Post by valleylight on Jun 24, 2023 21:57:09 GMT -5
I got a tough health diagnosis this past week, and I was looking back at a short story I wrote several months ago. It was sort of a vent, and I remember it encouraged me at the time. A lot has changed since back then, but some things have changed for the better. So I thought I’d try posting it now. Partly because it was my first time trying present tense in years, and my first time trying this different style, so I know I could really use some feedback/advice!
Flickerfox Paradox
Flickerfox sits against the elm tree’s base, staring into the shadows. It feels as though she’s the only cat in the forest, alone with her nightly thoughts. She gives her chest fur a quick lick, her mind stuttering about. I don’t know what to feel anymore.
A distant owl hoots. Flickerfox stretches out onto her belly, dead leaves crackling beneath her. She reaches out and braces her forepaws against an elm root half-buried in the earth. She is reaching for something stable, something solid. A pawhold. She thinks of StarClan and wonders.
Will I always be alone? She checks herself. Not alone. But this kind of alone.
A chill breeze stirs her whiskers, and she pulls her tail in close to her side. Who am I? What am I doing? She stares at her paws, one black and one ginger. I can’t hunt or fight until my head gets better, until the wound heals up. Until the nausea stops coming every few days. And the dizziness, more often. The shaking.
She sighs. Larchsnow says it’s alright. It’ll just take time. Pinepelt says the same. Applepaw doesn’t know yet. He has time. He’s still learning.
She stares up at the sky, trying to spot Silverpelt through the dense forest canopy above. Am I still learning? Sometimes I feel like I know it all already, but then sometimes I’m overwhelmed by just how little I know. I get mad at myself.
She grits her teeth for a heartbeat, then sighs. This is hard. She remembers what Smokewhisker told her. “This is the hardest thing you’ve had to face. But there’s more to it, and more beyond it. I know we can’t see it yet, but it’s there.”
Flickerfox blinks. She wants to see.
This is the hardest time. Feeling tired, she rests her head on her forepaws. But it’s not a hard time for every cat. That makes it so much harder.
She thinks back to when Goldenblaze took over ThunderClan, when SkyClan had to stave off constant attacks from them. Her Clan had felt closer, standing together against the rejected leader and her followers. They’d all understood the threat they faced.
And they’d won.
The battle is over now. Mothstar is leader of ThunderClan. SkyClan is safe and normal.
And Flickerfox thought she’d made it out alright, with just a minor injury.
But the threat has changed. It clings to her. And just her. And no cat understands it, least of all herself.
StarClan knows, she remembers. That helps. They told Larchsnow it would get better, when she went to the Moonpool for me. That was something I never expected. But I don’t know when. And I don’t know how. And I don’t know how completely.
She sinks her claws into the elm root. There are good things about it, time with Clanmates. Time with Smokewhisker and Nettlepatch and Cloverwish, when they’re around. Lots of ways to help around camp. I go for walks.
She shakes her head. But I worry I won’t want to hunt and climb and patrol anymore, now that I’ve convinced myself not to think about those things.
…But I can’t think about that either. I shouldn’t be thinking about any of this. I’ll make things worse.
Fear grips at her chest, painful and pressing as a hawk’s talons. But what should I think about? Panic edges her breath, and her eyes mist over.
Everything I think about makes things worse. Everything I do makes things worse! Everything’s worse, everything I do…
She blinks. She remembers other nights like this. She blinks again and again, trying to clear away the mist.
Assurance floats just beneath the panic in her mind’s eye, and that helps. Peace and panic, and the first never leaves, even when the second thinks it should. This faith that feels completely beyond me, always out of nowhere. Knowing there’s more. I just can’t see it.
She slides her claws back into their sheathes, leaving behind tiny dents in the smooth elm root. She’s too tired to worry anymore. There will be time to think tomorrow.
Why does understanding feel so urgent, when I have more time than ever to look for it?
She shivers. Maybe because I feel like I never exactly find it.
She rises tremulously to her paws, upset by the thought but setting it aside for now. She yawns. Better get back inside.
She pads carefully away from the elm, back along the short, well-trodden trail to SkyClan camp. Cloverwish nods to her as she passes; her foster sister is standing guard duty again. Tonight, that means keeping an eye on Flickerfox at her elm in case she needs help. Glad I don’t need help tonight. Maybe I’m getting better.
She shivers. Dangerous thought. But I shouldn’t think it’s dangerous… I never know what to think. She holds back a sigh, holds back the fear and the paradox.
Flickerfox weaves her way down into the valley. She listens to the pebbly earth crunch beneath her paws, glad she doesn’t have to measure her steps as carefully as she once did. As she pushes her way beneath the spreading hawthorn branches of the warriors’ den, she welcomes the snores and snuffles of her Clanmates. Not sleeping in the medicine cats’ den anymore.
She settles down into the nest between Sunhaze and Squirreltuft’s, a small, worn purr rising in her chest.
These are the hardest times, she remembers.
She curls up gingerly, careful to mind the cobwebby poultice behind her left ear. Well, if these are the hardest times… She thanks StarClan and closes her eyes. Life might be pretty okay, all things considered.
Flickerfox Paradox
Flickerfox sits against the elm tree’s base, staring into the shadows. It feels as though she’s the only cat in the forest, alone with her nightly thoughts. She gives her chest fur a quick lick, her mind stuttering about. I don’t know what to feel anymore.
A distant owl hoots. Flickerfox stretches out onto her belly, dead leaves crackling beneath her. She reaches out and braces her forepaws against an elm root half-buried in the earth. She is reaching for something stable, something solid. A pawhold. She thinks of StarClan and wonders.
Will I always be alone? She checks herself. Not alone. But this kind of alone.
A chill breeze stirs her whiskers, and she pulls her tail in close to her side. Who am I? What am I doing? She stares at her paws, one black and one ginger. I can’t hunt or fight until my head gets better, until the wound heals up. Until the nausea stops coming every few days. And the dizziness, more often. The shaking.
She sighs. Larchsnow says it’s alright. It’ll just take time. Pinepelt says the same. Applepaw doesn’t know yet. He has time. He’s still learning.
She stares up at the sky, trying to spot Silverpelt through the dense forest canopy above. Am I still learning? Sometimes I feel like I know it all already, but then sometimes I’m overwhelmed by just how little I know. I get mad at myself.
She grits her teeth for a heartbeat, then sighs. This is hard. She remembers what Smokewhisker told her. “This is the hardest thing you’ve had to face. But there’s more to it, and more beyond it. I know we can’t see it yet, but it’s there.”
Flickerfox blinks. She wants to see.
This is the hardest time. Feeling tired, she rests her head on her forepaws. But it’s not a hard time for every cat. That makes it so much harder.
She thinks back to when Goldenblaze took over ThunderClan, when SkyClan had to stave off constant attacks from them. Her Clan had felt closer, standing together against the rejected leader and her followers. They’d all understood the threat they faced.
And they’d won.
The battle is over now. Mothstar is leader of ThunderClan. SkyClan is safe and normal.
And Flickerfox thought she’d made it out alright, with just a minor injury.
But the threat has changed. It clings to her. And just her. And no cat understands it, least of all herself.
StarClan knows, she remembers. That helps. They told Larchsnow it would get better, when she went to the Moonpool for me. That was something I never expected. But I don’t know when. And I don’t know how. And I don’t know how completely.
She sinks her claws into the elm root. There are good things about it, time with Clanmates. Time with Smokewhisker and Nettlepatch and Cloverwish, when they’re around. Lots of ways to help around camp. I go for walks.
She shakes her head. But I worry I won’t want to hunt and climb and patrol anymore, now that I’ve convinced myself not to think about those things.
…But I can’t think about that either. I shouldn’t be thinking about any of this. I’ll make things worse.
Fear grips at her chest, painful and pressing as a hawk’s talons. But what should I think about? Panic edges her breath, and her eyes mist over.
Everything I think about makes things worse. Everything I do makes things worse! Everything’s worse, everything I do…
She blinks. She remembers other nights like this. She blinks again and again, trying to clear away the mist.
Assurance floats just beneath the panic in her mind’s eye, and that helps. Peace and panic, and the first never leaves, even when the second thinks it should. This faith that feels completely beyond me, always out of nowhere. Knowing there’s more. I just can’t see it.
She slides her claws back into their sheathes, leaving behind tiny dents in the smooth elm root. She’s too tired to worry anymore. There will be time to think tomorrow.
Why does understanding feel so urgent, when I have more time than ever to look for it?
She shivers. Maybe because I feel like I never exactly find it.
She rises tremulously to her paws, upset by the thought but setting it aside for now. She yawns. Better get back inside.
She pads carefully away from the elm, back along the short, well-trodden trail to SkyClan camp. Cloverwish nods to her as she passes; her foster sister is standing guard duty again. Tonight, that means keeping an eye on Flickerfox at her elm in case she needs help. Glad I don’t need help tonight. Maybe I’m getting better.
She shivers. Dangerous thought. But I shouldn’t think it’s dangerous… I never know what to think. She holds back a sigh, holds back the fear and the paradox.
Flickerfox weaves her way down into the valley. She listens to the pebbly earth crunch beneath her paws, glad she doesn’t have to measure her steps as carefully as she once did. As she pushes her way beneath the spreading hawthorn branches of the warriors’ den, she welcomes the snores and snuffles of her Clanmates. Not sleeping in the medicine cats’ den anymore.
She settles down into the nest between Sunhaze and Squirreltuft’s, a small, worn purr rising in her chest.
These are the hardest times, she remembers.
She curls up gingerly, careful to mind the cobwebby poultice behind her left ear. Well, if these are the hardest times… She thanks StarClan and closes her eyes. Life might be pretty okay, all things considered.