Blindfaller

Echo

The trees in the forest whistled and swayed in the afternoon wind and Jelena Linden laid back in the wide branch and closed her eyes. She could barely climb this high anymore, but somehow still managed. She wasn't as young as she used to be, she acknowledged as she felt her muscles protest. The drawback of living in the thick forest meant that there wasn't much sunlight at ground level. She'd always loved sunbathing but discovered early on that she needed to climb pretty high to accomplish that.

"Happy day, Wise Linden," her young student greeted her from the ground.

"Happy day, Young Melia. Are you ready for your lessons?"

Melia glanced toward the ground and kicked a rock out of the path. "Well, if it's okay, some of the others wanted to head to the valley and find grasses to make jewelry. Can we do our lessons later?"

Jelena looked at her young pupil with shock and dismay. The nerve! When she was a child she would never have dared speak to the wise ones this way.

"I'm disappointed that you have taken to the new ways, Melia. Are you so terribly unhappy here?"

"N-No, Wise Linden. It's just that--"

"No excuses. Either you want to take on our traditions of old, or you don't. I think you need to make a decision, don't you?"

Melia nodded and slunk down the path toward the hut for her lessons. Jelena watched her with the sad realization that if she and the other Wise Ones weren't careful they'd lose their way of life.

Jelena Lenden remembered the old life, the old ways. There was a time when the Wise Ones ruled the Young Ones with stern strictness. Now, the Wise Ones grew older, and each new generation grew more and more self-seeking and interested in modern ways, and the modern world outside of the forest.

She spent her youth among the pines, nestled deep in the safety and simplicity of her people, a tradition of worshipping the God that created their protective trees. It was a good life, a kind, and gentle life.

Then, two days ago, one of the Young Ones found the thing. It was just a small thing, no bigger than a leaf, but bright pink with a strange glass front that lit up when the Young Ones pressed a button. Images flashed on the screen and a strange, melodic noise spilled forth from the device. Jelena found the ghastly "thing" appalling, but the Youngs stared entranced. The youngs devoured the articles, pictures and songs that the thing fed them, but the battery indicator warned them that the "thing" would not last forever. It was dying.

Then things changed. The girls began to style their hair differently and paint their faces with berry juice, dandelion, and other colorful herbs found in their village. Vanity took ahold and threatened to steal their youth away.

Jelena feared for the future. Would they die out, her clan succumbing to worldly beauty and gain? She shuddered at the thought and climbed down from her tree to face the real world again. This had certainly not been a relaxing afternoon sunbathing.

The next morning, Jelena awoke with a start. Something was wrong. She always knew when trouble haunted the wood. A thick fog rolled in from the nearby lake and wound through the dense trees that formed her home. She prayed for wisdom in knowing which way to go. She felt a blackness tugging at her from the east and she headed toward the lake, a popular place for the Youngs to congregate and mingle.

The scene that unfolded on the sandy lake beach horrified the older woman. She'd never seen anything so gruesome. Before her lay the bodies of six of the Youngs, a mangled heap of appendages, ripped flesh, and sweet innocent faces, relaxed as though asleep.

Jelena screamed into the still air, then froze when she saw two things. First, a large set of prints in the sand that told her a grizzly bear had been here. Second, the "thing", it's screen flashed a low battery message that partially covered up a poorly written article about the latest craze. Something called the "choking game."

That explained why the youngs appeared so peaceful. The "game" had left them passed out in the sand when the bear came. She slumped down into the sand and brushed the hair from Melia's eyes. What a waste of life. For what? For modern "things"? For vanity, and pride, and foolishness?

Jelena caught movement out of the corner of her eye and turned to see a ghostly vision dancing in the slight breeze. The movements brought back memories from her childhood. She used to do this very dance during the tree festivals. A dance that the youngs found dull and stupid. Now, the ancient dance was lost. Jelena feared many of the old ways were gone forever now. During her trips to the treetops for sunlight, she'd long noticed how the civilized world crept closer and closer to their secret hamlet, large stretches of identical homes and shopping malls.

She closed her eyes as a tear tickled its way down toward her chin. Someday this sacred ground would be a parking lot. Someday the polluted air would turn mankind's lungs to dust, but today...

Today, Jelena rose from her spot, pressed a kiss onto the faces of the fallen, and returned to the people, to spread the bad news.
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913 Words

Author's Note ▼

The character names in this story have special "tree" related meanings.

Jelena: Derived from “jela,” the Slavic word for fir tree.
Linden: In Slavic mythology, the Linden was considered a sacred tree.
Melia: From the ancient Greek word “μελία,” meaning “ash tree.

Well I try to close my eyes
Clear my mind
Just listen to the wildflowers grow
Such whispers on the breeze
It don't come easy now
Overall this noise
Spent my youth among the pine
They used to sing a tune so fine
And the wind moved like an echo
Carryin' their voices
And I saw it in a dream
Monuments to trees
As the air we breathe turned our lungs to dust
And the redwoods so tall
And all their awe
Began to rust
With no bend and sway at all
That ancient dance is lost
And the wind moved like an echo
Beside every gust
Well someday I hope to find
That land of funny wine
Where the coffee grows on the white oak trees
And those sugar-coated mountains
In the spring begin to melt into
Sweetest streams
Where each night the starlight and the sea
Together form eternity
And the wind moves like an echo
As the world drops off to sleep