapped up in their fight for survival that the cousins did not see the their brothers in the shadows of the mother’s embrace. For, scattered throughout the great forest, ghosts sprung from the roots of it’s mother. They were quiet, these brothers, not saying a word and keeping out of the way of their cousins’ incessant clamouring. And, as the years went by, the bickering faded to a background murmer, lasping the great pillars into a fitful silence once again. The ghosts yet grew without a sound, and their phantom branches held the scant sunlight carelessly in thin, bony fingers.

The forest hid these white trees as best as it could. But the trees’ best wasn’t enough to deter the skin changers. They found the white trees, and the ghosts of Pillared Hall were not the creeping phantoms in the shadows anymore. The men chittered over these white trees, wondering how they could survive yet heralding their astonishing beauty. The ghost trees grew on, past the short lived chatterings of man and through the ever stagnant air of the forest, relying on their mother trees for nourishment and the sweet kiss of life.

The forest was different now; it stood taller than ever before, holding the sky in its’ branches and sheltering the still, anticipatory, moisture laden air in their shadows. Within the hall rules by darkeness the ghosts haunted, away from the gilded dapple of the sun’s rays, pale and striking against the dark around it. They were bigger, now. Never will the ghost tree of this dark hall be as tall as their ancestors, yet strongly they stand with all the pride in the world. The skin changers have long since forgotten this place….the ancient hall of pillars, and it had been many a year since they had brought their noisy monstors with them. Alone…forgotten. Forgotten by all, except for those small feathered folk, those onyx and cerulean robes nobles of the forest, the stelleri, who made their nests in the ever pale, bone white branches of the ghost trees, the ghost trees that the one small stelleri had brought into life, all those years ago.

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This is my rough copy of my original short story assignment in my creative writing class. I took a more fable like approach to it. Everything in this story is entirely plausible and realistic, if not entirely accurate. As for the scant dialogue...it's not meant to have quotations. Since when did birds actively speak english?

lol

Well, I would really appreciate some feedback/criticism/review on it (i.e. how to improve the ending bit...)

Thank ya for reading c;

[Aribis]

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