Green-Oak-Wood Grave

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Page name: Green-Oak-Wood Grave [Exported view] [RSS]

Version: 1

2006-06-19 23:10:43

Last author: Delladreing
Owner: Delladreing

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“The woods are lovely dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.”
~Robert Frost

The Sun rose over the hill and the world awoke with it. Both people and animals of Green-Oak-Wood-Glen began their daily lives, and in the trees birds began to twitter back and forth, greeting the new dawn with the rising sun. Just outside the village stood a lone farm surrounded by thick woodland with golden and green fields far as the eye could see. Wild flowers grew freely all over the place but thickest around the giant oak tree at the very heart of the clearing.

Green-Oak-Wood Farm had been there since before the village, it was as much a part of the woodland as the trees themselves. It was a beautiful place, the sort you'd expect to see in a fairytale. It was always busy with the sound of men laughing and joking as they worked the fields. The kitchen radiated warmth and the smell of freshly baked bread as the women chattered away like the birds in the trees. The owner of the farm was a good and kind man who cared more about his workers well being rather than extracting every last ounce of work out of them; people respected him for that, just as they'd respected his father before him, and his father before him.

The family was an old family with high morals and standards and kept to traditions long since lost by other folk. They had been in these parts for a very long time and had no intention of leaving. It was a joke amongst the Greenwood family that their “roots” were here; nobody else understood the joke of course but it was just “one of those things” By tradition the Greenwood family was a large one, it meant free labour on the farm, as Mr Greenwood was fond of saying. What was the point of owning a large farm and not having your children do most of the work? At the moment there were only six children but another would soon be on its way. The farm was literally alive with noise and the hustle and bustle of everyday life. But for one family member it was becoming too overwhelming.

She was fond of the farm, of course she was, but she was afraid she was about to suffocate in the constant sound of nattering. She emerged from the kitchen door and literally ran across the farmyard and towards the giant oak tree, where everything grew wild and free. Just like she wanted to be.

Fionn Greenwood was a pretty girl, there's no possible way of denying it. But there's something odd about her. She may be young but there was something almost old about her as if she belongs to another time. Old perhaps is not the best word here- for in no way is she a day over fourteen- but she almost seems…timeless. She has that detached sense about her, as if time has no real meaning. Her hair is the same colour as autumn leaves with warm honey coloured streaks running through it. She has that wonderfully pale complexion associated with dairymaids, even though she despises cows and wont go near one for neither love nor money! But her most striking feature has to be her eyes. They are a startling blue colour at the centre and gradually fade out to an almost violet-lilacy colour at the edges. Her mother nicknamed them “Granny's Eyes” for no one save Fionn and her grandmother had ever had such eyes before. Fionn was almost identical to her grandmother in every way- save the honey coloured streaks in her hair which where the only thing she had gotten from her mother. That's why she felt so close to her, even though she had died when Fionn had only been a baby. That's why Fionn visited the oak tree so often- her grandmother was buried beneath it.

Fionn sat beneath the giant oak tree, grateful for the shade it provided. She kicked off her shoes and wriggled her toes into the moist earth, picking wild flowers to give to her mother. She sighed as she allowed the comforting silence to envelop her. Above her in the tree a sparrow began to sing as though his heart was breaking. She'd have to remember to bring something out for him the next time she was here. The wind blew and the branches swayed gently as though dancing. Fionn smiled, she liked it here, it was her place. Well hers and gran’s. She reached over to the large clump of forget-me-nots that grew only under this tree. She gently stroked the tiny petals; no one picked these, they marked the exact spot where “Grandmother Iohan” was buried; no one had planted them, they had just appeared. Iohan Greenwood had always said the earth was in her bones and now her bones were in the earth. Fionn leaned back against the tree and shut her eyes, listening to all that was around her, feeling the warmth of the sun touch her face. She'd never be certain, but right before she fell asleep she thought she heard the sound of laughter and someone singing: “The woods are lovely dark and deep, But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep…”

A girl awoke with a start beneath the oak tree. Her hair was the colour of autumn leaves, her skin like porcelain and her eyes were a startling blue shading to lilac. Iohan Greenwood sat back against the tree, fragments of songs and poems danced around the inside of her head like fireflies on a starry night. She looked up at the sky to see the evening moon rising. How long had she been asleep? Long enough for the farm to quieten down at any rate. Iohan was the eldest of seven and the noise was unbearable at time. God only knew how much she loved them all but did they have to be so noisy? She looked up at the towering branches of the oak tree. Father reckoned he was only a hundred years old, which was quite young for an oak in these parts. But to Iohan he seemed as timeless as the universe itself. She noted that one or two leaves were turning red, autumn was coming early then. She patted the tree fondly and struggled up onto her feet, retrieving her abandoned shoes from the grass. She walked barefoot back to the farm singing about the woods and how lovely, dark and deep they were.

Seasons passed, leaves changed from red to bare branches.
Iohan kicked herself a path through the snow. It had fallen very deep during the night. The only thing that wasn't completely submerged in the thick white blanket of snow was the branches of the oak tree, which reached up naked to the sky. When Iohan reached the tree she began to climb up it like a cat. No easy task when you're bundled up in a thick jacket and even thicker gloves, hat and scarf to boot! She sat on the lowest branch letting the snow settle around her, looking for all the world like a snowman who had decided to climb a tree. A little robin came to rest next to her and bobbed its way toward her. Iohan laughed happily. She loved birds, they were so free and could sing so beautifully. For some reason they never took flight when they saw her. It was almost as if they though she was part of the tree herself. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a bag of crumbs left over from this morning's bread. She held out her hand to the little red-breasted bird and watched in delight as it hopped onto her gloved hand and pecked away at the crumbs. Someone shouted her name nearly causing her to fall out of the tree. The robin whistled a goodbye and flew away. Iohan looked round to see her father standing at the kitchen door motioning to come back in less she catch her death out here. Iohan sighed and clambered down the tree. She began to run toward her father turned back momentarily to wave at the tree and then turned back to her father who was patiently holding the door open for her.

Seasons passed threefold and the leaves were a summer green.
The heat of the noon sun beat down on the land making everything dry and baked. All except the oak tree. Beneath the oak tree, in the shade of the lush foliage Iohan is sitting. She is talking to a young man who has just handed her a decorative little box. She opens the box her admirer has given her. Inside are tiny silver earrings that are shaped like acorns, they jingle as she picks them up, like tiny little bells. Inside the box is another smaller box. Iohan stops breathing. The young man reaches over and opens the box revealing a ring inside. Iohan's mouth drops open, it's a beautiful ring made to look like intertwining vines with tiny leaves inscribed on the band. In the centre of the ring is a stone. It is blue shading to lilac, it had taken him ages to find a stone that colour and he hopes she likes it. He takes her hand and places the ring on her wedding finger. Iohan doesn't know whether to laugh or cry, so compromises and does both. Above them a sparrow sings out as if in an early congratulation.

They were married in the autumn under the giant oak tree, his red and golden leaves floating down around the couple like a blessing from a sky god.

Seasons pass with the never-ending march of time.
Iohan sits beneath the oak tree admiring his new spring growth. In her lap a baby gurgles away happily, making a determined effort to eat his toes. In the tree above the squalling of baby birds can be heard over the proud beautiful song of the sparrow. She'd have to remember to bring something out for them. Spring was her happiest time, everything was alive and new, but this one was different. This spring was timeless and she'd remember it always. The fresh green spring, the coolness of the earth and the soft whispering of the oak trees leaves as they blew gently in the wind. Iohan was happy.

Many seasons pass. The colours of the oak trees leaves blur together in a sea of red, golden, green and bare.
But the tree is alone. Iohan is in the house, but the oak tree knows it won't be long until they are together again forever. In the house Iohan is stooped over a cradle. Her first granddaughter has been born. In the cradle the baby awakes from her doze. Iohan is old now. Her hair no longer the colour of autumn has taken the snow-white colour of winter; her beautiful features are crinkled with laughter lines but there is one thing that has not changed. Her eyes are the same youthful eyes; her eyes are timeless. She looks down into the cradle to see her granddaughter gazing back up with an intent gaze of blue shading to lilac. There is a moment of connection between the two so intense that there is no way to describe it in words. And then the moment has passed and everything is back to normal again.
Iohan croons softly to the baby Fionn Iohan Greenwoods until she falls asleep again. She stops her lullaby of promises and sleep and woods that are lovely dark and deep. She shakes her head at herself- that last part of the rhyme had always stuck in her head. Outside something calls to her, so she follows it. She makes her way towards the giant oak tree, hobbling along on her stick. She gazes up at the moon to see her riding high in her cycle. She smiles fondly as she reaches the oak, “Hello old friend. Don't worry; she'll be yours soon too. I've kept my promises.” Iohan sits down and leans back against the tree “And now I can sleep…” She shuts her eyes and then adds in a barely audible whisper “But remember to forget me not.” A smile flickers across her lips, as she remembers not the present but times long since passed, she sighed as the happiness took over her mind. She did not breathe in again. Her eyes opened again but saw nothing; they were fixed eternally on the everlasting dawn of spring. In the house the baby cried out and fell silent. For a moment the world stopped. The oak tree groaned forlornly but there was no wind to cause it. And then everything erupted back into life, for life must go on. That is the way of things, the way of Mother Earth.

A girl with autumn coloured hair and pale skin stirred beneath the giant oak tree. Blue shading to lilac eyes opened to see the full moon riding high in her cycle. Fionn Greenwood smiled. No one had ever mentioned that her middle name was Iohan. She leaned back against the tree again and for a moment she thought she heard the slow drumming of a heartbeat; everything around her became connected and seemed to glow from within, pulsing with the timeless heartbeat of life. And then it was gone. She got the distinct impression that this was some sort of very old secret and that she should keep it to herself. She patted the tree lovingly “All right old friend, it's between us and the forget-me-nots. The wind whispered softly through the leaves, it sounded like a thank you. Fionn laughed as she retrieved her shoes from the earth and walked barefoot back to the farmhouse. And then all was quiet, but if you'd been listening very carefully you might have sworn you heard a fragment of a poem, about lovely dark and deep woods followed by the sound of laughter on the wind.

All work is © of the author. Anyone found stealing will have their eyes plucked out and theiving hands removed.
Deladreing

2006-06-20 [windowframe]: *haunt*

2006-06-20 [someelf]: Haunting stage Silver? XD

2006-06-20 [windowframe]: It has to be done. :)

2006-06-20 [someelf]: xD You don't say? You're already haunting how many wiki's? xD

2006-06-20 [windowframe]: 3,000 something? O.o I count every few months or so. :P

2006-06-20 [someelf]: Niiccce XD

2006-06-20 [Delladreing]: Many of them mine ^^

2006-06-20 [someelf]: XD I found out *stalker* >_> <_<

2006-06-20 [Delladreing]: o.o;

2006-06-20 [someelf]: I am on many pages you'lot are on too XD Yet I don't talk on it :3

2006-06-20 [Delladreing]: Jup, stalker :P

2006-06-20 [someelf]: :3

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