Ariel sat on her magic pillow, legs crossed, and waited for her mother. In the quiet of distant rumbling she raised first her left hand and then her right; and, as if by magic, luminescent orbs of pinks and purples materialized, each floating as bubbles held aloft, it seemed, by nothing more than the belief of a young girl's heart.
"Daddy, come see my magic treehouse." Ariel smiled as if John were looking with admiration over her delicate shoulder. "Do you see the Bucklefinkels? They live in the pink house. And look. Shhhhhhh, be very quiet, the Dinkelberries are sleeping in the purple house and believe me, we don't want to wake them." Ariel giggled and her hands moved quickly as the magic treehouse grew and changed with her every motion.
"Ariel," called Cait, "who are you talking to?"
"Daddy," responded Ariel with a wave of her hair and a roll of her eyes as if the question was silly as only adults can be silly. "Who else would it be?"
"Honey, we don't have time for games. Are you packed?"
Ariel put her hands on her hips and the orbs faded. "Like a purple Dinkelberry."
Cait smiled. Dinkelberries. Daughter and father, one on lap and one weaving stories from thin air. "Come here Sweetie. Show me those Dinkleberries."
Ariel skipped over to her mother coming to a jump stop right in front of her. She clapped her hands quick as lightning and before misty eyes glowed colors bright. And, as if on stage, Ariel stood straight and tall and performed the magic of making memories as precious as royal jewels, or so would be said in thirty years hence.
41 comments:
Several things that I love dearly about this one. It brought to the foreground that you are very much an artist in every sense of the word, and you were so long before you began writing or creating. There is skill and then there is talent, one is learned, the other is natural. You have the skill but the extent of your innate talent is immense. Had I seen this image in a gallery, or without guidance at Trebuchet :-), I would be struck by its beauty, the amazing lights dancing within, the colours, it all. With the title such as it is written here, that sense of admiration would turn to fascination at the idea of what it is and it would be more. But to read a chapter such as this one, to see it brought to life, to see its movement, to see it through Ariel as she plays with it and Cait as she recalls the stories woven around it, times spent, the memories, it indeed takes on a magical quality I'm not able to simply describe. It stretches back to childhood, recollections of fantasy play and bedtime stories to a time where even fairies at the bottom of the garden were as real as anything seen with eyes and it stretches forward, via Cait also, to the wonder and pleasure one feels watching children at play now coupled with the sense of if not regret then nostalgia knowing how they are able to immerse themselves fully within this world of fantasy and magic and wishing one could still visit that place one more time. Yet that is what you do here, you invite us along to that place, at least it feels that way. :-)
How you do that has to do with what I have so often written here, about how real your characters are. Put simply, you write of men, women and children (hynerian etc of course) and if it makes any sense reading one feels the truth of those characters. Just as each of the others and just as each of the storylines were able to tell us (and the art) something about the type of person that you are, Ariel does that too, but the interactions between Papa and Kyra, between her parents and Ariel, magic pillows, owls and treehouses tell us something agian to put it simply about the type of adult that you are.
I had this vision of you as the story teller and old and young alike gathered around wholly engrossed in the magic you are able to weave. By magic. That's what it is, call it a gift, call it vasts amounts of creative talent, call it being a great storyteller, or better yet from now on, in my comments I'm going to call it the magic that lives inside of you.
The above is very much written with a great sense of wow, its a perfect chapter to let you know what you have here at DT, or rather what you give. You give us that place.
Beautifully written as always. Love the image, love it more with the story behind it.
Sweet and magical dreams, Poppet. :-)
Am I the only one who read the title as Trée-house? :)
a TREE house for sure. & Magical too. A fractal dream translated through the innocent eyes that can belong only to a child. Pink & purple hues and the dinkelberries and bucklefinkles. LOL! I like the names... dinkle and finkle have a tinkle to them just like they bring a twinkle to her eyes! :)
Mona, your wonderfully unique and insightful and creative comments bring a twinkle to my eyes. Of all the woman I know, you are one of them. :-D
And I'm a better man for the knowing. ;-)
Chicky, you can come to my Trée House anytime. I might even have some vintage red and two glasses waiting. I have two ears too and know how to use them. Here's the deal. I'll lend you my ears if you lend me your hands, warm and enticing of course. A slap or two wouldn't be frowned upon either. :-D
Sweetest, what can I say. I create an imagine and write a short chapter and then come back to see a gift at my blog in the form of a comment from you. You make me smile with your sincere engagement in the story like no other. You enrich the story for me with your observations and you add to the story in ways that make my heart warm and my cheeks hurt with joy.
When I read this chapter I think of the way children never lose their sense of play, regardless of the external circumstances. Cait knows they are above to be forced to either leave John or leave their world. Assuming John escapes execution, he will be a fugitive and will have no option but to leave with Bravo in an attempt to escape--that decision in and of itself will be difficult because John knows if he goes with Bravo, he will bring a world of hurt down upon them, but if he doesn't leave with Bravo he has virtually no chance of survival. So Cait has to make a choice. Does she say goodbye to her husband and the father of her child knowing he will never warm her bed again and Ariel will never sit on his lap and listen to his imagination weave stories or does she decide to leave everything she knows to travel to parts unknown in order to keep the union of spouse and child intact. The world or the family: that is her question. And in all that seriousness, she sees Ariel playing with the lightness and joy of a child, someone living in the moment, controlling what they can control, which as a child is usually very little. Ariel is ready to go. She is waiting on her mom. Instead of throwing a fit, she plays. And in the playing, Cait smiles and is reminded of the special relationship between parent and child, both John to Ariel and her to her daughter and of both John and herself to their one child. The memory becomes a jewel, a point of decision within the heart, a moment forever remembered as a turning point. :-)
Love it more with the greater description of that one significant memory. So much so some 18 hours later there's still a brimming of wanting to tell you in a hundred different ways that you are brilliant. :-) I'll spare you. This time. No promises for the next. :-)
Good Sunday afternoon to you, Tree !
I love that imagery of the magic treehouse, the pink and purple, and the dinkleberries !
Ooooh, I can see it just as Ariel describes it, Disney-magic like !
Very cool.
Genuinely,
Loving Annie
Annie, so good to have you back and writing. I absolutely loved your last post. As always, thanks for the kind words. Peace.
Oh Sunshine. Spoil me. I can take it. :-D
Wow! Your fractal is magical!
Thank you Saffy. Wanna join me in the treehouse? :-)
Count me in! Are you throwing in ice-creams and cream-cakes too?
For you Saffy, my hot little poppy doll, all the ice cream and cakes you want. :-)
Hi!
The memory becomes a jewel, a point of decision within the heart, a moment forever remembered as a turning point. ________________________
Those words will be etched in my mind.
[Just like others] This post took me back in time when i was Ariel's age where gnomes and fairies used to invade my dreams.But it's amazing how you can visualize dinkleberries and Bucklefinkles out of an image?
(*_*)
Uma
Goody, I'm scoping over. Actually, I've never been in a treehouse before, pathetic little city-bred being.
Autumn is so in-tune with the story, it's almost like she's the co-developer of what's gonna happen to Kyra and friends.
Thank you Uma. I have a few memories as precious as jewels. Such a pleasure to see you stopping by. Hope and trust you are well. :-)
Saffy, come on over. We'll have fun. As for Autumn and the story, I don't think I would be stretching the truth to say without her the story would have stopped a long time ago. There are times when I write knowing she is the only one that will read. I could not have found a more precious blog soul than my fantabulous Sweetest One. :-)
:-) Wouldn't have missed a moment for just about anything.
xo
Ohhhh Tree, that was an evil comment you left me this morning !!!! That is MY FAVORITE !!!! No fair !!! :)
Have a great Wednesday while I'm behaving like a lady tonight on my date ! waaaaaaaaaah, it's so hard being a good girl !
:) Loving Annie
Annie, I was only telling the truth. :-D
Have a great time on your date. I'm going to go ride my bike, and while I'm pumping away on my saddle, I'll think of you being a good prim and proper lady. Lace would be good, just so you know, and maybe pearls. :-D
Tree,
thanks for the visual, while I'm suffering here in a total hormonal frenzy !
It's going to be a pale pink cotton top and jeans, translucent pink polish on my fingernails and toenails...
And I'm not gonna tell you about my underwear... you're gonna have to keep reading my blog for that sort of info :)
Pink is good. Translucent pink is even better. :-D
Have a great time on your date Annie. I'll be visiting to see what happens next. :-)
Have you heard of the poor NZ boy whose pyjamas caught fire? Shocking, isn't it?
I haven't heard Saffy, but shocking it would be, especially for him I would think. :-D
Yup, I did a little googling and found pages devoted to the recall of china-made goods
Hi there,
my first visit here...ur blog looks tranquil, as intended:) I love the header image, and this story is so touching....took me down memory lane!!
Hi Mansi. Thanks for stopping by and taking the time to leave a comment, which is always much appreciated. The Story is over 20 months old and 140k plus words so if you have nothing else to do, jump in. :-D
Hope to see you around again. Take care. :-)
*Raises hand*
Did I remember you offering after hours lessons of some sort?
Maybe that was some other man with a hidden blog and ice cream on hand at a moments notice.
Lessons available whenever you are. :-)
Ice cream on me. Or on you, as the case may be. :-D
What's this about ice cream and a hidden blog ? Tree, you naughty man, you've been keeping screts from me :) !
Happy Monday the 27th to you !
Happy Monday to you too Annie. You know, I kinda like it when you call me naughty. There is just a certain way that you do it unlike any other. :-D
Hi!
Everything okay?
(*_*)
Uma
Doing just fine Uma. Thanks for asking. :-)
Even when you aren't here, you're still here. Still missing you though. Pleasant journey home when you get that far. Meanwhile, take care, and have a lovely day, x
It's Thursday the 30th, Tree !
Where are you, you naughty man :) ?
Maybe in the shower, hmmmmmm.... :)
Hope that all is well, and if we don't cyber-comment-speak, then have a great Labor Day weekend !
Annie, I'm heading to the shower now. Come with me. :-)
Have a wonderful Labor Day Weekend my newest naughty woman of wicked pen and sultry paper.
Sunshine, it never gets old to be missed and you always give me that wonderful gift when I am gone. Thank you Sweetest One. :-)
Magical :]
As are you Miladysa. :-)
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