🍂Hybrid : part microstory, part epic style poetry. Think Homer here : (not that I have the literary balls to compare myself with him.) A reference only. Or similar things. Once again loosely referenced as always.
And yes, I'm aware that this hybrid style of writing is not recognized but I don't really care. To thine own self be true and FUCK what anyone else thinks.
Based loosely on, and deeply inspired by, the true story of two Maori sisters/cousins (can't remember which), who were travelling through bushland in old, pre-colonial New Zealand and saw a naked Maori warrior up a tree snaring wood pigeons. Both wanted him for a husband, so they fought over him ; politely at first then it escalated into a seriously heated dispute. This dispute swept others into it, including a tribal elder whose advice these women sought as a means of ending it. And it was his decision concerning the naked warrior, that brought the dispute finally, to an end. One 'claimed' him, while the other's heart was broken.
The true life legend is called : The Story of Marutuahu.
~ Marutuahu belonged to a Hauraki tribe or the people of Hauraki.
Warrior Twins : He had a twin brother Parutuahu, who was ostracized from the tribe and exiled. He went up north to Ngapuhi and lived with their people.
This is what I know about my adoptive family's history and if there are mistakes to this truncation of facts, then I apologize. I do know that these twins parted company when they became fully grown men. That's true. I can't remember why this split occurred.
Plot foundation : The law of attraction.
The power of the mind to attract what it thinks.
Falconer :: Microstory Blend.
The towering waterfall fell as if from the sky, should he gaze up at it from the rock where he stood at its base. It thundered into a deep, still basin which seamlessly joined an icy, energetic river which travelled through an even deeper, open valley.
Apart from the roaring voice of water, the valley barely spoke back to him except through the rich variety of bird calls ; especially one ~ the Falcons.
Dark rainforest canopy covered the valley leaving the stone cliff face with its narrow, white ribbon of water exposed to the heavens, lightning and burning elements that time immemorial had long forgotten. The birds flew, drifted and glided all day long and well into the early evening, hugging the cliffside as a spindle hand would a compass face.
Falconer, who stood at the waterfall's feet, was a massive sentinel himself. His seven feet of girth and muscle belied description, yet he was gentle in body and manner. The satin earth tone of his smooth skin glowed. He had large hazel-gold eyes with matching brows that arched in a dramatic frame above them. Those eyes bore no guile nor menace ; his soul was as open as the natural elements around him. His lips emanated a quiet sensuality, which held every woman who beheld them in their grip of pure tenderness.
And those hands at the end of his powerful wrists! Those living expressions of grit, determination and gruelling hours of honest work. The calloused skin told a story of a life lived on the edge of a tomorrow that never existed.
His thick, straw hair was bound with soft leather strips and reached the soft indent of his tailbone above his bare, muscled buttocks. He was naked and livened by his recent bath in the basin pool. Every muscle shone with rivulets of iced water dripping from his shivering physique. He smiled at the day ahead and dried off quickly, then donned a worn pair of rough cloth leggings that barely covered his navel. The sensuous curve of each hip bone parenthesized the heavy, muscular warp and weft of his midriff and chest. Each muscle expressed itself in a gentle flex of natural strength as he went about dressing. Lastly, he shod his beautiful feet with ox skin moccasins lined with sheepskin and decorated with delicate armadillo scales and tiny obsidian beads. He required no socks, they were that warm.
• Then he looked up to search the skies through the small opening in the canopy above him. A low whistle emanated from his lips as he threw back his head, cupped a hand to the side of his mouth and let out a decibel defying holler : "Cara cara! Cara cara!" For ten whole minutes and to be heard over the thunderous water.
|Word count - 364|
My head is hurting. I'll write in the morning...Wednesday 28/12/23.
Main Action :
○ 200 mph swoop dive of his three pet Peregrines coming back to him : this is the hook.
○ Two women half a mile downstream gathering wild fruit and fishing see the diving birds : this is the attraction.
○ The meeting of Falconer, his birds and the twin sisters.
The Fight. (Poetic prose.)
○ The walk back to the village (twins).
○ The climb back up the cliff face to his home : Falconer. (He lives beside the waterfall.)
○ The family confrontation / dispute (twins). The artist twin draws Falconer.
○ Falconer dreams.
○ The village meeting with the chief. The decision.
○ Falconer is joined in his cliff house by his wife-to-be.