Forest Sprite

Forest Sprite

This forest is an ancient place where time and history have scant meaning. The trees and their forbearers have watched the eons pass, civilisations rise and empires fall. Their memory stretches far back into the mists of creation were mystery and magic were commonplace. Even now, in the age of space exploration a little of that ethereal essence remains.

Look closely into the gloom, be still and wait, perhaps you can glimpse it for yourself.

She welcomes the dawn, throwing her arms to the sky, gossamer threads of mist rise from the warm soil to hang suspended about her naked body. Her form so sensual it seduces even the earth and the sky, the very elements of life. The first rays of light flicker through the woodland canopy to dance over her in pinpricks of brilliance, roving where desire may take them. Her alabaster skin prickles at each warming touch, her toes flex to bury themselves deep in the blanket of moss and her back arches in ecstatic abandon.   

She leaps forward with the grace of a gazelle. Her feet, light as a butterfly's touch, leave no sign of her passing. She flies through the air, using low slung branches to hurl herself forward. She races across open ground on all fours, bounding from fallen log to barren rock, with a skill long since lost to man. Soon, she's lathered in sweat, panting through smiling lips, she gulps down the morning air.

Ahead lies a mired stream, the ground beneath her feet oozes rich dark mud. She launches herself in a shallow dive, rolling and writhing in the grime, using her delicate hands to coat every inch of her skin with the slippery earth. Her head lolls back as she relishes the feel of her slick hand passing over her body. Her breath deepens until the groans coming from her throat can only be described as base.

At last, exhausted and sated, she rises from the mud and follows the rising sun towards the edge of the lake. Crystal clear, the water beckons her in. She vaults forward piercing the surface without causing a ripple. Her hands push the cool liquid aside as she delves deep. She welcomes the icy touch which explores her like a well acquainted lover. Her skin tingles as the clinging mud is washed from her deepest pore, the chill of the lake cooling her after the exertions of the forest. She dives deeper still, kicking strongly for the bottom until she's floating above the swaying weed anchored on the lake bed. She turns to watch the rising sun transform each surface ripple into a million glittering diamonds. Soon, her lungs need to taste air and she drives for the surface, alas the morning commune is nearly over.

Strong strokes take her back to the bank where she retrieves her clothes from the hollow log. Once dressed, she finds her keys where she'd hidden them. It was nearly time to wake the kids for school. She left with a heavy heart, the magic of the place would sustain her until the next time she could be free...alive...without constraint.  

Inspired by the thoughts and words of Bobbi