Flash Friday #3: Chronicles of Telfir, the writer

Saturday Dec 12 2009

Standing in the forest, I take a look around, the majesty and age of the trees succinct, they give life, shelter and wood for heat. There can be no more a stable diet of life, life without noise or chaos. A Life ordered in nature’s infinate way, slow and methodical. A good place then, for writing my book, amidst the crystal clear air and quiet shuffles of animals through the brown and gold of the autumn leaves for their next meal. Sunlight shafts explode through the canopy, adding to the atmosphere. It begins to rain now – Nature’s cleanser.

As it hits the leaves and the under-brush below, the unmistakeable musk that breathes fresh air into the world enters my nose. You can’t help but clear your mind here, all that circles your mind is calmed by the ageless woodland around you.

The rustling sounds closer now, a nearby rustling of leaves. From underneath the detritus, pokes a little nose, wet long and furry – it wrinkles up in miniature movements, it smells the breadcrumbs I supposed, the very same ones I discarded a moment ago.
Pickings must be slim for it at this time of the year. In but one moment, four stocky little legs with glistening black fur gave way to a gentle brown coloured body, round and dumpy – just the right shape for its legs.

I outstretched my hand in friendship, the animal doesn’t look to be a threat, and clearly doesn’t eat meat, no teeth. It approaches me, its long nose sniffing at my face, clearly its still looking for some food. Slowly, I move my hand towards its fur, so very slowly – so as not to cause it to start and run away. Its fur was so soft, I could tell why people chose to hunt these animals. I’d seen many like it before, but all dead. It saddens me that people would selfishly take this animals life to keep the fur for themselves.

There was a sudden shot in the distance (BANG) and the animal ran away, it must have been terified, and with good reason – heck I was. I felt the air cooling against my skin and just as I noticed that, the light dimmed a little, it was time to leave. The light was fast fading and I knew I’d left it too long to come back, I wanted to explore where the shot came from but when my muse hits, time disappears into a vacuum, usually passing way quicker than I perceived. It must be something about writing that causes it. I wasn’t far from the glade, but I had went off the trail some way and I very nearly couldn’t find my way back to the trail. If only it wasn’t so damned hard to get a place of peace, maybe, just maybe my writing could be completed. The plague was racing through most of the towns anyway, so where better to spend some time than in the wilderness where no one comes around to spread the plagues ill tidings upon me.

Certainly, my novel wouldn’t thank me if I died. It has an astonishing force of will to have me hanging on as long as I have. It speaks to me, coerces me down its dark passageways and twists of plot. The world needs this story, only it doesn’t know yet – heck I don’t even, all I know is what must be written. The pictures are so clear in my mind. (BANG) Dammit!

Oh, I hope the little guy is safe, life for those little creatures whilst simple is not without its own terrifying dangers. Imagine being threatened with your very life almost every time you woke to get food – yeesh, sometimes I’m glad I’m human and other times I find myself envying the simple life of the creatures, I guess there are benefits to both – it’s freezing and we humans don’t have any fur.

Now that’s a sound I never tire of hearing, the distant rhythmic rumble of the waterfall at the glade always eases my soul and helps me focus, the way it always changes but also stays the same is hypnotic. I could listen to it for hours, but the daylight is fading fast and I need to get back to Mable at home, she always misses me terribly when I go to write. I always tell her that it’ll be okay and not to worry, but half the time I don’t think she hears me. The sound of the waterfall is closer now, my horse should be around here somewhere…(WHISTLE) (WHINNY)

Ah, there he is – Bolt. He’s always been a friend of mine, been with me for years, don’t ask me why he chose to stick around so long – no better offers I guess. How are you boy?


Yes, I know its cold. We should head back now, can we ride?


Thank you, lets away.

The rain thrummed on my back like so many small pebbles hitting the surface of the water. Soon be home to Mable, she’ll have it at me for being late and soaked – sigh.


After arriving at home, I was soaking wet and I must have cursed too loudly when I landed on the puddle because then the damned lock wouldn’t budge. The door was mocking me. I would mock it back, but I was just too damned tired to try.

Eventually, the door opened (I asked it nicely) and Mable hadn’t moved from the fire. She was sulking.

Ha! she wont be sulking when I put her dinner out. Sure enough, when the clatter of that steel bowl hit the kitchen top – in bounded Mable, her grumpy demeanour seemed to have vanished. Her brown fur was slightly singed.

Have you been too close to that fire again?

Ahh, women – can’t live with them, can’t live without them.


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