Weeping Willow
Back in 10th grade, we had one particular assignment where we had to create a myth, how something orginated. Weeping willows were my favorite tree - they still are. I decided to choose this tree and create a little story on how it came to be. This has been revised once or twice maybe; the last time I revised it it made the plot a little more in depth.


The girl's voice was clear and sparkling, like a newly discovered crystal each time she parted her lips and sang that enchanting melody she was so perfect at doing. She sang with all of what her spirit allowed her to remember from the ballad of the past that celebrated this special occasion that came once every fall season when the leaves changed to crimson and gold. Her fluid words told of a struggle to save the forest, the one where the trees tried to cling to life, the adversaries of the area being humans who did not care about cutting and tearing things down if it was in their way. Her people, the gossamer, winged fairies, protected what land they held so dear and in the final decision, their queen enchanted the forest so that any force who so dared to remove a tree from its roots would find their soul wandering aimlessly lost forever. The humans stopped destroying and took more care as to not loose anymore victims. On this evening, the girl, Willow, sang this song of her people and everyone before her listened transfixed, their eyes locked on her form and their ears touched every word.

As if the bells of the heavens themselves stopped ringing, when her song ended, everyone's heart felt much purer, remembering what their sole purpose was in the land. There was steady applause and Willow dipped softly, bowing on her stage, the butterfly-like wings on her back stretching out behind her slightly in the gesture. A smile spread across her lips as she rose to her full height pleased with what joy she could bring her relatives and family. She didn't know much in her eleven years of life, but she knew this song was something she cared dearly about to do each and every autumn festival.

When her feet moved from the small stage, people then finally started to get up and celebrate once more. Musical instruments were heard, woodwinds and strings playing uplifting beats as the fairies danced around in rings, the stars in the sky shining as bright as their spirits. Others ate and chatted while Willow herself fell back into the comfort of the forest, her hands folded together in front of her, moving one foot after another as if they knew where to go all along. She left into the comfort of the woods, unaware that a different pair of curious eyes watched her sing tonight from afar.

The forest smelled of fresh rain and out died the joyous song of the festival and in came the tune of the crickets, their repetitive, yet comforting sound filling the air. Every moment she stepped foot onto her homeland seemed more magical then the next, until that hand reached out and swiftly grabbed her arm, making her footsteps stumble in their tracks. She yanked and pulled trying to get away. Some one was hiding behind a bush, trying to pull her towards them and her voice which was so bright tonight, could not be heard anymore. It was lost somewhere in between wanting to scream and the suspense of wanting to know who tried to capture her. In these days, there were those cruel people who hunted fairies for their wings because much magic was held in them, something humans could not possess themselves. In their jealousy they cared not that the separation of a fairies wings from their backs resulted surely enough in death, just that they could have a taste of this power of their own.

But it was not the case. The grip in her arm loosened, making Willow fall back slightly, and the person behind the bush stood slowly on their feet. She looked up, her green eyes changing from scared to curious and then to relieved as her forbidden, human friend revealed himself. The friend she had spent nights running through the forest and playing chasing games with, the one who listened to her songs but was not of her kind, was the one who held his hand out to her now, to help her up and she took it with warmth in her fingertips. She stood back up with perfect posture and with a nod back towards her village, he grinned.

"The song was really pretty," he said looking down at his feet as shy as ever which he usually did when she sang to him. He didn't know what she sang about was directly against his kind, only that like her people, the song made him feel peaceful.

But they didn't dwell on the subject of it very long. Instead they were off again, running carefree, the hours going by. She talked about what she did today and about her home, painting him images of a beautiful, rich life with her words. And he listened usually, because he didn't want to fill her with the dreary landscape that he lived with day by day. Instead, the moon started to fall, and the sun began to climb the horizon, leaving a trail of red and orange behind it as the sky gradually faded into blue, and Willow and the young boy parted ways, both to go back and sleep at the separate worlds they belonged in.

As with the time of fall and after the festival, the fairies began to ready themselves for a frigid winter season where the life in the forest would be covered with a thick, blanket of white snow. Their homes where prepared and their clothing was changed to keep them warm. There were never any fireplaces, because cutting the trees down for wood was unheard of and seen as wrong. Instead, they relied on an inner warmth.

Willow worked diligently on knitting some gloves to keep her hands warm, but her mind couldn't seem to concentrate and when she remembered the time, she knew her friend would be waiting for her soon enough. This time she seemed to leave in secret, escaping her village into the forest, where they met at their usual spot near their favorite tree. The tree they sat and watched sunrises without a word of speech, was without leaves this morning as the first snowfall began. The boy looked up hopelessly into the bleak, gray sky as his eyes fell vacant and his blonde hair pushed back from his cheeks. Willow watched on as his head seemed to drop into despair.

"You've got something to tell me?" she asked.

"Yeah..." he replied. "Winter's cold."

Her head titled curiously, and her lips faintly lifted into a smile. "I know. But you look so... sad?"

"I, well, there's no place to go home to ever. I'm alone."

At that moment, she felt sorry for him and for herself for never knowing that he was even so isolated from his own world. She didn't ever know that he had been left abandoned on orphanage steps when he was five. The orphanage keepers didn't stand for unruly, adventurous children, especially when their beds were full enough as it was. When they found out he had been sneaking off late at nights to visit his secret friend, they kicked him out and let him on his own.

"See if he learns," they scolded.

But he forgot about it when Willow took him by the hand and said, "Follow me."

And so he did, right into her village, people watching, dropping things and their mouths, faces written with shock and above all things, disgust. Willow bowed her head, but she was not ashamed of the only person she felt a true friend who tagged along with uneasy footsteps. They disappeared beyond the door of her house and Willow sat down to began knitting two pairs of gloves this time. The boy stepped into a corner, where he couldn't be seen through the windows. Willow opened her mouth to say something, but it was different and she struggled to find comforting words for him. Anyway, even if she did say something, there was a knock on her door and she was summoned to see the queen while her friend waited behind in silence.

The distance she ran carefree with her companion seemed to be shorter in length from the silent trail she followed to the queen's quarters. When she got there, Willow was not the same person the queen had admired for her songs any longer. She was some one who had broken trust and let a stranger into the pact. He wasn't just a boy. He was a human, and just as harmful as any other.

"I'm sorry," Willow explained. "He had nowhere to go, and I thought that with that cold winter and all, that well... You see what I mean, you understand, right?" She gazed up at the queen who appeared a mother to all her people, and let her eyes be as forgiving as they could be.

"You know what you have done, correct? This was uncalled for. I should-"

"Please!" Willow said breathlessly. "Just one winter. He's my friend. I promise, nothing will go wrong."

"Just one winter? If he does anything wrong, he could pay for the consequences with his life. Do you understand?"

"I do," she nodded and her footsteps fell back some, wanting to leave for the embarassment she felt.

"Then... as long as you know, let him be reminded as well."

Willow clasped her hands together and with new light in her eyes, turned and ran all the way back to her home to tell her friend of the news. It was just one winter he would be allowed to stay, but it was one winter that would be better than the rest. She hoped and prayed so anyway.

Winter came in full force and frosted over the land without warning. The days of snow seemed endless and the rebirth of the forest seemed to drag on until forever. Spring was further and further away and inside Willow's comfortable, little house she suffered from a man made sickness, a cold that she would have never gotten otherwise if she didn't have a human visitor. She swore she felt fine to ease her troubled friend, but she shivered underneath the covers of her bed, barely able to even talk let alone sing, until her friend could take no longer. He left with the things she had knitted for him with one thing on his mind, the intent to make his friend warm.

An axe was taken from along the human road of a town he recalled begging food for on many occasions. In the blinding snow, he found his way to a tree that he did not know was their favorite, the one that carried the memories of the two children within strong branches. And for as long as he could for as many hours as he kept up his strength, the tree finally fell and firewood was chopped up for his dear friend Willow. When he began to gather it up and leave, his mind felt blank and he knew not where to go. He couldn't remember which way Willow was or which way the human town was. So, he headed in every direction he could have thought of, circling the forest with numbness that finally made his arms drop, and his little body fall into the snow.

Willow awoke from her illness by a knock and she was taken to the queen again. Her feet seemed to drag on with worry, wondering what the queen wanted. Better yet, her mind swarmed with questions as to where he friend was. He was gone when her eyelids opened. When she got to the queen, she understood, her heart sinking further than her feet and below the earth.

"He's lost forever," the queen said. "Because of you."

"No..." Willow sobbed, dropping to her knees. "Please, let me do something. Anything I can do to help make things better. It's all my fault!"

The queen looked down at the girl with drooping wings and felt a pity overcome her, for she knew that soon enough, she would no longer hear this girl's song. It would be gone with the past fall and some one new would take her place next season. Some bright, strong voice almost as good. No one had ever been as good as Willow.

"You know what you have to do," the queen answered.

Willow nodded and stood, wiping her nose with the back of her hand and looked at the queen with a final apology. Her body turned and moved towards the exit, out past her village, into the forest that led herself to the broken tree. With shaking feet and legs, she stood on top of the tree's stump and let her arms hang out. Tears slid down her face forever and dropped to the ground beneath her feet. Her auburn hair hung low around her waist as vines began to connect her and the tree stump, climbing up around her body, but she did not move. Bark patched over her skin, arms separated and branched off into many others, and her being lengthened to a tall height that dwarfed nearly all the other trees in the forest in a spirit that resembled the young fairy. From the tops of the transforming tree, long green vines hung down like the curtain of the stage Willow sang on, and once the final leaf formed, Willow's soul broke and the fallen boy awoke, startled.

He gathered his wood again like nothing had ever came over him and began to remember things. The first thing that came to his mind was Willow and how scared and alone she must feel. He shook his head at himself, wondering how he could have ever seen it fit to nap in the dead of winter. Heading back towards her, he found her not there and with worry and regret inside his heart, he knew she had gone to look for him. So, he left as well. br />
He searched as long as he could, his body breaking down from the tired feeling in his bones. He finally came to stop at the newly formed tree over their old meeting place, but he did not think much about it. Instead, he sat down, leaning against the strong trunk, and thought to wait for her. One day they would meet here again, he thought, and with that dream in his mind, he fell asleep forever, not knowing that his fairy friend was watching him closely from behind.

The tree stood as vibrant in the winter as it did in the summer and spring and they say on certain days, when the wind blows freely, that Willow's song can be heard whispering through the vines, singing to her friend that became one with the earth below in his final resting place. She would cry eternally, for as close as they were, she could never touch him again. She could never hold his hand or tell him that she sang only in hopes for him to hear. She would watch, and his soul would dream of when they would meet again and what games they would play when they would come together. On certain occasions, travelers who stopped to rest beneath her cool shade would leave quickly, haunted by the image they swore they saw of a girl's face inside the tree bark. They left feeling as sad and lost as both children were in their meeting place at the end of their mortal lives. And so they called her the Weeping Willow.