Author: Fall Writing Contest 2023

Stars sprinkled throughout the darkening skies and the moon grew in size as Mick made his way back to his colony of family and friends that lived in the hollows and caverns nestled in the mountains of the Irish countryside. Thirty-three leprechauns and their extended families had lived there for centuries and most were related to him.

He tapped his walking stick against small rocks and hummed to himself, lost in the tranquility and peace of his surroundings.

A voice cried out, “Help”, and he startled, stopped and looked around. He waited and listened, but the only sound was that of the wind as it whispered through the trees and brushed against his face. “Sure ‘twas nothing,” he muttered under his breath and continued onward.

The voice grew louder. “Please help me.”

Daniel whimpered, but the sound was lost amongst the shouts in the village below. Dust billowed in the distance, cloaking the sunrise, yet it mattered little. Everyone knew what lurked in the shadows.

Vleron had finally found them.

The northern king sought to conquer Daniel’s homeland, and had spent most of the year consuming it bite by bite. Now, a small army had made camp near Daniel’s village, teeth bared for another mouthful.

Marwen felt strange as her uncle approached. Radoc had been family, but it had been years since she’d seen the man, and now he was a priest, a representative of mystery and power. He had been summoned to relieve the drought, and when his eyes met Marwen, she felt a stab of unease at their weight.

‘Radoc…what’s wrong?’

‘I bring bad news,’ her uncle sighed. ‘Do you remember Vilnus?’

Marwen nodded, recalling the legend of the man who’d given his body to bring water. It had been a barren year, so dry the oasis had turned to clay, and Vilnus had agreed to become the wind, to carry clouds from far away.

Could it be?

Yes. A resplendent quetzal. The most beautiful bird in Costa Rica. Sacred symbol of the Aztec feathered serpent god, Quetzalcoatl.

Ilana had only learned about this creator god from Mesoamerican mythology at breakfast that morning. Their host at the lodge had told his captive audience of American tourists about Quetzalcoatl’s rise and demise. As with most gods, sordid sex spoiled his legacy. He slept with his sister – didn’t they all, Ilana had thought – and, riddled with shame, set himself on fire. It didn’t end on a completely sour note for the god, though. As his ashes rose into the sky, a resplendent quetzal swallowed them whole and promised to keep him safe until he was ready for rebirth.

Without making a sound, Ilana tugged on her husband’s jacket sleeve while pointing to the bird’s long, metallic green tail with her other hand.