Another story from freshman year of college. Since it has my name and a date, I assume I submitted it for a class. (It’s sad that it had a handful of misspellings…)
In the days before the rise and fall of Man, the Earth was young and green and abundant with animals and plants of all types. The Sun was warm, the winters kind, and all creatures lived in harmony with one another, including the People.
“The People were a glorious race — fair of feature and noble of deed. Their kind knew peace, and did not scar the World as the Men later did. When Man sprang into being, the People went into hiding — for they knew what had been written about the fate of Man…”
Gromer shifted uneasily on his haunches, his mind a mixture of confusion and frustration. This was the first year that his father had insisted that Gromer attend the Storyteller’s History — that was always related at the New Year. The men of Gromer’s tribe were roughly grouped around the Storyteller — whose desiccated face was illuminated by the dying fire.
Gromer tilted his bulbous head toward his father who squatted down beside him. “I don’t understand, Father,” he croaked through his misshapen mouth.
Without looking, his father backhanded him across the face and sent him sprawling. Gromer lifted his head groggily, and spat blood and one of his few remaining teeth. It was obvious that his father wanted Gromer to be quiet. Cowed, he crawled back and took his place.
“…the People had some contact with Man who called them the Fairyfolk or the Elvenkind.”
In truth, none of Gromer’s tribe, not even the Storyteller understood much of the History. The words, handed down by word of mouth for generations, had become merely sounds, though they were still an important and revered tradition.
“But, it is said, when Man destroyed himself and all the good things of the Earth — for which we curse him a thousand times — those that remained of the People after their long absence appeared again with plans to make the Earth green once more.
“It had been written long ago that, after the fall of Man, a girl-child was to be born among the People who was to be the key to restoring the Earth. She was to be called Allariana — the Key. A child as innocent as the dove, and as beautiful as the Dawn.
“So it is, that we wait for the coming of the Key — so that the Earth may be whole once more.”
The men were silent for a time as the Storyteller left the group and headed for his cave. Gromer left also, for his family’s cave, as the men began their loud evening boasting, bellowing, and belching. He stopped along the way to dig absently for grub — as the words of the Storyteller ran through his mind. He succeeded in snaring three of the white, thumb-sized larvae, and chewed them slowly as the warm juices ran down his chin. Gromer thought of Allariana. He could picture her with such clarity that he was filled with a strange longing he had never experienced before. He tried to imagine what it would be like to be one of the People — to breathe health, to be one with untainted nature — the likes of which Gromer has never seen. After finding a place to defecate, he continued toward his cave.
Inside, Gromer found his usual sleeping place worn smooth by years of use. Trying not to awaken his sisters and mother who had already retired, he curled up on his side and was soon asleep.
He awoke in the middle of the night from a vivid dream of Allariana, and discovered the need to wash himself. The moon was high as he made his way down to the stream, and cast a milky white glow on the land around him.
As he entered the water, he thought back to his dream. He remembered how his father had told him that such dreams would be the first indication of manhood. Being a man, Gromer was now able to run his own life and make his own decisions. He would no longer be treated as a child. As he lay on the bank drying, he thought about the implications, a jack-o’-lantern’s smile upon his face. Since he was now able to make his own decisions, he decided to search for Allariana. Rather than returning to the cave for his few personal belongings, he decided to leave from where he was. Rising, he headed out into the night, humming a tuneless melody.
Sunrise found Gromer chasing his shadow westward, and putting even more miles between him and his home. Already he was farther than he had ever been, but the country about him looked exactly the same as that of his home miles to the east. He hoped he would soon catch some sign of a decrease in the barrenness and desolation of how homeland, and an increase of plant and animal life that would indicate improved chances of finding one of the People.
The day’s trek was uneventful, save for several minutes spent in midmorning, chasing and catching a scrawny rabbit-like animal that he had stumbled across. Even when picked clean, the animal had provided little to fill him.
It was nearing evening before the terrain finally began to change. The stunted trees and charred undergrowth Gromer was familiar with began to give way to greener, healthier shrubs. He was gladdened by this change.
He angled toward a dense expanse of trees to his left in search of food and shelter — as the orange sun kissed the distant horizon. Having stopped only a handful of times during the day, Gromer wanted badly to rest his sore feet and heavy legs.
He was at the forest’s edge within an hour. It was composed of shriveled, broadleaf trees that could once have been oak or maple. Though somewhat lacking in leaves, the branches formed a dense tangle overhead. Gromer paused at the edge of the forest to allow his eyes to adjust to the gloom — and then crept forward.
She watched him approach the forest on stunted legs, What a curious creature, she thought, he looks like an oversized baby — with his large head and hairless body. He paused a pace or two from the forest’s edge and peered in. She held her breath as his gaze slid past her, a blacker shadow in the darkness. He then stepped forward — startling a squirrel that ran across her foot in its haste to scale a nearby tree. The squirrel had no cause to fear one of the People, for the people loved all animals and did all in their power to protect them. As Gromer wound his way deeper into the forest, she turned to follow on silent feet.
She trailed him by ten paces for the next half hour as he trod his way through the undergrowth disturbing the wildlife. He seemed to have no direction to his travel, though his measdernings took him generally westward and deeper into the forest. After a time, he suddenly stopped. There was a thrashing noise, and she hurried forward in time to see him ready to kill one of her beloved squirrels by apparently biting its head off. Set on preventing the animal’s death, she looked around, seized a nearby stick, and flung it at Gromer’s head.
The stick hit with a resounding thwak, and Gromer was startled into dropping the squirrel. He then spied her a few yards away, and the chase began.
She ran, laughing, just out of his reach — and he struggled, grunting, to catch her. He didn’t notice how she would wait for him to regain his feet when he fell. When she tired of leading him in circles, she turned in the direction of her camp. A few minutes brought them there, as Gromer’s breathing became more heavy and his grunts more frequent.
As they reached the perimeter of the camp, she leaped a trench she had dug to keep away large animals — but he toppled in. He looked up at her in exhausted wonder, as she stood at the edge of the pit nearly doubled over with laughter.
“Well done,” she cried — but then sobered up, though her eyes still smiled. “If you’re that hungry, then have some of these.” She tossed down a pouch of nuts and berries that she carried at her side. He grabbed up the pouch, spilled out its contents, and devoured them by handfuls. When he had finished, he looked up — but she was gone.
“Hello!” She stood again at the edge of the pit as the noon sun angled steeply in. Her blonde hair was pulled back revealing her narrow chin, high cheekbones, and large eyes. She was dressed in green, but her cap had a bright red feather. She looked to be about twelve.
“Hello!” she cried again, and Gromer stirred to find a knotted rope dangling before him.
“It’s so you can climb out.”
She left the edge — and he stood, grabbed the rope, and began to climb. When he reached the top, he found her bent over a cooking pot making some sort of soup.
“My name is Allariana,” she said, “come, have some breakfast.”
