Little Tree and Little River (part one)
There was a boy in the mountains who lived next to two monsters. Each monster lived on a separate mountain facing each other. They hurled vicious insults at night and giant rocks during the day. The attacks flew over the boy's little stick house where he lay shaking in fear.
Neither monster could gain any victory over the other. So they each shouted out to the boy.
“Hey boy!! You are so small and worthless! I knew your father! I ate your father! His bones still stick in my throat!! These bones hurt me terribly! You owe it to me!! Join me and kill the monster!”
The boy shook.
“Hey boy!! You are so great! In you I see the greatness you could be! You can avenge your father! You can rip the bones of your father out of the throat of the monster!! You can build those bones back into your own! Join me and kill the monster!”
The boy shook more.
One eye of each beast stared at the other monster and one eye of each stared at the boy. The air around the boy was stone as the two monsters descended into the valley.
The boy ran out of his little home as the sticks crashed in, the ground shook even more than the boy. As the monsters gained speed he cowered to the ground and covered his head. He waited for his death.
But some little note floated by at that moment, something sweet and clean. In that short moment he raised his head, forgetting about his death and fear.
A thin slender hand grew rose dug its way out of the soil in front of him. Without thought he took this hand in his own and was drawn into the ground. The cataclysm above roared and took off one of the boy's feet just as he slipped through the firmament and into the underworld.
It took his eyes a long time to adjust to the light. The open wound at his ankle become infected and he drifted in and out of fever. But the continuation of that simple note and the softness of another's hand in his were his guides and hope.
In time darkness morphed into blurs morphed into shapes morphed into objects. There was a slight girl next to him holding his hand wearing a neat flower dress.
“I still can't see.”
She nodded and sang a series of light notes. From unseen holes in the walls little bugs appeared and started glowing and the boy was able to see where he was.
At the end of his now numb pain he saw a clay foot made for him. Slowly he tested it and was able to plant his foot against the ground.
“You will be able to use it but it won't be as good as your original foot.”
Her voice was the first he had heard other than the monsters. He had memories of parents that tricked him into believing they, the parents, were real but he never trusted them. And even in those, his parents had no voices.
Of course it was beautiful. He couldn't tell whether it was because of the words she used, the quality of her voice, or just that it wasn't a monstrous scream. He stopped shaking.