literature

Everlasting Peace

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Literature Text

Everlasting Peace
The wind rustled the leaves of the old willow tree, as Cheyenne Arrow leapt, graceful as an arrow from a bow, and landed delicately on the hard rock under the great tree, named Katutura, and sang her happiness with the cold wind that blew from the prairies below. She knew nothing but happiness. She and her tribe, Onandowaga, the people of the mountains, were blissfully happy, springing and climbing the great trees, sliding on pelt covered wood, down the snowy slopes, and singing their tribal songs around the campfire, drinking cocoa bean juice, and eating fine salad from the generous farmers down on the prairie. Everything was perfect.

Cheyenne was reclining on the lowest branch of the Katutura tree, shooting arrows at the nearest sapling. Her cat, Sparrow, a beautiful calico tortoiseshell, mewed and leapt daintily from one branch to the next, looking pointedly at Cheyenne, and then purred, trying to get the arrow that Cheyenne had just shot over the nearest branch. Cheyenne laughed and retrieved it herself. Looking at Sparrow, she tossed it neatly over the tiny stone hill, and whistled to Sparrow, to get her to retrieve it. The calico yowled and leapt of the great tree, trotting after the arrow, and then returned with it clutched in its little jaws. Cheyenne was getting very sleepy, after playing all day, and went back to the great big tent which she and her father, the chief, the great Samoa, lived in. The walls of the tent were moleskin, and the floor of the great tent was flax. Already there, her father smiled a sad smile at her. “Come to me, my child I must tell you something, something that I would entrust to no one else…” her Father sighed. This made Cheyenne very curious, so she settled down next to her father, Sparrow purring by her side. “Father, I must ask you something…. Do you think that my feather is nice? I found it by the stream!” she babbled joyfully. Her father sighed wearily. “Yes, but that is exactly why I need to speak to you, Cheyenne. You are a beautiful girl, so happy and full of life… but you are hurting the environment,” her father confessed. Cheyenne looked crestfallen. “Am I? I’m so sorry if I am, but how?” Suddenly after a long, painful silence, her father wailed, making Cheyenne jump a foot in the air. “The feather, Cheyenne, the feather! Don’t you know? Its cursed! The feather! It makes the beautiful, cold wind, just disappear, and replaces it with the hot sands and deserts, with boiling sandstorms, and-and-!” he screeched, as if he were being attacked with a million knives, and trampled with bulls, all for his daughter’s sake. “And, I- I must now- I can’t!” Then, he took the dagger in his belt, made of a saber-toothed lion’s tooth, and stabbed it into his chest, the, he let out a high, ringing wail, and was still. Then, Cheyenne collapsed.

Her father’s wail still ringing in her ears, Cheyenne lay on the flax floor of her tent, her father’s cold, blood covered hand tight in her hand, and his dagger in the other. She knew what she had to do. Gathering all her courage, looking with sorrow upon her father’s blank, yet not peaceful face, and thrust the dagger with all her might, into her chest. Pain, like she had never felt before, raged across her whole body, tearing at her once happy mind, and ripping her soul, shredding each limp muscle, and her weak limbs fell, getting weaker each cut she made into her bruised, bloodied chest, where her dead heart was laying, it’s last thud already faded.

If she ever would wake up, if she was dead, where she was, where her father lay, many questions circled her mind, but she lay still. She did not care. Global warming was gone, her father was safe, so was she, they were warm…. Nothing else mattered. “My child. You are so brave…” Surprised, Cheyenne looked up. Her father, not bloodied and cut, but clean and happier than Cheyenne had ever seen him, smiled down at her. Only now was Cheyenne conscious of what she was wearing.  A short leather dress, white, with braids hanging of it, and black, leather boots, with stone buttons down the sides. Her hair was one, smooth braid down her shoulder, and around her neck was a pendant, with a tiny arrow on it. Seeing Cheyenne’s amazement, her father laughed. “Oh, noticed, have you? We look much better here than anywhere else,” he chuckled. Cheyenne just smiled. She lay down, her father at her side, and, to her amazement, Sparrow, the beautiful calico, lay at her side. Then it hit her. Here, with her family, and perfectly happy, she closed her eyes. Nothing else mattered. Then, she opened her eyes for the last time. She saw her father’s smiling face, her cat’s chest rising and falling with her every deep, sleepy breath, and knew, that nothing, not even death, could bring them apart. And then, she closed her eyes, resting in her eternal bed of peace.
This is a story I wrote for school, but I find it quite one of my best, I simply had to give it in here 
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WinterMidnightFlame's avatar
The end made me cry!! Waaaah