It was centuries ago, perhaps eons ago. The land and the air was fresh, innocent, clear. There was serenity in the air, a sense of complete peace. The inhabitants of the land with wings, legs, claws and hooves all lived together in matrimony and harmony.
Until the witches started coming. They flew in like haunted spirits, polluting the crisp sky with their dark shadows. The wonderful World as it was became victim to moments of terror at the witches’ will.
One gloomy day, a witch soared through the sky in a horrifying costume, terrorizing the inhabitants. But soon they would forget, recover and sleep in peace.
One gloomy day, a witch propelled herself up above the land and released a devilish burning concoction onto the land and inhabitants, killing many and hurting countless. But soon they would forget, recover and sleep in peace.
One gloomy day, a witch haunted the night sky dressed in the gruesome ripped skin of the inhabitants, scarring the little ones forever with endless nightmares. But soon they would forget, recover and sleep in peace.
One gloomy day, a witch casted herself above the land and inhabitants, and began telling a story. One of suffering, eternal fear, slaughter and bloodshed. One of utter chaos and ruin.
However, the story was too dark, too frightening and too real. The inhabitants never forgot, never recovered and never slept again.
“Take it back. Call that story back” they yelled at the sky towards the shadows of the witches.
But of course, it was too late. For once a story I told, it cannot be called back. Once told, it is loose in the World.
Evil.
Commentary:
There’s something about a story that brings impossibly frightening fiction, into real life. Much like the innocence and serenity of the inhabitants’ land, we are often clean from horrors. Until a story is told that brings to light the evils that exist, and it’s origin. We can forget, recover and sleep in peace following a depressing moment or image in time, however, a story never erases itself.
It’s safe to say writing this story made me feel a little uneasy. But why? I’ve seen scarier movies, heard louder sounds and witnessed darker moments. Telling the story orally was difficult for me at first, but the cyclical and repetitive elements of my story guided me as I told it more and more. Perhaps there is something to be said about memory and orality. Perhaps in the same way, stories told and heard exist in an oral world of our mind that is impossible to replace or erase? Perhaps this is, in a psychological way, why stories like these transcend and remain in the fabric of time and existence?
There’s a part of me that thinks we are these inhabitants, their fear still living in us today. Forever haunted by tales of horror that exist in our World, much more than an image, much more than just a story. Stories have this power.
What kind of stories do you want to tell?
Works Cited
King, Thomas. The Truth About Stories: A Native Narrative. Peterbough:Anansi Press. 2003. Print.
Shaw, Martin. On Repetition in Storytelling. The Stanford Storytelling Project. 13 Feb 2013. Web. 25 January 2015. <http://web.stanford.edu/group/storytelling/cgi-bin/joomla/index.php/blog/2013blogs/347-on-repetition-in-storytelling.html>
Transcending Historical Trauma. Welcome to the Elders. Web. 25 January 2015.<http://discoveringourstory.wisdomoftheelders.org/resources/transcending-historical-trauma>
Hi Jeff,
Great work on your story! You have some very powerful and insightful commentary. For me, stories are kind of like a bully, in the sense that we may forget their content or the exact wording or structure of them, but we never really forget the way they make us feel. One thing I discovered in the telling of my story is that stories have a kind of permanence. Similar to what both you and King have said, you can’t take something back once you’ve said it. That is the power that words have over us. They have the power to change us without us even realizing we are being changed. You ask “What kind of story do you want to tell?” – I think the answer is straightforward for me. I simply want to tell an honest one because lies have a way of coming back to you in most unfortunate ways.
Sarah C.
Hi Jeff, thank you for your story, and your very interesting commentary on the telling of this tale 🙂