Somewhere in a misty mountain valley, along a stream bed that feeds a creek beside a coughing coal mine, twin Willows grow. Their trunks entwined and their branches tangle in the wind. There a tale, as old as a coal vein, lives still about the winding willows. #amwriting
A legend of a boy, pure of heart, the noble Goodwin Able, and the spirit Fae of a Willow tree who came to life to save him. This boy, who spoke to spirits of water, earth, and light and lived a life of simple service, died with saintly purpose.
Yet his bones are not interred in casket, dirt, or ash. His soul instead forever joined with the Fae’s who gave her self, a creature of the ancient world who lived a hundred years and came to love the young boy, Good.
If you ever find yourself beneath the shade of a curious canopy of willowy leaves, perhaps you’ll meet the spirit of the wind, the same sprite who walked beside young Good, and witnessed everything, who whispers yet the tale to those who take the time to hear.
• • •
Missing some Tweet in this thread? You can try to
force a refresh
