The Revivification of Ivory Eveningfleck
Here is the first short story that led to the Amafeareile book idea. This story is also available in an anthology with a lot of other great stories, so, please feel free to check it out. https://www.apoapsu.com/shop/p/joy-to-the-worlds
Ivory Eveningfleck shook out her wings. Dust spread over every surface, glittering less like diamonds and more like bits of dingy glass. She fluffed the straw on her bed with less vigor than usual and walked to the nearby basin. The water glistened. She stared at her reflection and splashed her face. Outside, the wind blew. Beyond the tree hollow, the last leaf fell, leaving bare branches to welcome her in brilliant daylight.
“Hello, tree. You’re looking sad today. Let’s get an apple made to cheer you up.”
Looks like I have another long, lonely day ahead of me.
She thought of Spring, Summer and Fall. Singing birds. Warm sunny days with frolicking people. Beautiful orange and red leaves. Ivory half-smiled and then her face soured. Silence surrounded her, colder, darker days creeping ever closer.
The winter solstice approached. Animals hibernated. The only life on this tree came from her hard work making apples for humans.
She stretched her miniature arms and flicked her wrists with torpidity while she muttered a few incantations with utter ennui.
I just want to be surrounded by light and life.
Outside the tree, a small green nodule sprang forth from one branch. As she waved her arms, the viridescent button grew larger and larger, ripening into a deep crimson.
“There. A bit more life… at least for a little while.” She gave a half-hearted nod.
She continued creating fruit. The depths of her disenchantment caused the work to take hours instead of minutes to complete.
The last vestiges of twilight disappeared, and she retired to her room.
Ivory yawned. That’s fifteen. That is… two less than yesterday. She frowned. Her heart shrank a little. One more apple could be another satisfied child, another human who didn’t go to bed hungry.
Ivory hauled her tiny frame to bed and had a fitful sleep.
***
The sun shone into her room, and she blinked herself awake. Ivory plumped up her straw bed a couple of times and walked to the basin. She put her hands in the reflectionless standing water and rubbed her face. Ivory stared out the hollow, mouth gaping as she sucked in the silent morning air. The bare branches soured her mood. With a slow twist of her wrists, she began her work again. Apple after apple appeared on the tree.
Twilight came sooner and she retired again in disappointment, the last underripe apple mocking her as she cradled a sore wrist and turned in for the night.
And today is thirteen.
She resumed her restless sleep.
***
Eveningfleck turned over in her bed and grunted at the morning light peeking through a cloudy sky. She cradled her sore arms and squeezed her eyes shut until she drifted off again. She woke midday and shuffled over to splash her face with water from the dark basin. By evening she had made three apples.
***
Ivory tossed and turned, not bothering to get out of bed until dusk came again. A curious sound caused her to shoot off her berth. She tilted her head, twitched her peaked ears, and listened with intensity.
A humming noise grew louder in the air. The voices began to shout and holler with musical notes. She poked her head out of the tree.
Candlelight illuminated humans dressed in formal wear, the men in top hats and the women, bonnets.
“Let every man take off his hat and shout out to th’old apple tree.” The men tipped their hats. “Old apple tree we wassail thee and hoping thou will bear!”
The flames of the red, green, and gold candles entranced her. She waved her arms in rhythm all the while nodding along to the songs. Being careful to remain hidden, she worked her magic until the singing stopped and she grew tired once again.
Fourteen apples this evening! Her skin tingled at the thought. She got into her bed and slept with a dearth of tossing and scant turning.
***
The light of the morning sky shone off the water in the basin, creating a dance of lights on Ivory’s ceiling. She smiled and lifted herself out of bed. She worked throughout the day and as the sun set, more people sang outside.
“Let every man take off his hat and shout out to th’old apple tree. Old apple tree we wassail thee and hoping thou will bear!”
Warmth radiated throughout her body. Her heart drummed in her chest. She forewent the water basin, not needing its cool touch to energize her. She stretched her slender arms and flicked her wrists with esprit while she annunciated a few incantations accompanied by pure mirth.
The people continued to dance and sing with great festivity while Ivory Eveningfleck produced fruit after fruit. By twilight’s end the crowd had dispersed, leaving her euphoric. Something she had not felt since the summer months.
Twenty-two today. A new record. She grinned and twirled into bed. The Yule season was here, and that meant brighter days ahead. Closing her eyes, she welcomed a peaceful sleep.
