Fall is a Dancer

This is kinda based on these really short stories I wrote where the seasons where these four sisters and their father was Time. Anyway, I wrote this kinda on the fly, William is not a huge fan of it, but there was something about it that I was kinda unwilling to change. Anyway, it touches lightly on the theme for the week, something we both have been doing a lot, which makes me question the whole theme concept if we are so unwilling to abide by it. Also this is being posted early, probably because I have another story on my brain and I want to dedicate some time to it. Also this is a much more cheery story than usual, enjoy.

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Title: The Dance of Fall
Theme: Myth/Relationship
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Most people will try to tell you that raven’s bear with them bad tidings and ill fortune. Perhaps in some cases this is most definitely the case. However in my family, story after story is passed along about how they more often than not carry with them the change in the season, and like you or me, are just people with a job to do. I myself have often come upon the Raven’s of the seasons, sharing in conversation with them, or falling away from what they bring with them. However this is nothing new, stories of my families dealings with them go farther back than dates do. And it is in these stories that we have become so familiar with them, so un-startled by them. For instance, did you know Fall is a dancer?


He was but the first among my family, and with him he carried no name, the kin of a man and a Sidhe, some might say, details however to which he did not care. What the first of my line did care for were the things he saw around him and the things that people so often seemed to miss in their hurriedness. There was very rare a time that he was not gallivanting through the woods near the town to which he was so estranged, further stoking the rumors that he was the spawn of such an odd union. The boy would not wear shoes on his feet, claiming that there was only one way to experience the wood, and that was with the earth moving through, under and over your feet, allowing yourself to fully experience it. It was one day, trying to make his way home from traversing perhaps just one stream or one field to far that the first of us did meet a new friend, forever changing the course my family would take. He was crossing a gentle stream when perhaps an even more gentle breeze did pass him by. And carrying with it were several dancing leaves of a color he had never seen leaves before. The leaves carried with them the varied range that the copper the villagers used seemed to carry.
“Many a distance I have traveled these woods, and not a leaf nor a blade of grass have I ever seen carry such beauty! I will move against the wind today, mayhap I will find the home to these strange leaves!”
And so, without thinking, as my family often seems to do, the first of us did wander off against the wind in the hopes of finding something new that the others did not know a thing about.

It would be more than a strange leaf that the lad would find, soon he found his forest floor, carpeted with greenest moss you could hope for, was covered in fallen leaves. The leaves delicately draped themselves over the forest landscape, resting and colorizing every hill, ever crevice in a beautiful range of golds, crimsons, and coppers.
“I am no longer in my forest. Have I been taken by the fair folk, for truly a wood of this elegance must be theirs.”
The boy continued with his walking, swearing to himself that he could hear music, a sweet humming off in the distance. Moving against the wind once more, the lad was walking into the setting sun, into a golden forest, so much more different than the green one he was used to, and it was in a vast expanse of trees amongst an ocean of moss and fallen branches that he did see her. She moved in front of the golden rays that seemed to be creeping in through the trees and he lost her to a silhouette, but it did not stop him from hearing her song.

The spring is done, its come and gone
Summer has had her turn.
And now I dance with the woods
Waiting for Winter to return.

My time is precious, for it is short
But I cherish every moment
Every step among your branches
Toot sweet I must lament.

The warm wind blows around me now
Carrying your leaves
I must carry on my dance
As I move amongst the trees.

Her song continued, it seemed as though she was making it up as she went along, but the boy did not care. He was enthralled with her dance. She stepped lightly upon the forest floor, up and down trees, twirling as she did so. It seemed as though she never touched the ground. If I could compare it, the dance was everything that any dance would aspire to be. I cannot mention just one dance, for I would have to believe all dance draws upon its desire to move the way Fall was. And as twilight began its approach, it was then that the boy finally got his first best look at Fall and he found himself further enchanted by her. Her skin was fair, and her hair seemed to shift almost as much as the falling leaves did, moving through the colors we so associate with fall. She wore a dress woven from leaves, but flowed like silk, that moved with grace with Fall’s every step. She wore a shirt one would have to assume was woven by light and carried the color of a setting sun, sharing even its glow. Even this was changing as the sun began to set, the fabric slowly filling with flickering stars. And lastly around her neck was a scarf knitted using yarn from the wind, for it to danced endlessly. Lost in his rapture, the boy hardly took notice of the fact that she was, with unbelievable grace, stepping towards him, her golden brown eyes carrying with them a smile as warm as the one spreading upon her pink lips.
“You can see me?”
“How can I not? What is it that you are doing?”
“I am changing the seasons. Summer is over and I must make ready for Winter’s time.”
“What are seasons? What is Winter?”
“Winter is one of my sisters.”
The lad had no idea what seasons were, this was his first time meeting one of them. But he liked Fall, he was quite smitten by her to say the least.
“You should come back to the village with me, it will be dark soon.”
Fall chuckled, as most seasons tend to do when one does not understand their work.
“I can’t dear boy. I must get going; I have much to do, and very little time to do it in.”
The first of my line became sad; he did not want Fall to go away. He wanted to watch her dance; he wanted to continue to hear her song.
“Then I will come with you.”
“Where I go, you cannot come I am afraid. But I will be back.”
“When? Will it be for longer?”
“The same time next year. And no, I am afraid I won’t be here much longer than I am now.”
“Your time is so short here, and yet with you comes things I have never seen before. I won’t forget them. I promise, there will come a time when one of my line will get to walk with you while you dance. Until then I shall tell them about you. And they will keep watch for you. Every time they see the leaves fall, they will know you are back, and they will listen to your song and they will watch your dance.”
Fall had no more words for the first of my line, instead she gave him a gentle kiss upon his cheek and smiled at him. She started to sing her song, and dance once more, and the boy could only hear but a few more words of her song fade off into the woods.

I dance now, through song and tale
As Inspiration has now been born
He waits for me every year
That he may see me dance once more.
That he may see me dance once more.