I vaguely recalled a particular story that she had told me once. Something about how the little people in the hills would steal a newborn born child from its mother and replace it with an old wrinkled gremlin-esque creature. They’d get the fairies to cast a spell upon, so it resembled the original child; but this creature wasn’t a child. It was old and grim.
As I am currently experiencing a ‘creative block’ I thought I would try to inspire myself by going through my older pieces of writing. The following was one of my first University submissions, written in 2013. The assignment was to write an alternative ‘myth’ so below is my take on the story of creation.
Fanatic’s blamed humanity, claiming these tragedies were brought on by greed, wrath and pride. The logical blamed society, stating that centuries of abuse to our cultures and our planet had caused such unrest. The leaders blamed each other using accusations as a way to deflect from their own neglect.
The crowd was being moved down the stairs into the great open hall where an ocean of greys was moving as one. Waves pulsating. Like a river joining the sea, she weaved through the grey shadows, desperately trying to keep her head above water as she fought the current towards the tunnel. She slipped into what she thought was a river but instead was caught up in the race of the rapids.
To our dear nation, we applaud and thank you for your efforts over the last 18 months to contain and eradicate this virus. The day has finally come where we can swing open our doors, visit our families and our friends and begin the rebuilding of what we once knew as ‘normality’…