Stories and Poems for Wellbeing
At Takiri Wellbeing we are passionate about writing as a form of expression so we'd like to share some of our own Stories and Poems with you.
Horace The Dragon
(A fable about endings)
by Beth Roberts
Horace the Dragon lived on a windswept Cornish Cliff. He was known for being mild yet strong and what he was known for most were the fourteen scales upon his back. Each scale was unique and a thing of rare beauty. The scales complemented each other so wonderfully; at times the whole seemed greater than the sum of its’ parts.
At Horace’s naming ceremony when he was a baby, the Master of Ceremonies named, not only Horace, but each of his fourteen scales. The turquoises, violets, bronzes, reds and blues of the scales shone like jewels in the sunlight as the Master of Ceremonies spoke.
‘This scale,’ she said, pointing to the scale on the tip of his tail, ‘with its’ intricate, yet understated pattern is called Modesty. The scale next to it has a daring pattern of swirls and peaks: I will call you Adventure. This scale has an unwavering straight line: I will call you determination. This scale has a curious pattern of flowers and shells: I will call you creativity. This scale has a deep red hue with a strong outline: you are fortitude. This orange and yellow scale with its’ wiggly lines causes me to laugh: I will call you laughter. This deep blue scale looks sturdier than the rest: you are Resilience.’
She went on to name the other scales Presence, Intuition, Kindness, Authenticity, Energy, Knowledge and Peace.
As Horace grew up, although he would never hurt anyone unnecessarily it became clear he could breathe the deadliest fire on anyone who threatened him or the community. As there were tales far and wide about his stunning scales there were often pirates who would try and steal them from his back. He didn’t kill the pirates if he could help it, but they always left empty handed.
One night there was a ferocious storm and on that night a pirate ship came in at the bottom of Horace’s cliff. Horace hoped that they were just sheltering from the bad weather, but it quickly became apparent that this wasn’t the only reason the pirate ship had come to shore.
Being a gentle dragon Horace turned to breathe fire at the vicious pirate a moment too late. The lightning struck Horace’s tail at the same time as the pirate’s sword and Horace watched in horror and sorrow as the fourteen exquisite scales drifted into the sea. The only silver lining, at this point, seemed to be, that the pirate didn’t get to take any of the scales away with him.
Quite a crowd of angry villagers had assembled by this point and they all watched in awe as each of the scales ignited into a new life on the crests of individual waves. Presence towered over the other waves, watching over them. Intuition filtered her orange light through the whole ocean. Kindness enveloped herself around the more delicate waves. Authenticity emanated an unusually captivating light of purple and black. Energy stirred everyone up and made the ocean come alive. Knowledge taught the other waves the ways of the water. Peace quelled the storm and made the ocean blue again.
Before long Horace grew fourteen new scales, just as beautiful as the last but very different. People still came from far and wide to the cliff to see Horace’s beautiful tail, but they also visited to watch the amazing light display in the ocean beneath.
The Lady with a Stone in her Throat
A Fable by Beth Roberts
There was a lady who had a stone in her throat. She tried to ignore it but it impacted her greatly. She felt heavy inside so that her shoulders and head hung downwards. Her heaviness also meant that she found it difficult to get up in the morning and she found it nearly impossible to speak.
Her difficulty in speaking meant that she found it problematic to tell healers about her plight. They’d simply just look at her quizzically and tell her to gargle with salt water, something that dismayed and baffled her greatly. How could salt water dislodge something so old and entrenched?
Due to her condition there were limited occupations available to her so she ended up working at the local quarry shifting stones. There was something about her lumbering gait which suited the work and what difference would many more stones make when she had one lodged inside her?
One day, in what she said was a last ditch attempt to heal her life, she went to see a different healer who didn’t tell her to gargle with salt water. He didn’t look at her as if she was annoying or even lying like the others had done. He tried to listen to her and whilst he couldn’t fully understand what she was saying he at least tried.
Whilst the stone was still there it wasn’t so uncomfortable and she found it a little easier to get up in the mornings. Her gait wasn’t as lumbering as it had been and she wondered if working at the quarry continued to serve her. Now that she stood and walked a little straighter she found piling the stones one upon the other an uncomfortable pastime.
One sunny Monday morning she set down a particularly large rock and then found herself stretching to the sky. Effortlessly and it seemed involuntarily she said: ‘I don’t want to do this anymore!’ Everyone turned and looked at her. Finally she had been heard. The stone finally dislodged from her throat. She held it in her hand and looked at it.
She was surprised to see that the stone was beautiful. She had always imagined it to be an ugly thing but it was a painted stone with magentas, pinks and whites. She took it to her healer and said: ‘I’m surprised it’s so lovely!’ He told her: ‘of course it is, it’s come from you. It doesn’t serve you well inside you but perhaps you should keep it so you can look at it from time to time.’
She did what the healer said and kept the stone on her mantelpiece. It reminded her of the day she finally spoke her truth.