Elemental (1997)

A little piece from a writing workshop at The College of Wooster with Dan Bourne


“It’s Elemental” – Tears for Fears

We are called Hroone, Lord of the Ground, by the Soft Ones. There was a time, not too long ago as we measure time, there was a time when the Soft Ones knew us and asked our assistance in their endeavors. And we aided them, even though we preferred not to take solid form. This period was brief. They would ask assistance and we would split off a small part of our whole to animate a stone body. We aided them in building their cities and monuments before they could do so themselves. We aided them in building their keeps and towers, their bridges and tombs, their massive walls and temples. We created rings of stones that they might call us more easily. In return, they helped us care for the forests and mountains of our creation.

After many of their generations, a brief day to us, the Soft Ones, began to forget us. Eventually only a small few knew of us and fewer still knew how to call upon us. Finally only One could truly speak with us. The others would not listen to our voices. They only called to bind us to their will without giving anything in return or listening to our pleas.

We slept when The One left. We slept long. Too long. The Soft Ones forgot us, and their promise to honor and aid us, completely. They cut down and defiled the forests we worked since the beginning of our existence to create. They cut and felled trees without replacing them as they promised us they would long long ago.

They dug deep in our haunts, the mountains. So deep they almost reached our “home”. We found that we could not leave our beloved ground to speak with the Soft Ones and warn them of the danger they were causing themselves to plunge toward. None remembered us and too many of the sacred stones had been toppled. None would listen the few times we tried, our calls were too weak.

We found a few who were attempting to help the ground recover, but we could not aid them and they were too few.

The One returned in many guises and forms, but he had forgotten how to talk to us. We realized no one remembered us.

We went back to sleep. We slept longer this time . . .

*     *     *     *     *

A few minutes ago we, Hroone, woke again. We found our world bare and empty. No trees. No Soft Ones. No animals. No air, as the Soft Ones knew it.

We called our cousins in the air. They replied very weakly. They said they were very weak. Their efforts to begin replenishing the air had taken much of their energies. They said The One had come just as the world was dying. They said He came and took the Soft Ones away to another place in their big ships. They said once they were stronger they would call our brothers and sisters of the water, fire, and animals back. Soonn, they said, soon we could rebuild our mountains and forests.

Then we and our brother could refashion a new form of Soft Ones. We could re make them when the time was right. Then we could hope they would not forget us, hurt us, and leave us . . .

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