Morgan Poppe

Psych. 200.01

4/17/08

How the Water Came to Ripple

Once, in the time when the world was just beginning to grow, a great forest thrived, and near its eastern edge a magnificent house resided. The Lord of the house was revered by all to be wise, kind, and powerful. There was never any problem on their borders, for those seemingly enchanted trees encircled the land, and the people were shielded from the horrors of the real world. The sun only ever shone upon them and they never knew the pain of living unenchanted lives. Only few ever left the forest’s protection and if they returned, they spoke nothing of what they saw. All were content to live with this though, all but one.

Her name was Ripple, the daughter of the lord, she was kind, and soft voiced, and with hair the color of raven’s wings and eyes the blue of ice. And yet, no one returned her kindness for they only saw what she was not. She was an illegitimate child, one born of love rather than law. In their minds and in hushed voices she was a seed of the impure, the bastard daughter of the Lord.

Ripple knew what these people thought of her and, even though it hurt, she did not show it. She continued being kind. Her father loved her, promising that he could love her enough for everyone. And yet, when she was eight, the Lord grew ill. One night the darkness closed in and never lifted from Ripple’s heart. Ripple had suddenly found her self terribly alone.

For many more years, Ripple continued to keep to herself, as she had only one other small friend, a little cat like a ray of stray sunshine. But she took her father’s words to heart. “Ripple,” he told her, “No matter where you are, someone will always love you, even if you don’t’ know it.”

One day, Ripple spoke to the little girl that followed a maid into her room, asking her what her name was. The little girl gave Ripple a terrified look before running behind the maid. The woman embarrassedly explained that the child was merely shy and hurried her out of the room. After they left, Ripple sat by her window and wept.

Ripple knew why the little girl was afraid and it was not because she was shy. The girl was afraid of her.

Of all the terrible whisperings floating through the halls of the great house; all the unkind glances that were directed at her, this was the most cruel. A child of that innocence revered Ripple with unjust fear and cut deeper than any sword. The only reason she had been kept here was the Lord’s last wishes. Her uncle obeyed his wish but nothing more.

It was then that Ripple knew she was intended for nothing more than a shameful stain on this great house, one that everyone desired gone but could not remove. She was nothing more and nothing less.

“I will give them what they want,” Ripple told her one and only companion, the cat she lovingly named Mentra when she found the animal at a young age. Her father, the Lord, could not bear to take the small, golden creature away from his child for she had lovingly named it after her mother. The cat, despair touching her keen senses, had climbed into her beloved’s lap and regarded Ripple with unjudging stare filled with unquestioning agreement. So, Ripple gathered her things; a comb, a pair of thick shoes, a warm cloak, and a few other bare necessities before storing them in a bag and putting the cloak around her. It was hot and heavy, but she would manage. Ripple crept silently out of her room, stopping only long enough to glance once more at her belongings and shut the door softly.

Ripple moved quietly, knowing if someone saw her they would figure out her plans and catch her. Then they would make sure she would never have the chance again. Mentra, the cat, ran on ahead as if she fully understood Ripple’s intentions and was serving watching for others.

Once outside and at the edge of the trees, Ripple stared for a moment at the large oaken house that had served as her home for many years. She thought of the sunny places in which she played and the fine things she had but remembered the dark shadow that hung over all of them. Ripple set her back to the house and let the forest swallow her.

Ripple walked for a few hours watching as Mentra chased little things here and there, a smile on her face. Her legs were achy, the cloak heavy and hot, snagging at branches as if to hold her back. But still she was happy. She was getting her chance to see what was out there. Ripple knew that people left through the forest and returned with many things for Ripple had watched their departure and arrival. All she had to do was get through the forest. But when would it end?

At one point, Ripple happened upon a small lake concealed in the forest. Trees crowded the edge of the water, luscious with thick foliage and crawling, springy moss. The water was calm, smooth as polished stone. Mentra seemed to enjoy the place as well as she set out to find a way in which she could claim it when Ripple sat down. Ripple was glad for a chance to rest her weary feet in some beautiful surroundings. She relaxed near the edge of the lake in a sandy spot, letting her feet dangle in the water, delighting in the small, jeweled fishes dancing in the sunlit shallows. Her heart felt lighter. Then she saw a strange sight.

Walking (or was it drifting?) towards her was a woman of ethereal beauty. Ripple stared, knowing it was impolite but she could not help herself. The woman called Ripple’s name, her voice bright and tinkling, filled with sunshine and as gentle as waving branches. Ripple said nothing, awed, and afraid. The woman came closer; wild, wavy hair, the color of the water lapping at Ripple’s feet and her eyes the green of the trees. Her presence was that of the tallest tree and her form as graceful and delicate as a drop of dew. Her clothing seemed to be made from all the rich colors of the land around her. The rings on her fingers, the bracelets around her slender wrists, and the delicate jewels laced about her neck and on her brow sparkled like the fish by Ripple’s feet.

Ripple asked her if she owned this land, apologizing for intruding, for if she had known he would have gone another way. The woman laughed, a delightful sound likened to that of a trickling waterfall, before saying that this land was no one’s; it could not be owned. Ripple then asked if whether or not she was of this world. The woman sat down next to her and said no.

“I am the Goddess of all the earthen water; guardian of lakes and rivers, puddle and ponds. Caretaker of all the creatures residing in the water’s depths,” Ripple suddenly realized she had stumbled on a place where the material and the mysterious touched. Ripple bowed before the goddess, asking for forgiveness.

“Child, I’m not angry with you. The forest led you to this place for me and not as an enchanted slave, but a companion to learn the water’s secrets. For I was lonely as you are,” Ripple said nothing in fear that she would wake up from this wonderfully terrifying dream.

“But for now you must return home for we cannot stay long today,” Ripple watched this graceful woman stand and leave without a sound; her elegant dress hardly making a rustle. Mentra, coming to stand by Ripple, watched this woman’s departure with silence that seemed deeper than usual. At a distance Ripple watched, stunned as the woman dissolved into a fine mist and dissipated.

Ripple eventually did as she was bade, sad at the prospect of returning; mystified and thrilled at what she had just experienced. Ripple, having marked her path in case, found her way home and slipped in just as quietly as she had gone as dusk descended. That night Ripple asked that she be excused for the evening leaving people to wonder aloud at what had changed in her. She had developed a new brightness in her eye and a bounce in her walk. Many saw her transformation as something to be cautious of. Something had taken a hold of this already cursed daughter who had shattered the purity of their home.

For many more days after that Ripple returned to the lake as often as she could, passing off any questions as to where she was going with a simple answer of enjoying long walks. No one followed for they were highly superstitious people and preferred ignorance.

The goddess taught her many things of the water and it’s mysteries. She learned of all the plants and animals. Which way rivers flowed and how they spread their many arms to embrace even the most remote and forgotten parts of the earth. How some water fled into the sky; how some hid underground in magnificent caverns; of how the lakes formed. Ripple finally understood where the love her father had spoke of came from. Yet, each visit, the time Ripple shared with the Goddess shortened little by little.

Mentra also enjoyed these outings following Ripple to the lake, and then abandoning her to explore.

On one of these visits, Ripple sat at the edge of the water again, waiting for the goddess. She tossed pebbles into the lake watching with a pleased smile as each one dropped beneath the water creating one small wave then leaving the surface unobstructed once more. The little fishes stirred into a fluttering fury by the sudden chaos that broke into their sunny existence. The last time the Goddess appeared, it had been only a short visit and Ripple was keen to learn more. Ripple waited for the goddess to appear growing anxious with the ever-passing time. Soon it became apparent that she wasn’t going to appear that day.

Ripple disappointed, but not disheartened, returned home. For three more days Ripple went to the lake, to stare out across the glossy distance, only to return home a little sadder and a little more of her hope lost in those chilling waters.

On the fourth day Mentra sat by her side and they waited together. Again the Goddess did not show.

Ripple knew then that she would not return. A deep sense anguish blossomed in her chest at being abandoned again by the only being that ever cared for her. Despite Mentra’s attempts to comfort her, Ripple wept again, her tears adding to lake’s water, each one of their lonely waves blending and mixing in a continuous flow. Ripple cried for a long time, diminishing her stock of tears. She suddenly stood, staring across the water’s expanse as her last tear fell into the water, its single wave reaching to caress every bit of the expansive shore.

Her eyes still shining, Ripple walked slowly into the water while her friend watched silently from the shore. The feline green eyes reflected thoughtfulness. As the top of Ripple’s head disappeared, a wave was sent forth followed by another and another slightly smaller than the last. The waves continued to break the perfection of the smooth water but they were eventually overcome and the lake was smooth once more. She never returned.

From this day on, every time anything touches water, it sets forth what is known as a ripple, to remind you of all the sorrow and tears in the world caused by loneliness. And after the silent sigh of the water, if you listen very closely, you can hear the quiet sound of softly padded feet walking away on a sandy shore.

I personally really like this story. I think it captures the best of my imagination, my love for reading and writing, and my abilities. I’m sorry it was long but this has been in production since my high school junior year. I add more every time I come back to it. It started as a class assignment but I continued to work on it, using things I learned from reading good literature. I have two themes, some basic literary techniques, and some powerful imagery (I hope).