This is my first attempt at The Sunday Whirl, I’m a sucker for a good prompt. Every Sunday a list of words are posted and you must write a story or poem with the words provided (forms of the words are fine and you don’t have to use them all, but that’s all part of the fun). Take a look at the link to check it out for yourself and have a go.
There once was a forest of great towering oak,
Where columns of russet would bend when you spoke,
And thick woven blankets of olive and green,
Would dance in the moonlight and sing of what’s been.
Where whispers of spirits and times that had past,
Would surrender their stories and watch them recast.
Secrets once shared with the good and the brave,
Are carried on stories from cradle to grave,
Of wood sprites and fairies and water nymphs too,
Peering from shadows they still watch anew.
For only the strong and the pure and the good,
Can battle the claws of this mystical wood.
Clues that are hidden and buried around,
Are concealed by the apples fallen to ground.
But follow the rash of the ants through the pile,
And you will find treasure to haunt and beguile.
A magic elixir to fight the black moon,
There is no escape, no imp is immune.
Let the imps drink of the elixir three times,
And watch as the shackles rise up like the vines.
To exile the darkness and return what had been,
A velvet green valley and a blossoming ravine.
And then he will soar on a wide golden wing,
The one who was banished, the lost fairy king.