November 24 - Promises to Keep

Beginning Word Count  45,768

Okay, today's blog piece is another short story.  It is actually a rewrite of a short story I did a while ago, and I do mean rewrite, not edit.  I want to edit the original; however, I'm not exactly sure where to take it -- so, I'm taking the concept and writing the story again. I am sure there will be core pieces that end up very similar -- but it is possible that the story will take a turn somewhere and go into a different place.  I do not feel that would be possible with an edit, as I'd always be trying to fix what is present.

I've also not reread this story for quite some time, which I think will be helpful in allowing it to develop on its own and tell me where it wants to go.  I'm not as familiar with it as I once was.  It's a story I wrote many years ago.   I've always felt it should be more -- but then again, maybe this is a short story that is just that -- a short piece.  Perhaps it can tell itself in just a few words.

There is nothing wrong with that, if that is what this story is to be.  However, as I originally wrote it at a time when I was not particularly good at expanding, I don't know if it is the story or me that caused it to be short.

I've also renamed the story, for this rework.  The original story is entitled "Seasons", and that title may stand.   But for now, it has a different working title.


Promises to Keep

Daphne ran.  She did not know how he had spotted her, why she had caught his eye, but she did not want anything to do with him. Still, she knew his type.  "No" was not a word he understood when said to him.  Sure, he could say it to others and comprehend its meaning full well, but he would not accept it from another.

And Daphne was definitely not interested.  So she ran.  She had to keep ahead of him, away from him. 

And if she were interested, that would be even worse!  Daphne had made a pledge.  She was a Huntress.  She was a devotee of Artemis, and Artemis demanded purity from her followers.  Goddess of the Hunt and the Moon, also known as the Chaste Goddess, Artemis would be unforgiving if her Huntress strayed.

Especially with her brother.

Apollo knew full well that Artemis's Huntresses were out of bounds, but he had never considered boundaries to be something to restrict him.  Daphne's brows furrowed. She would hardly be surpised if Apollo had chosen her because Artemis had forbidden it.   She had seen gods before; her own father was a demi-god, so immortals hardly impressed her. She was the Daughter of the River -- she wanted nothing to do with the Sun!  The Forrest was her home. The animals within it were her friends.  And she loved everything about this place.

But if Apollo caught her, she would be banished. 

Daphne cried out to Artemis to help her, to protect her from her beastly brother, but Artemis did not respond.   Her power was strongest when the moon was full, and it was still the afternoon.   In the bright of day, the moon could not overpower the sun.  Daphne wondered if she could keep running, keep herself away from Apollo, until the moon came out.  If she could outlast him, avoid him, at least until then, perhaps Artemis could help her.

Still, Daphne sensed her time was running out.  Apollo was a god.  And he was merely toying with her.  He could appear in front of her on the path at any moment.  There was very little she could do.  Daphne knew she was running out of options.  But while she had breath, she would fight for her own identity, for her own destiny.  She would be true to herself.  So Daphne ran to the river. Apollo ruled the sky, but her father had command of the river within this forest.  Daphne called out, "Father, help me!" 

Peneus, the god of the River, saw his lovely daughter running towards him, pursued by the god of the sun, begging for help.  But Peneus could no more stop the amorous god than he could stop the sun from rising.  He arose from the river.  Daphne, his daughter, stopped and knelt before him.  "Father, help me," she begged.

He looked at her, and back to Apollo who was nearing them.  "Daughter, I cannot turn away a god in pursuit."

"Then make me someone he would not pursue!"

Peneus nodded.  "Stand," he said, softly.

Daphne stood.  Peneus raised his hand, and the river rose with it.  He guided the water forward until Daphne was fully encased in the watery shell.

Apollo reached the place where Daphne stood and glared at Peneus.  "Release her," he commanded.
Peneus smiled and nodded.   He lowered his hand and the waters slowly cascaded down Daphne's body.   But Daphne was no longer there.  In her place stood a beautiful tree -- long flowing leaves which looked a bit like the tresses of her hair, and a slender body with soft and silvery bark.

"Where is she?" Apollo demanded.

"She is there.  Daphne is that tree."

Apollo screamed in rage at Peneus, but then he approached the tree and caressed its bark.  "Why would you not let me love you?" Apollo asked.   He ran his fingers through her leaves and finally took out a knife, cutting a branch away. He formed a crown from the leaves and placed it on his head.  "You will forever be associated with me," Apollo whispered to the tree.   "My symbol will be the laurel tree. For I do love you, Daphne, please... come back to me?"   Apollo rested his head against the bark of the tree and wept.  "I love you.  I promise I will always love you."

Peneus regarded Apollo, but said nothing.  He could see the mark of Cupid's arrow upon the god, and did not know if this love Apollo felt for Daphne was real -- or would fade with the setting of the sun.   Nevertheless, it had been Daphne's wish to be saved from Apollo's pursuit.     



She stretched her fingers on the wind and listened as the wind blew through her hair.  She wiggled her toes and dug deep within the earth to find the river. So long ago, it had disappeared.  They all had.  The gods had fallen silent, and dim, then they were gone.   But she remained, a testament to a time forgotten long ago.  A monument which no one understood.

Still, she was happy here.  She loved it when the birds came and sang to her, and she loved hearing the secrets of the wind as it rustled her leaves.  On occasion, she could even remember her name.  If she wanted to.

She was the last of them.  So she stood for all of them, even those who did not really deserve it.
And then he came.  And everything changed.

Oh, she recognized him, the golden boy.  He did not recognize her, but he paused for a moment and looked up at her leaves before smiling and humming a soft nothing song.  The golden boy reached up and cut a sprig from one of her branches, and formed a crown, which he placed on his head before walking off.

She was stunned.   He was here?  Still? Walking free, while she, his once victim was trapped in this place, abandoned?



Many years later, she saw him again.  This time, Daphne was ready for him.  He wore a different face, and seemed warmer than he had previously.  Different.  Still, he was Apollo.   She knew it the moment she saw him.  He stopped and looked up at her, with a soft and tender smile.  Daphne rustled her own leaves.  He laughed, truly joyful at the sound, and Daphne paused -- confused.


It happened many times over the years, a new face, and Daphne came to realize -- he was tied to her.   He was free to walk the earth, but he had to be near her.  She was his anchor.  And she found she started to look forward to his visits.  He would talk to her, tell her about his life and what was going on in his world. And once he started coming to see her, he would visit her frequently -- all the days of his life.

Daphne watched him age over and over again.  She found that she missed each of his lives when they were gone.   But he always came back.  He told her stories.  She could hear the fondness in his voice when he talked to her. 


Then one day, he came to her with a book.  "Hi there!" he greeted her.  In this particular lifetime, Paul talked to her like she were a real person -- not a tree. He introduced himself to her and always asked her questions, pausing as if he expected an answer.  He never really stopped acting like he expected an answer.

And sometimes, Daphne tried to respond to him.  She'd rustle her leaves, or toss a twig at him.  It always made him laugh when she did.  

"I found a story I wanted to read to you," he announced before sitting at her roots and leaning against her bark.  "It reminded me of you.  I don't know why," he admitted.

Then Paul started to read, and Daphne stood still. The wind blew, but she held herself still and listened.  It was her story.  The story of how she became a tree:

'Apollo, the god of the sun, came across Eros, the god of love, and saw the small deity preparing his arrows.  In disdain, the Sun God derided him and asked him what kind of a weapon love could be.  It was all frills and hearts.  Eros, angered by Apollo's disdain decided to show him exactly how powerful his weapon was, and he took two arrows.  One was filled with love's greatest purity and truth -- and the other was a weapon of disdain.  He shot the arrow of disdain at a water nymph -- Daphne -- then shot Apollo with the arrow of love, and caused him to fall deeply in love with the one person who could not return his affection, but would spurn him.   Both were victims of his arrows.  Soon, Apollo pursued the nypmh, to the edge of the river, where she begged her father to save her from the god.  He turned her into a tree.  Apollo, broken hearted, promised to love her for eternity, and made her his symbol.  He made himself a crown out of her beautiful leaves.'

That was their story, told from another side -- and Daphne had pity on Apollo.  He had had no more choice than she. 

Paul stood up.  "I think I'll call you Daphne," he said as he winked to her.  "Have a good day, Daphne. I'll see you again soon!"

And Daphne felt something stir within her.  She was not sure what it was, but when she tried to move, she found she could do more than just rustle her hair. She could move branches.  
Paul returned and told her more and more, and Daphne felt herself beginning to soften to him even more.  This one, this man -- not god -- was someone she wondered if the nymph Daphne could ever have loved.  And she knew the answer was no.  She had been no more capable of loving while she was a nymph than Apollo had been as a god.  Their natures were not compatible to love.

But what about now?

She was a tree ... and he was a man. 

Daphne stood and waited.


Daphne saw him approaching long before he arrived, and was puzzled.  There was another person with him.   He never brought others with him when he visited her.  That was their time, and she had come to cherish it over the long years.   She hated watching him age, and losing the man he had become -- but she loved watching him grow and become a better person that he had been before.

Daphne loved watching Paul over his lifetimes.  The man he was now was amazing, and nearly unrecognizable from the god she had met.

But he was bringing someone with him.  First he recognized her, and now he had someone?

Daphne was confused.  But she waited.  It was what she knew.  The only thing she knew.

Paul walked up, "Hi there," he said as he winked to her.  "I brought someone I wante you to meet."

"Paul? I thought you were going to introduce me to one of your oldest friends," the woman with him said.

"I am," he said softly, taking her hand.  "Daphne?  I'd like you to meet Daphne."

As if he could ever be with someone bearing a different name.  She had to be Daphne.

"You wanted to introduce me to a tree?" she said, flatly.

He frowned.  "Yes.  This tree is very important to me.  I have called her Daphne since before we met, and your name is part of why I asked you out on that first date.  This tree is my dearest friend.  I've confided in her my whole life."

"You talk about her as if she's a real person," Daphne said uncertainly.

"She feels like a real person to me," Paul said.   "She's very special. This place -- it is very special.  I wanted to share it with you."  Then he reached up, and cut a sprig from one of her branches and formed a crown, which he placed on Daphne's head. Then he knelt on one knee before Daphne, and asked "Will you marry me?"

Daphne squealed happily: "Yes, oh yes!"

But Daphne the tree tried not to droop.  He had learned to love at last, truly understand love and be generous with it.  And it was not her. Yet Daphne was also happy for him. 

The young lovers kissed happily, and finally the young woman, Daphne, put her hands on the tree and smiled. "Thank you for sharing him with me.  I will take care of him." 

Finally, Paul and Daphne walked away.  Paul looked over his shoulder and smiled:  "Same time next week! I'll see you."  Daphne watched them until she could no longer see them any more.

He would come, she knew, true to his word.  But she would not be there.  Already, she could feel the wind blowing.  She stretched as far as she could reach -- and let go.... of her form, of the earth.   She flew around the clearing once, then hovered far above, forming a face with her leaves, then flew off. 

It was time for her to see the world.

Today's Word Count: 2,478
Total Word Count:  48,246