Fairy tales for young and old ~ English version

The Heartstone

(This is a tale written to represent fibromyalgia, as my mother and myself are both suffering from it)

Once upon a time, in a realm where the whispers of nature were the songs of life, there existed an ancient grove of Willows. These were no ordinary trees; they were the Whispering Willows, guardians of the land, whose leaves sang with the winds of wisdom and roots ran deep with the earth's oldest secrets.

In the village nearby, there lived a young woman named Evelina. Evelina's life was a quiet ballet of perseverance, each movement measured and deliberate. Her mornings began with a stiffness that clung to her limbs like the morning dew to leaves, a persistent reminder that her body was a vessel of constant, unspoken discomfort. As the day unfolded, a fatigue draped over her like a heavy cloak, its weight often too cumbersome to shed. It was a fatigue that sleep could not lift, a tiredness of the soul as much as the flesh.

Her pains were like uninvited guests, lingering long after they had overstayed their welcome. They roamed her body with a capriciousness that left her feeling as though she were a map of tender territories, each day charting a new course of aches that no compass could predict. The pain ebbed and flowed like the tides, sometimes a dull throb in her joints, other times a sharp pang that seized her unexpectedly, as if her very bones were made of fragile glass.

It was on a day when the sky was painted with the soft hues of dawn, and the world was still shaking off the shroud of night, that Evelina set out from her humble cottage at the edge of the village.

With a heart full of hope and a basket slung over her arm, she ventured into the wilds in search of berries. The forest was a labyrinth of green, each path a new mystery, each clearing a fresh canvas of nature's artistry. Evelina had always been drawn to the untamed beauty of the woods, the way the trees whispered secrets on the wind, secrets she yearned to understand.

As she wandered, lost in the melody of birdsong and the rustle of leaves, Evelina found herself drawn to a part of the forest she had never explored. The trees here were older, their trunks etched with the wisdom of ages, their branches a canopy of protection against the intrusions of the world.

And then, she stumbled upon a clearing she had never seen before, a hidden sanctuary where time seemed to stand still. The grove was a cathedral of Willows, their slender forms reaching towards the heavens, their leaves a chorus of hushed tones. Evelina stood on the threshold, her breath a captive of wonder, her pains momentarily forgotten in the face of such ethereal beauty.

The grove was untouched by the hands of time, a secret place that had waited for Evelina, or so it seemed. The Willows, with their serene rustling, seemed to resonate with her unspoken challenges, offering her moments of tranquility amidst her relentless storm. Feeling like she found a refuge in this place, she decided to come back often, just sitting under the trees and feeling the sweet caress of the winds on her face.

On a night when the heavens were draped in a tapestry of stars, Evelina found herself drawn to the Whispering Willow grove, as if by an unseen force. The air was charged with an energy that made her skin tingle, and the Willows... they were different. Their usual gentle rustling was replaced by a chorus of urgent whispers that seemed to call out to her very soul.

The Willows' whispers grew more insistent, weaving through the night air like threads of urgency, tugging at the edges of Evelina's consciousness. She stepped forward, her heart pounding in rhythm with the ancient heartbeat of the grove. The trees leaned in, their branches swaying as if to share a heavy burden.

"Evelina," they murmured, their voices a symphony of sorrow, "we are the keepers of balance, the weavers of life's tapestry. But our strength wanes, and with it, the land suffers. You have been chosen, dear Listener, for a quest of salvation."