Location: New Year’s Eve Party
Interacting with: No one
An old man walked through the woods on his way home. As he passed round a pond that blocked his path, he tripped on a newly sprout root and fell to his knees. From his pocked fell his axe that sunk into the deep waters.
Naomi rode her bike
down the gravel path to the sandy coast. Naomi, skipping out on her run today because of the New Year’s celebrations, she found herself needing the feeling of sore legs over a comfortable car ride.
As the old man reached and reached, a woman came behind him and knelt beside him. “My dear,” she spoke softly, “What is the matter?”
”My axe,” the man explained, “it is an heirloom in my family that has past down my family over centuries. And when I tripped it fell into the water.” The woman looked across the gray waters, she lifted her hand slowly and ripples began to appear. Through the waters an axe rose, but not the man’s stone and wooden one, but instead a silver one with rubies imbedded into the blade. “Tell me, is this your axe?” The woman asked.
was too skimpy for this weather, which seemed to be skimming a high seventies; but she knew that a good outfit was what she needed to start off a new year.
The man shook his head, “No, that is not my axe.”
The woman lowered her hand and the axe fell back into the ripples. After a moment she rose her hand again, and this time a golden axe with sapphire and lapiz lazuli stones floated out of the waves. “Is this your axe?”
The old man shook his head again, “No, that still is not my axe.” So the woman lowered it back into the pond. One last time she rose her hand and this time the old stone axe came to the shore. “Yes!” The man exclaimed, “This is my axe.”
The woman handed the old man his axe, but also pulled the silver and gold ones out of the waters as well. “You are a true and honest man. For your humility, you may have all three.
The sun had already set, yet her orange glow still lingered on the sky. The shrubbery let way so Naomi could see the beach, and the large house where the party was. Cars had already lined street down the block, but she knew she could find a nice palm to buckle her bike to.
The bike ride was only twenty minutes from her house, but it was refreshing to be alone in the rushing, down hill air. The new year seemed so close, but she was already afraid of what the night and following months might bring.
The old man ran home to his wife and family where he told them all what happened. His brother listened on with enchantment, and when the story was done the brother ran to the backyard and grabbed the shovel; running to the pond and throwing it in. The brother waited and waited, but twenty minutes later the woman came to his side and asked what was wrong. “I tripped and lost my shovel!” The brother exclaimed, “And I am too short to get it back.” So the woman rose her hand, and from the pond rose a silver shovel, brilliant when compared to the rusty one he had thrown in. “Is this your-”
”Yes!” He yelled out, entranced by the shining spade, “That is my shovel!”
”You LIAR.” The woman screeched and the pond turned violent. The brother tried to run away, but the waves caught him. Dragging him under the waves.”
Naomi parked her bike near the front doors, rubbing her left forearm where her tattoo