This is a feature where I share one of my own stories. It may be a short story, poem, or a snippet of something I’m working on. Hope you enjoy!
The Mouse and the Willow
Once upon a time there was a willow tree. The Willow tree stood tall and beautiful in the middle of a field of wild flowers and a summer breeze would often pass through making the Willow dance.
All around the field were stately pine trees, and in these trees lived a mouse. The Mouse was a very true mouse. He did everything that mice were supposed to do. But most importantly he stayed in the safety of the stately pine trees.
Then one day while the Mouse was doing his mousy things, he looked up and saw the Willow. She was dancing to the song she hummed while the wind blew her leaves. The Mouse had never realized how beautiful the Willow was, and he sat on the edge of the stately pine trees staring and staring until he realized that the sun had gone and the moon now stood high in the night sky.
The Mouse blinked and scurried back to his nest but he could not forget the Willow dancing in the breeze. So as soon as the sun was up, the mouse went back to the edge of the stately pine trees to watch, once again, the Willow dance.
As he watched, he began to wonder if he went to the Willow, would she let him dance with her. But as soon as he thought it the Mouse shook his head and went back to his mousey ways. For the next 3 days he continued to live as he had always lived, but he could not forget the sound of the Willow humming. So once again, as soon as the sun rose in the sky, the Mouse went back to the edge of the stately pine trees to watch the Willow.
When the sun had gone back down, the Mouse went back to his nest, but could not sleep. He would roll this way and that, curl into a ball, then straight like a log, but the Mouse could not sleep. It was then he realized he could not stand one more day without the Willow. He had to see her, dance with her, sing with her.
So the Mouse had decided (and once a mouse decides something, he does not change it) in the morning he would once again go to see the Willow, but this time he would not stop on the edge of the stately pine trees, but continue till he had made it to the arms of the Willow.
With the sun’s rising, the Mouse raced to the edge of the stately pine trees and paused. He thought about his mousy ways, and mousey friends. What would they think when he left the safety of the stately pine trees. Would it be worth it? But then he heard the Willow and saw her dancing, and before he thought another mousy thought, dashed into the field of flowers.
The Mouse was little more than 10 strides in when he heard a new song. It was deep and haunting. Was this a new song the Willow had begun? The Mouse stopped for a moment to locate the singer of this new tune. He looked to the Willow but she stood in peaceful beauty. Then he looked at the wild flowers around him, but they too were silent. And then the Mouse looked to the sky and saw the dark vice of the Owls talons.
The Mouse turned and ran back to the safety of the stately pine trees. He had never seen the Owl before, and didn’t know why at that moment he had shown up, but the Mouse did know that he had to stay away from the Owl.
The Mouse turned to face the Willow in her field of flowers wondering if it was possible for a mouse to live with a willow. There was no guarantee that he would even make it to the Willow, and what happened if there was no place for him to live, would the Owl then get a hold of him? The Mouse continued to think about what to do next. If he stayed on the edge of the stately pine trees, he would be safe, and he would be better able to see the Willow dance, and to hear her sing. It all came down to life in the safety of the stately pine trees, or living with the willow in the field of flowers. Could one really be better than the other? And there the mouse continued to sit and wonder which would be better: the stately pine trees or the field of flowers? And that is where I left him, for a willow can not wait forever on a dancing partner.
For something simple is rarely easy.