[stylist] fantasy prompt

[Donna Hill]

Eve,
This is almost poetic in the way you use and repeat certain lines and
concepts. I like it, though I do have one problem in the following paragraph
Block quote
Only she knew of all her adventures and only she knew of what was to come.
She remembered, while looking upon the lunar reflection upon the moving
waters.
Block quote end

It's the use of the word "upon" twice. I can't quite put a handle on why it
bothers me when you do the same thing with "only" and that doesn't. I think
part of it is that  this sentence sounds incomplete, almost gramatically
wrong, and perhaps the second "upon" adds to that. Perhaps, it's that I
generally think of the verb "to remember" as more suited to having an
object, so I'm waiting for what exactly she remembered instead of hearing it
as more like "reflected." 
Donna

-----Original Message-----
From: stylist [mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On Behalf Of Eve Sanchez
Sent: Monday, April 15, 2013 11:46 PM
To: Writer's Division Mailing List
Subject: [stylist] fantasy prompt

Alright, I'll bite. This is my cup  after all. By the way, funny thing; my
3 year old grand daughter stole mbag tonight and was swinging it around the
house. Who needs expensive toys?   Seriously, I am working on a series of
stories centered around the Fae thaine mythologies and legends from around
the world. For those that do not know, the Fae are better known as the
Faeries, the beings of another realm. Well, here is one of my pieces and I
will warn for those faint of heart, is descriptions of her body. I do not
find it sexual, but I have been told bers that it is. So in other words; you
might not want to read it if you are worrieut the human anatomy.  I was not
going to share any of th, but since Bridget brought it up...

Raven

                Her breasts, as perfect as two peas with tiny nipples
pointing the way, sat above a slender waist that smoothly blended into
narrow hips of youthfulness, though she was immortal. Her derriere though,
was as prominent as her breasts, causing balance and harmony in her form.
Her skin was a black blue like the panting tongue of a dog from the orient,
yet it shone more than beautiful on her. There was nothing coarse about her.
Even if one was to stroke her nether hair they would proclaim it as soft and
silky as the above ebony tresses and as glossy black as the feathered wings
folded across her back.

                She sat perched on the tiniest of branches of a great
Northern spruce, looking out upon the tides visible in the glow of the moon.
She sat with one muscular leg folded under her and the other raised so that
she may rest her hand upon her knee. She watched as the water swelled,
crested, and rolled in as far as it dared to go, wetting sand and stone
alike. She watched as the water then receded leaving a trail of bubbles, as
trapped air from beneath the dampened sand was released. She watched this
knowing it was only possible because of her thievery. She looked up at the
stars and moon and smiled, her black eyes twinkling in their glow.

                This was the tween time, the time between night and day. It
was the time between dark and light. It was her time. Those who remembered
her, remembered her as the wise trickster bird. This was fine with her
though she was more than bird. She did her greatest work in the form of a
human boy child, but she was more than a human. She was Fae, and this was
her time. These were her people, her clan, and this was her Mother Earth.
She was Raven.

                All around the world, she was known by many names. She was a
trickster, a thief, a messenger, and deity, both Goddess and God. She was
Raven. She thought of the many stories told about her as she traveled
through the ages visiting and touching the children of Mother Earth
throughout its Northern regions, as she preferred, for she only did as she
wished and went where she desired. Only she knew of all her adventures and
only she knew of what was to come. She remembered, while looking upon the
lunar reflection upon the moving waters.

                Long ago, it is told, she posed as the grandchild of the
Creator. He who held the moon and stars, the sun and daylight all in baskets
woven with intricate designs, had refused to let them loose. He had
protected them from all and kept them safely hidden from molestation, but
she knew that in her chosen form she would prevail. Not even the Great
Creator could deny his dearest grandson. And so, after much trickery, it was
done. They had been loosed for all the world.

                The fishermen of the night knew no tides, yet they caught
their salmon. The hunters of the night knew no moonlight, yet they killed
their stag. The women of the night knew no sunshine, yet they raised strong
children. They knew no other way and yet were happy and content. Raven,
always greedy as we know, was not content. She planned and prevailed. She
filled the sky with light and gifted the Earth with warmth from the sun.
Should a thief feel remorse? Raven felt none.

                Though The People did not normally sanctify thievery or
deception, they honored Raven and do so still to this day. How could there
be anger towards someone giving such gifts? The People looked to the moon
and told of time's passage. They learned to read the stories written within
the stars. They appreciated the comfort and life provided by the sun and
lived fully in daylight. The People did not persecute Raven for her crimes.
No, they honored the wise bird and remember her gifts to this day.

                She stood, with the wane light of the tween time
silhouetting her diminutive form and looked to the moon and stars. She felt
no remorse. As her world was between spiritual and physical, this was her
time. As she was busiest between the old night and the day she gifted, this
was her time. As she thought of the creatures that stirred in this tween
time, neither dark nor light, she knew they were hers and that she loved
them. This was her time and she was content with it as much as greedy Raven
could ever be content with anything.

                With her memories of the past and ideas of what was to come,
she spread her wings and leapt from the bough, falling into the still air,
until the wind caught her up and held her suspended before she took flight.
Turning in an arc, she circled a totem with her likeness, the likeness of
the trickster bird. She is remembered still. She flew counter to the
rotation of Mother Earth so as to stay ahead of the day. She flew to stay
within the tween time. This was her time, between what was past and that to
come, and she had no remorse for her crimes.