Whisper Wood
Something Is Listening Beneath the Waves
Written for the 30 Days of Fantasy challenge, hosted by
Mrs. Holloway was preparing for her morning soak, adding lavender salts and humming a tune she'd learned from one of the library's songbooks, when something silver flashed beneath the surface of the water. At first, she thought it was just the light playing tricks through the bathroom window. Then silver flashed again, accompanied by a distinct splash.
"Oh my," Mrs. Holloway said, peering into the tub. A small, iridescent fish with fins like gossamer swam lazy circles around her loofah. "You're definitely not supposed to be here."
The fish, as if understanding her perfectly, performed what could only be described as an apologetic little loop before continuing its gentle patrol of the bathtub.
Mrs. Holloway was still puzzling over this development when she heard Henrik's voice from the town square, raised in what sounded like confusion rather than alarm,"Has anyone seen anything like this before?"
She quickly wrapped herself in her robe and hurried to the window. Henrik stood by the village well, his coffee thermos forgotten on the ground beside him, staring down into the depths with the expression of a man whose understanding of the world had just been gently but firmly rearranged.
"What is it, Henrik?" called Tom the baker's apprentice, jogging over with flour still dusting his apron.
"Fish," Henrik replied, his voice carrying the careful tone of someone who knows how ridiculous they sound. "There are fish in the well."
"Fish," Tom repeated slowly. "In the well."
"Not just any fish," Henrik clarified. "Beautiful ones. They're... they're singing."
And indeed, as Mrs. Holloway listened, she could hear it. A low, melodious humming that seemed to rise from the depths of the well like some ancient lullaby. The sound was hauntingly beautiful, and it made her think of deep places and vast distances, of secrets held in the heart of the ocean.
Esme appeared from the direction of the library, Cosmo trotting at her heels. "The strangest thing just happened," she announced without preamble. "I was reading a book about marine biology in the natural history section, and a fish, an actual, living fish, leaped right out of the pages and landed in my tea cup."
"Purr-snip," Cosmo added helpfully, though his purr-snipping had evolved into something that sounded almost like whale song.
More villagers began to emerge from their homes, each with their own aquatic tale. The blacksmith reported that his quenching barrel now contained what appeared to be a small school of tropical fish. The innkeeper mentioned that her guests had been complaining about strange splashing sounds from the water pitchers in their rooms. Even the village fountain, which had been dry for months, was now overflowing with crystal-clear water that tasted faintly of salt and carried the distant echo of whale songs.
"It's like the ocean is trying to visit us," Esme mused as she accepted a cup of tea from Mrs. Holloway (who had, by now, relocated her new bathtub fish to a large glass bowl and was quite charmed by its company).
The singing from the well grew louder. The fish within began to swim in increasingly complex patterns. Henrik, ever curious despite his recent adventure with the crown, leaned closer to observe.
"The water level is rising," he announced. "And the fish seem to be... arranging themselves? Like they're forming some kind of pattern."
Bibliotheca appeared at the edge of the gathering. Her starlight hair shimmered with sea spray. Her expression was one of anticipation mixed with something that might have been hope.
"Goddess," Esme said, approaching with her tea cup (which now contained both tea and a tiny, rainbow-colored fish that seemed perfectly content with the arrangement). "Do you know what's happening?"
"I have my suspicions," Bibliotheca replied, her voice carrying the cadence of someone trying not to get their hopes up too high. "The ocean has many voices, and sometimes they carry messages across great distances. The fish are following currents that don't exist in your world. Currents of story and song and magic."
The singing from the well intensified, and the water began to bubble and churn. The fish formed a perfect spiral, their scales catching the morning light like living jewels. All around the village, every body of water, from bathtubs to teacups to the newly active fountain, began to resonate with the same magical melody.
"It's beautiful," Mrs. Holloway whispered. The song spoke of vast distances and ancient wisdom, of the patience of tides and the secrets held in the deepest trenches of the sea.
Then, without warning, the water in the well began to rise rapidly. Not overflowing, but rising as if something were displacing it from below. The fish scattered to the edges of the well, their song reaching a crescendo that made the very air shimmer.
"Everyone might want to step back," Bibliotheca said. Her voice carried excitement.
Henrik, ever the curious soul, ignored this advice entirely and leaned closer to the well. "There's something coming up," he reported. "Something big!"
The water erupted upward in a geyser of impossible beauty. Crystal clear and filled with swimming fish and trailing ribbons of liquid starlight. And from the center of this aquatic display, a figure emerged.
He was tall and lean. His silver hair dripped seawater. His skin had the subtle shimmer of someone who had spent time in magical waters, and his eyes held the deep, patient wisdom of the sea itself. He climbed out of the well with the fluid grace of someone equally at home in water and on land, trailing fish and sea foam and the lingering echo of whale song.
"Revilo!" Bibliotheca's voice was filled with such joy and relief that several of the villagers found themselves smiling without quite knowing why.
The man—Revilo—turned toward the goddess with an expression of equal delight. "Bibliotheca! I was hoping I'd find you. The whales have been singing about a new library, and I—" He paused, taking in the gathered villagers with their various aquatic acquisitions. "I seem to have caused quite a stir."
"You brought fish," Henrik said, still holding his coffee thermos and looking remarkably calm for someone who had just witnessed a man emerge from the village well. "They're very beautiful fish."
"And they sing," added Mrs. Holloway, gesturing toward her bowl where her bathtub fish was performing what appeared to be a welcoming dance.
Revilo smiled, and when he did, the remaining water in the well settled to a gentle, musical bubbling. "The sky whales have awoken from their slumber and one guided me. She's been singing your village's story. The tale of the star that fell creating a tree and the people who welcomed magic into their lives with such grace."
"There's a whale?" Tom asked, looking around as if expecting to see one swimming through the air.
"She's listening from the deep places," Revilo explained, gesturing toward the well. "All waters are connected. She can hear you through every puddle, every raindrop, every cup of tea. She's wanted to help me find you."
Esme stepped forward, her tea cup fish performing tiny acrobatics in apparent excitement. "Are you a friend of the goddess?"
"An old friend," Bibliotheca confirmed, moving to stand beside Revilo. "I've been worried about him. He recently had a rather difficult experience with an enchantment, and I wasn't sure..." She trailed off, studying his face with obvious concern.
"I'm quite well," Revilo assured her, his voice gentle. "The enchantment is broken, and I'm myself again. Though I must say, your library called to me across quite a distance. The whale said she could hear the books singing all the way from the deepest trenches."
"The books do sing," Henrik said thoughtfully. "Especially the ones about the ocean. I thought I was imagining it."
"Magic recognizes magic," Revilo replied. "And stories call to stories. The whale has been collecting the songs of your village—the melody of Mrs. Holloway's morning routine, the rhythm of Henrik's daily walks, the harmony of Esme's tea brewing. She says they're some of the most beautiful songs she's ever heard."
"Our daily routines are songs?" Mrs. Holloway asked, delighted.
"Everything is music if you know how to listen," Revilo said. "The whales taught me that. She's been trying to share your songs with the fish, which is why they've been so eager to visit. They wanted to see the place that creates such beautiful music."
Cosmo, who had been unusually quiet during this exchange, suddenly began to purr-snip in a pattern that sounded remarkably like whale song. Revilo laughed, a sound like gentle waves on a peaceful shore.
"Even the cats are singing," he observed. "Your village is more magical than you know."
"It's become more magical since the library arrived," Esme said. "Every day brings something new."
"And some days bring old friends," Bibliotheca added, still smiling at Revilo with obvious relief and affection. "Come, let me show you the library. The whale will be pleased to know you arrived safely."
As they began to walk toward the great sequoia, the fish in the well began to sing again—a gentle, welcoming melody that spoke of friendship and safe harbors and the joy of stories shared. Around the village, the fish in bathtubs and teacups and fountains joined in the chorus, creating a symphony of water and song that seemed to bless the morning with its beauty.
Henrik looked down at his coffee thermos, where a small fish was now swimming in lazy circles through his morning brew. "I suppose I'll need to find a new way to have my coffee," he said, though he sounded more amused than annoyed.
"I find tea works just as well," Esme offered. "And the fish seem to particularly enjoy chamomile."
The sound of their laughter joined the whale's distant song, creating a harmony that would echo through the connected waters of the world, carrying the story of Whisper Wood to anyone who knew how to listen.
---
To be continued... (26 days remaining)