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story #2

White rose, Red rose

Once there lived a boy who lived the sea. His parent’s didn’t know it, but this boy loved to talk to faeries. He would wake early in the morning and go to his window and call “Is it nice outside?” and the Faeries would answer “It is raining; do not go out,” or “It is sunny! Come and play!” Now, because his father was a sailor, the boy often asked about the weather at sea. This became such a habit, that he would do so even when his father was home.
Well, often when men grow up, they forget about the adventures they have had as children, but this boy did not. soon the boy became a man, and still he spoke with his Faerie friends. One day, this saved his father’s life, and many others besides. The morning was beautiful, but as was his habit, the man consulted the faeries before going about his day. “Good day, faerie friends, how is the weather today?” “Come play while you can,” they replied, “for it will soon be a-storming!” so the man went out and played until nearly noon, and then he returned to his home for lunch. As he walked up the sandy path, a faerie flew up to him, speaking so fast that it was unintelligible. He held the faerie patiently, as the small thing regained its breath. “Huge storm,” it gasped, “Coming this way! Warn everyone!” astonished, the man thanked the faerie and ran down to the town square. “A storm,” he cried, “A large storm is headed this way! We must all get to shelter!” But the villagers all laughed, and passed it off as a childish imagination, after all, they all knew how odd he was as a child. They asked him, “Where did you hear this? Why should you know of such a thing?” So the poor man ran back home, dejected and worried.
Now, on this day every year, the fishermen set out to the deep parts of the sea, for in this season, there were great shoals of a rare species of carp. But this species seemed to be limitless, for no matter how many they caught one year, there was always more the next time around! So this was a day of celebration for the villagers, for it brought the best of their livelihood. But minutes after the villagers had laughed at the man, another villager who had heard the man shouting decided to be sure. And he saw on the horizon the tell-tale sign of a storm! soon, this villager was seen running to the village square. He rang the huge bell that hung there, signaling that a storm was on its way. All the villagers were astonished. Was it possible? The man had been right! Everyone crowded into their basements to weather the storm.
It was the worst storm the village had seen in hundreds of years. It howled and raged for thirty days! When the storm finally exhausted itself, the extent of the damage done to some of the buildings was almost irreparable. But they managed somehow. It turned out to be a bad year full of storms, but because of his faerie friends the man was able to predict them all consistently. Eventually the young man became an old man, thin and wrinkled. But he never forgot his faerie friends. Even in his old age, he would still ask if the ocean weather was clear. But then he became sick, and could no longer come to his window, but was confined in his bed. His faery friends missed and loved him, and they knew he would still wish to know of the weather at sea. So one night they visited him in a dream. “White is for the clear day, Red means dark as night,” they told him. The next day when he awoke, he found a white rose on the table beside his bed. His young grandson began to wonder where the rose came from, so he asked the old man. The old grandfather told him of the faeries, and at first the boy did not believe him. But he could not find any other explanation for it, so he decided to believe his grandfather.
But the next day, the old man awoke to find a red rose, in place of the white one. “Grandson! Grandson! Come here, child,” the old man was frightened. “You must run down to the village square and tell everyone that I said a storm is coming.” The young boy did this, and the villagers, all knowing what the boy said was true, were safely able to weather the storm. But the boy was worried. All through the howling of the tempest outside, he had the feeling that he had forgotten something. As the storm abated, his mind became clear again, and he realized what he had forgotten. As he ran up the hill to his grandfather’s house, the boy began to weep, for he knew that no matter how soon he got there, he would still be too late. The boy ran through the front door, and into his grandfather’s room, then collapsed on the edge of the bed. Sobbing, he reached up to the pillow where his grandfather’s head once lay. There was no sign of the old man, but there was a note on the pillow, and attached was the red rose from earlier that day. The note read ‘Grandson, you know what you must do. I have gone with my friends. Someday, you may follow, but for now, you must carry on my duty. You are the Stormkeeper now. Take care and farewell.’ And so it is to this day this that the young boy, who is now also an old man, watches over his town with the help of his faerie friends.

-Fin-