|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Wed Mar 12, 2025 1:45 pm
The Swamp is Mine The murky waters of Elehun lapped lazily against the gnarled roots of the cypress trees, their tangled limbs stretching like skeletal fingers into the thick, humid air. The scent of damp earth and rich decay filled Anaru’s lungs as she crouched on a moss-covered log, watching the flickering lights of lightning bugs dance over the surface of the swamp. The world here was slow, but Anaru? Anaru moved as fast as she pleased.
She grinned, her barbels twitching with excitement. Tonight was her night. The other menehune children might have been content playing near their stilted homes, but not Anaru. She had bigger plans.
Behind her, two other children shifted uneasily. “Anaru… are you sure this is a good idea?” asked Talu, a round-faced boy with cool brown skin and wide, uncertain eyes. His small fingers toyed anxiously with the hem of his tunic. “My Nana says the deepwater belongs to them.”
Anaru rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. “And?”
“And they eat people,” piped up the other child, Miri, her voice a hushed whisper. Her dark green hands clutched the wooden post of the old fishing dock they were hiding behind. “Big things live in the mud. I heard old Puna say they don’t leave bones behind.”
Anaru snorted, standing up to her full height—which, while impressive for a child, was still not much. “You two are just scared because you believe every little story the elders tell you. ‘Don’t go into the deepwater, Anaru!’ ‘Don’t steal from the bonepile, Anaru!’” She mimicked the elders’ raspy voices with exaggerated disgust. “It’s all just to keep us from having fun.”
Talu swallowed hard. “But what if it’s not?”
Anaru let out an exaggerated sigh, placing a hand dramatically over her heart. “Then I’ll be the one to prove it’s nothing but a stupid tale. And you two? You’ll be the lucky ones who get to say you knew me before I became a legend.”
Miri and Talu exchanged uneasy glances, but before either could protest, Anaru was already moving, hopping across the uneven planks of the dock. Her bare feet barely made a sound as she approached the biggest fishing trap the village had set—one meant for real hunters, not just little fish or mud eels. It was half-submerged in the shallows, woven tightly with reeds and thick rope, filled to the brim with something wriggling inside.
Perfect.
Anaru grinned as she untied the knots securing the lid. “I bet they caught something good in here. Probably a giant snapper. Maybe even a river beast.” She turned back toward her reluctant audience. “And when we let it go, we’ll say we saw it up close and—”
A deep thud rattled the wooden beams beneath them.
The laughter died in her throat as the entire dock shifted underfoot. Miri gasped. Talu yelped.
Then something massive moved in the water beneath them.
For the first time that night, Anaru hesitated.
The water bubbled.
And suddenly, the old fishing trap snapped in two.
A gaping, shadowy form lunged from the depths—a flash of thick, ridged scales and a gnarled snout filled with teeth. Anaru stumbled backward just as the wooden dock splintered beneath her feet.
“RUN!” Miri shrieked.
For once, Anaru didn’t argue.
She scrambled up onto the bank, mud sucking at her ankles as she bolted toward the nearest tree, Talu and Miri right behind her. They didn’t stop until they reached the safety of the village fires, panting, wide-eyed, drenched in swamp water.
Talu doubled over, hands on his knees. “You were saying?” he gasped between breaths.
Anaru huffed, wringing out her soaked tunic. “Fine,” she muttered. “Maybe there’s something in the deepwater.”
Miri glared at her. “That thing nearly ate you!”
Anaru sniffed, lifting her chin. “Nearly isn’t the same as did.”
Talu threw his hands up. “Unbelievable.”
But as Miri scolded her and Talu huffed in exasperation, a slow grin crept across Anaru’s face.
Because now she had a story.
And if she told it right, the whole village would be talking about how Anaru—the bravest of them all—had come face to face with the monster of the deepwater and lived.
Maybe even fought it off.
Yes. That sounded much better.
With a smirk, she dusted off her hands and started toward the village. “Come on, then,” she called over her shoulder. “We’ve got a story to tell.”
Miri groaned. “You’re impossible.”
Anaru only laughed.
Because tomorrow? The whole village would know her name.
And that, after all, was exactly what she wanted.
(Word Count: 754)
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Mar 12, 2025 1:47 pm
What Good is Magic? Anaru crouched near the doorway, chin resting on her arms, watching her mother work.
The apothecary was filled with the scent of damp herbs and crushed petals, the air thick with the perfume of wild plants pulled from the swamp. Glass bottles lined the shelves, some filled with murky liquids, others glittering with crushed minerals that shimmered when the light hit them just right. Her mother moved between them with practiced ease, grinding something deep green into paste before carefully scraping it into a clay pot.
Anaru wasn’t supposed to be here. She knew that. Her mother didn’t like distractions when she worked. But she wasn’t distracting anyone—she was just watching.
Magic.
People came from all over their little patch of Elehun for it. To cure sickness, to ease pain, to ward off whatever bad omens they thought lurked in the dark water. Her mother gave and gave, hands stained with crushed roots, face lined with quiet patience. She brewed her potions, whispered her blessings, and sent people away with little pouches filled with swamp-dried remedies.
And for what?
Anaru’s barbels twitched as she wrinkled her nose. What did her mother get from all this? She didn’t ask for more than a handful of goods in trade, even when the potions she made worked miracles. The people left healed, whole, better. And they walked away without ever thinking about the hands that had mixed their cure, never worrying about how many late nights her mother had spent bent over her work, never knowing the names of the plants she had spent years memorizing.
I’d never waste my time like that.
Helping people didn’t get you anything. It didn’t make them respect you. Not really. They only came when they needed something. Anaru saw it all the time.
She propped her chin up, watching as her mother poured a thick, violet liquid into a small wooden bowl, steam curling from its surface. The color fascinated her—it shimmered like the crystals buried in the roots of the swamp, deep and mysterious. Now that’s something worth knowing.
Maybe magic was useful. But not the way her mother used it.
If she learned to make these potions, to mix the right plants and pull power from the earth, she wouldn’t give it away like some noble cause. She’d make sure people remembered her name when they took her help. She’d make sure they owed her.
A slow smirk tugged at her lips.
Yes. That was the kind of magic worth having.
(Word Count: 417)
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Mar 12, 2025 1:49 pm
Brew of Greatness Anaru hunched over a hollowed-out log, squinting as she swirled the murky water inside with a stick. The log had collected rainwater days ago, and she had decided it was the perfect cauldron for her work. The surface rippled as she added another handful of crushed leaves and stirred them in with exaggerated care.
“A pinch of moonvine, a dash of swampberry…” she muttered under her breath, pretending the torn weeds she had yanked from the riverbank were something more powerful. She dipped her fingers into the mix and flicked a few drops onto a flat stone beside her. “And there! A potion to make anyone listen to me.”
She grinned, her barbels twitching in satisfaction. This was her kind of magic—the kind that made people do what she wanted.
The potion needed more, though. Something rare. Something important. She scanned the area, eyes narrowing on a fat mud beetle skittering across the damp earth.
“Perfect.”
She plucked the beetle up before it could escape, holding it high in the air like a prized ingredient. It wiggled frantically between her fingers, tiny legs kicking uselessly.
“Sorry, little guy,” she said, not sorry at all. “But this is for the greater good. My good.”
With a dramatic flourish, she dropped it into the log.
The beetle flailed, the water sloshed, and suddenly the whole “potion” took on a new, awful smell. Anaru recoiled, waving a hand in front of her face.
“Eugh! Gross!”
She wrinkled her nose, watching the water swirl, now carrying bits of half-dissolved leaves and beetle legs. Maybe potions weren’t as easy as they looked.
But… it still looked impressive. The dark water, the strange floating bits—it could be magic if she said it was.
And that was enough.
With a proud little smirk, she stood, wiped her hands on her tunic, and declared, “Potion complete.”
No one was around to hear her.
Didn’t matter.
One day, they all would.
And when that day came, they wouldn’t just listen. They’d follow.
(Word Count: 333)
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Mar 12, 2025 2:12 pm
What the Tide TookKalpana & AnaruPRP
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
