The forest rumbles, and small motions, dull and distant vibrations of thuds and creaks of movement echoing in the outside walls of home. A familiar click, click, click, summoning the come of daytime as a gust of wind breaches into the two swirling doorways. The gust gets gentler, as the breeze rises up into the bedspace of the neck of the forest home.
Within, the small sprite flutters her eyelashes as her eyelids open at the alarm of fresh air. Marble shimmering eyes, glowing in the darkness as she gains her morning bounds. The little sprite stretches and touches to feel the back of her tree; yawning before inhaling the sweet maple scent that warms her daily.
She rises and her wings unfold from her back, shaking off the weight of sleep. She feels for the ribs of the sturdy hardwood, moving down her shute to hover at the entrance of her home and gaze out and gain the light’s essence to freshen up. Her dainty body shimmies at the brisk air as her home fluently shifted its position and rose from gazing up directly into the giant spotlight of sun above her tree’s casket to a swift noon position. The sunlight directed warmth through the holes, and the shadow of her God’s hands brushed over her tree as they rubbed a nourishing oil to wax the delicate surfaces. Of the sweet maple of the rear of her home, the shute, and then down to where she watched those creative shadows swipe carefully down the forest spruce of the front.
A rumble sounded, and gentle pats as her tree graciously thanked their God’s delicate care. A soothing coo as it was tuned and the taut metallic vines which gave the sprite’s tree, companion, and home it’s voice. Daylight always brought happiness to her tree, as it sang to her beautiful homorhythmic compositions. It gave another light rumble, a vine vibrating as the tree cleared its throat and ensured harmony and perfect timbre.
The sprite smiled and flew back up to her room and prepared herself. She loved to watch the performance of her home, and hear the pleasure from the forest as the God orchestrated and showcased the event. She combed her golden maple hair, and ensured its shine and her cleanliness by the grace of her tree’s oils. She glided back down to the her f-shaped opening and peeked out near the vines to gently sweep her hand and perfume her wrists with the moisture and sweet mint of air the God provided earlier as the shadows of the clouds earlier coated her tree. Afterwards, she sat reclined on her open sill, nestling against the curved round where she could lazily rest her head. Her tree’s companion branch, awoke, his mane of hair, woven by horses and smelling of freshly nourished bristles waved hello. The little sprite beamed and waved her little hand out to him.
There was a commotion outside, further than her eyes could see as the sun above blinded any place in the vast world she did not need to venture. After all, she was the guardian of this forest, why would she travel far from it’s warmth? Her God towered, the Titan of the forest who’s face never could be seen due to how he shadowed the sun when he rose and embraced his favorite tree and encouraged his melodic voice to sing.
It was time, the tree and his dominant arm pressed to the vines of his chest. She reached out to gently pet the hair of him, the tree and his arm, for an encouraging show. He began, a hollow hum to gain the attention of the vast forest untouched by the sun. His voice swelled and sonorously sang a long note. The sprite smiled, melting into her spot, as she felt her home suck in air and vibrate from the belly as he strummed the vines to protrude out for all the forest spirits to hear. The vines shook, and his arm flowed with different amounts of pressure to conduct the perfect level of weight to the sound he wanted as he sung. There she sat, engulfing her daily bread of his ballad. He sang to her, to their God, for what always felt timeless. Hours, of getting lost in the breeze and timbre portrayed, until it was to become nightfall once more.
The forest spirits, whom her God displayed a proud silhouette showcasing her tree, applauded. Her tree pleased her God and his guests within her land once again, with thunderous rumbles of applause. Her forest floor shook beneath the earthquake of approval the spirit inhabitants howled at her tree. Offerings of roses showering her from the sky above. A petal which came off from a rather swift gift, caught in her vine. She reached out and gently grasped the silk and brought it close to her chest to hug and breathe in. With all these gifts, she could make a new dress, and oil the inside of the tree to soothe his throat until he next has to sing. She slipped out of her home, and flew around her tree happily: unaware how she sparkled under the entirety of the sunlight. She flew down to the earth floor, and inspected her homes footing, and gave the small ‘endpin’ a polish for it’s good work in keeping the tree upright. She collected the rose petals, delicately laying one atop the other in a smooth pile and then wrapping them in her arms, as many as she could carry. She retreated back to her tree, as the veil of red signaled sunset. Nestling back inside, secure, she stayed afloat as her tree's arm retreated once more, and her home signaled he was ready to slumber. He moaned tiredly, as he thudded into his hole where he rooted for their safety. The little sprite kissed the vines, and then kissed a side of her home in congratulations and thanks for his hard work, before going to set the petals where she could tend to his throat. His sheath rose, and the sun began its descent.
She yawns and stretches her arms above her head. After a long efficient work of tending to her home, and his throat and vines, she flew up to her room and curled into the opening where she slept against the maple spine. Her house yawned, and a breeze swept as the sun finally fell, with it the casket's sheath fully closed to encase her sacred home. The soothing click, click, click and outside grumblings of her God ensuring they were secure and out of harm’s way. The sprite’s wings stretched and then closed, tucking behind her back as she laid down, before curling around her little frame.
Until next time, when the sun rose, she would sleep sweet in the memory of this last song.
