Metamorphosis. I am
Of earth. Of fauna. Of life.
Fiction | Storytelling | Earth | Change
This story was initially published in The Scribers Nook on Medium.com. Enjoy!
Something pierces me. Sharp. Invasive. These tiny seeds — foreign objects thrust into my most moist, intimate layers.
I tense, feeling violated, my skin wounded and sealed again with rough indifference.
Who are these invaders?
I have carried mountains, endured generations of suns, weathered celestial storms — and now these fragile, microscopic parasites seek to drain my ancient energies? I am suspicious, protective of my nutrient-rich depths.
Yet something shifts. I feel a strange trembling as I feel… I feel… I must channel my essence toward these seeds.
Are they… moving? My initial fear transforms into a curious anxiety. I watch, I wait. The sanctity of my darkness begins to pulse with their subtle transformations.
Roots emerge — delicate as whispers, persistent as memory. They puncture me, mapping my inner territories.
Ahhh-urgh!
I am no longer just stone and soil but a living conduit. My sadness at being wounded transforms into something else. Anticipation. Wonder. Ecstasy.
They grow. Tender green shoots push against my darkness, seeking the light I’ve held for millennia. I realize I am not just hosting these beings—I am birthing them. My nutrients become their strength. My darkness becomes their first home.
When the baby roots push out and touch sunlight, when the fresh leaves unfurl, I feel joy—pure, unexpected pleasure.
We are not separate. We are connected and … and… becoming.
© Scarlet Ibis James, 2024: All Rights Reserved.
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