This is one I wrote while I was in college. The idea came to me when I found out that cranes like to be around bodies of water.
The Dance Of The Paper Cranes
In the small rural town of Houterray, John Garischen dreamed of the day he would see a crane up close. Every year when the days began to get shorter, he would look to the sky to see the passing of the migrating cranes.
At the outskirts of the town lived a young lady by the name of Sierra Dophlet who stayed by herself in a little cabin by the barren Field of Treachery. She never left her house and the townsfolk left her alone. Each week, John put a basket of food on her front porch because he had known her father before he had died.
One afternoon, as he went to make the drop off, he saw that her door was open. He heard a voice whisper, "Please don't leave me."
"Sierra?"
"I don't want to be alone."
"I brought you some. . ."
"I know. Please come and sit for a while."
"I haven't been in here since before your father. . ."
"Since he died. You knew my father?"
"Farmer Dophlet is what I used to call him. I used to help him reap during the harvest season."
"He loved that field of his. That's why my mother left him. When I was only five, she took me to live in Tucson." I always resented being taken away from my dad."
"He was a good man."
"He used to read me a bedtime story called, 'With What Shall Orange Rhyme?' I don't remember how it went."
"'Once there was an orange. It was nice and round like an orange should be.'"
Sierra's eyes lit up. "You've heard it?"
"Oh yeah, it used to be my favorite," John grinned.
"Mine too. The orange was looking for something to rhyme with orange."
"'Well, it doesn't rhyme with me,' said the tree quite rudely," John quoted from memory.
Sierra laughed. "Oh, then he talks to that cat who starts bragging about all the things with which cat rhymes."
John couldn't help but to laugh himself. "I could just see a cat doing that, you know?"
Sierra's face became serious as she remembered the next part of the story. "The rock says, 'Don't you know that nothing rhymes with orange?'"
"I usually fell asleep by that point," John lied.
"Sometimes I feel just like that orange. I had always wished that the migrating cranes would stop to rest here, but no one else I know seems to care."
"Every year, when the leaves start to change color, I watch for the cranes. All my life I've wanted to see one up close. No one in this town seems to believe that it can ever happen. They used to, but for the longest time, I thought I was the only one who still believed."
"My dad used to promise me that one day they would come, but when I moved to the city, I lost all hope."
"Is that why you moved back here?"
"When my dad died, he left the field and the cabin to me. I was never happy in the city so I moved here, hoping to start fresh, but something was wrong. I was no longer a country girl. The townspeople shunned me as an outsider. All I have is this cabin and that stupid Field of Treachery."
"That field used to thrive with vegetation. When some droughts came, the soil dried up and hardened, becoming infertile and barren."
"You know, when I was in the city, a guy taught me how to make cranes out of paper." Sierra took out a square sheet of paper and folded a paper crane. She handed it to John.
"Can you show me how to do that?"
"Of course." She got another sheet and helped him to make a crane. When he was done, he gave it to her.
"Well, it's not as good as the one you made, but. . ."
"I love it. I used to make them all the time. I perfected it after a while."
"But you can't make a perfect crane out of paper. There's no such thing as perfect paper cranes, only perfect cranes."
Sierra nodded. "You know, if you gently pull on the head and the tail, you can make the wings flap up and down." She demonstrated to the amusement of her new companion.
"It looks like it's dancing." John made his paper crane dance along with hers.
She smiled and looked at the crane she had made. "With what I have, this is the best I can do."
"Believe me, Sierra, it's not."
She noticed a ring on John's thumb. "What's that ring you're wearing?" She pointed at his hand.
"Oh, this is a friendship ring my mom gave me. My grandpa gave it to my grandma, who gave it to my mother."
"My mother never gave me anything."
John took the ring off his thumb and put it in her palm. "I want you to have it."
"Are you trying to make me cry? Is that what you want?"
"Sometimes it's best to. I'd rather you cry just once while we're together than laugh a million times alone."
"This is the best gift that anyone has ever given to me." She tried it on each of her fingers, but it was too big for her. A tear rolled down her chin.
"Don't worry, Cloudy Eyes. I have a chain at home that I can give you so you can wear it as a necklace."
"Thank you, John. I will never take it off."
"I should get going or I'll be late for work."
"Before you go, I want to give you something from by rose garden." She plucked an unopened rosebud from her rosebush and handed it to John.
"What's this for?"
"You'll see."
That night, John put the crane she had made on his desk. He grabbed the chain and decided to surprise her by bringing it over. When John got to the cabin, he knocked on the door. There was only silence. He turned the doorknob and opened the door only to see that she was gone. He went into the forest, knowing that it would be almost impossible to find her in the dark.
"God, please let her be okay." He looked up at the sky.
"Lord, as I stand here, under your sky, looking for a lucky star to guide me, I see just how big the universe really is." He put the rosebud in his breast pocket and the chain around his neck to free his hands so that he could search through the dense foliage.
"Father, I am going to wear this chain around my neck until I see her again and I have faith that I will not be wearing it for the rest of my life."
He went back to her cabin in hopes that she would return. Putting the rosebud in a vase on her window sill, he prayed, "Please give me a sign that she's alright." He fell asleep there in her chair.
The next morning, he got up and saw that the rosebud had bloomed over night. "Thank you, God. I know you have given me a sign that I will find her." He left the cabin and went to the field. That's when he saw her.
Out on the other side of the field he saw her body lying on the ground. He ran up to her and saw that she was next to a puddle of water. In her hand was a bucket.
"Sierra!" He sat next to her and pulled her hand into his. It was warm. She was bleeding badly from a wound on the back of her head. He let a tear fall and then her eyes opened.
"Hey there, Cloudy Eyes," she whispered.
"Don't move too much, Sierra. You've lost a lot of blood. You can make it, but we have to. . ."
"Every second that goes by uncherished is a second lost. I've lost no time with you. I remember the rest of that bedtime story. One day another orange comes by. 'What does orange rhyme with?' 'Why, of course, it rhymes with orange.' The orange was overwhelmed with joy and the two looked quite nice while sitting together. It seems the only thing to rhyme with orange is another orange."
John wiped the tears from his eyes. "I have that chain to give you." He took it off his neck. She handed him the ring which he slipped onto the chain to attach around her neck.
She smiled. "You were right. Making paper cranes is not the best I can do. I've decided to flood this field and soften the soil. I couldn't wait until morning so I went out in the dark with my bucket. I didn't get much done before I slipped and hit my head on a rock."
"Believe me, you've done much more than you know."
Sierra smiled weakly and never took her next breath. John held her lifeless body in his arms and wept.
Later he went into a busy part of town. "I need to tell you that Sierra Dophlet is dead. She died while trying to water her field. I want to continue the job she could not finish." The townsfolk murmured amongst themselves.
One of them turned to John. "What good will that do? The soil is too hard to grow anything."
John shook his head. "That field could be fertile again. I'm not going to let her death be for nothing."
One of the young men in the crowd said, "I'll help you." One by one, many volunteered their services. That day the town went to work on the field. Bucket by bucket, they watered it until that night when it was done. Sierra's body was cremated and it was decided that her ashes would be spread on the field in the morning.
The next morning, John got up in front of the gathering at the field to eulogize Sierra.
"I only knew Sierra Dophlet for a few short hours, but in that time, I learned that it is easy to laugh and to cry, but to find someone with whom you can laugh and for whom you would cry is rare."
John then opened the urn and poured its contents onto the flooded field which was a mirror for the sunrise. As the ripples from the fallen ashes spread across the surface of the water, they disturbed a crane which had been resting. It took flight. Before the eyes of the entire town, John's dream came true. John finally realized the meaning behind the giving of the unopened rosebud.
The field was sewn with crops and had a plentiful harvest the year later. The flooding of the field became a yearly ritual in preparation for the next planting season. Each year, more and more cranes came to stop and rest in the waters of what became known as Sierra Haven.
The Dance Of The Paper Cranes
In the small rural town of Houterray, John Garischen dreamed of the day he would see a crane up close. Every year when the days began to get shorter, he would look to the sky to see the passing of the migrating cranes.
At the outskirts of the town lived a young lady by the name of Sierra Dophlet who stayed by herself in a little cabin by the barren Field of Treachery. She never left her house and the townsfolk left her alone. Each week, John put a basket of food on her front porch because he had known her father before he had died.
One afternoon, as he went to make the drop off, he saw that her door was open. He heard a voice whisper, "Please don't leave me."
"Sierra?"
"I don't want to be alone."
"I brought you some. . ."
"I know. Please come and sit for a while."
"I haven't been in here since before your father. . ."
"Since he died. You knew my father?"
"Farmer Dophlet is what I used to call him. I used to help him reap during the harvest season."
"He loved that field of his. That's why my mother left him. When I was only five, she took me to live in Tucson." I always resented being taken away from my dad."
"He was a good man."
"He used to read me a bedtime story called, 'With What Shall Orange Rhyme?' I don't remember how it went."
"'Once there was an orange. It was nice and round like an orange should be.'"
Sierra's eyes lit up. "You've heard it?"
"Oh yeah, it used to be my favorite," John grinned.
"Mine too. The orange was looking for something to rhyme with orange."
"'Well, it doesn't rhyme with me,' said the tree quite rudely," John quoted from memory.
Sierra laughed. "Oh, then he talks to that cat who starts bragging about all the things with which cat rhymes."
John couldn't help but to laugh himself. "I could just see a cat doing that, you know?"
Sierra's face became serious as she remembered the next part of the story. "The rock says, 'Don't you know that nothing rhymes with orange?'"
"I usually fell asleep by that point," John lied.
"Sometimes I feel just like that orange. I had always wished that the migrating cranes would stop to rest here, but no one else I know seems to care."
"Every year, when the leaves start to change color, I watch for the cranes. All my life I've wanted to see one up close. No one in this town seems to believe that it can ever happen. They used to, but for the longest time, I thought I was the only one who still believed."
"My dad used to promise me that one day they would come, but when I moved to the city, I lost all hope."
"Is that why you moved back here?"
"When my dad died, he left the field and the cabin to me. I was never happy in the city so I moved here, hoping to start fresh, but something was wrong. I was no longer a country girl. The townspeople shunned me as an outsider. All I have is this cabin and that stupid Field of Treachery."
"That field used to thrive with vegetation. When some droughts came, the soil dried up and hardened, becoming infertile and barren."
"You know, when I was in the city, a guy taught me how to make cranes out of paper." Sierra took out a square sheet of paper and folded a paper crane. She handed it to John.
"Can you show me how to do that?"
"Of course." She got another sheet and helped him to make a crane. When he was done, he gave it to her.
"Well, it's not as good as the one you made, but. . ."
"I love it. I used to make them all the time. I perfected it after a while."
"But you can't make a perfect crane out of paper. There's no such thing as perfect paper cranes, only perfect cranes."
Sierra nodded. "You know, if you gently pull on the head and the tail, you can make the wings flap up and down." She demonstrated to the amusement of her new companion.
"It looks like it's dancing." John made his paper crane dance along with hers.
She smiled and looked at the crane she had made. "With what I have, this is the best I can do."
"Believe me, Sierra, it's not."
She noticed a ring on John's thumb. "What's that ring you're wearing?" She pointed at his hand.
"Oh, this is a friendship ring my mom gave me. My grandpa gave it to my grandma, who gave it to my mother."
"My mother never gave me anything."
John took the ring off his thumb and put it in her palm. "I want you to have it."
"Are you trying to make me cry? Is that what you want?"
"Sometimes it's best to. I'd rather you cry just once while we're together than laugh a million times alone."
"This is the best gift that anyone has ever given to me." She tried it on each of her fingers, but it was too big for her. A tear rolled down her chin.
"Don't worry, Cloudy Eyes. I have a chain at home that I can give you so you can wear it as a necklace."
"Thank you, John. I will never take it off."
"I should get going or I'll be late for work."
"Before you go, I want to give you something from by rose garden." She plucked an unopened rosebud from her rosebush and handed it to John.
"What's this for?"
"You'll see."
That night, John put the crane she had made on his desk. He grabbed the chain and decided to surprise her by bringing it over. When John got to the cabin, he knocked on the door. There was only silence. He turned the doorknob and opened the door only to see that she was gone. He went into the forest, knowing that it would be almost impossible to find her in the dark.
"God, please let her be okay." He looked up at the sky.
"Lord, as I stand here, under your sky, looking for a lucky star to guide me, I see just how big the universe really is." He put the rosebud in his breast pocket and the chain around his neck to free his hands so that he could search through the dense foliage.
"Father, I am going to wear this chain around my neck until I see her again and I have faith that I will not be wearing it for the rest of my life."
He went back to her cabin in hopes that she would return. Putting the rosebud in a vase on her window sill, he prayed, "Please give me a sign that she's alright." He fell asleep there in her chair.
The next morning, he got up and saw that the rosebud had bloomed over night. "Thank you, God. I know you have given me a sign that I will find her." He left the cabin and went to the field. That's when he saw her.
Out on the other side of the field he saw her body lying on the ground. He ran up to her and saw that she was next to a puddle of water. In her hand was a bucket.
"Sierra!" He sat next to her and pulled her hand into his. It was warm. She was bleeding badly from a wound on the back of her head. He let a tear fall and then her eyes opened.
"Hey there, Cloudy Eyes," she whispered.
"Don't move too much, Sierra. You've lost a lot of blood. You can make it, but we have to. . ."
"Every second that goes by uncherished is a second lost. I've lost no time with you. I remember the rest of that bedtime story. One day another orange comes by. 'What does orange rhyme with?' 'Why, of course, it rhymes with orange.' The orange was overwhelmed with joy and the two looked quite nice while sitting together. It seems the only thing to rhyme with orange is another orange."
John wiped the tears from his eyes. "I have that chain to give you." He took it off his neck. She handed him the ring which he slipped onto the chain to attach around her neck.
She smiled. "You were right. Making paper cranes is not the best I can do. I've decided to flood this field and soften the soil. I couldn't wait until morning so I went out in the dark with my bucket. I didn't get much done before I slipped and hit my head on a rock."
"Believe me, you've done much more than you know."
Sierra smiled weakly and never took her next breath. John held her lifeless body in his arms and wept.
Later he went into a busy part of town. "I need to tell you that Sierra Dophlet is dead. She died while trying to water her field. I want to continue the job she could not finish." The townsfolk murmured amongst themselves.
One of them turned to John. "What good will that do? The soil is too hard to grow anything."
John shook his head. "That field could be fertile again. I'm not going to let her death be for nothing."
One of the young men in the crowd said, "I'll help you." One by one, many volunteered their services. That day the town went to work on the field. Bucket by bucket, they watered it until that night when it was done. Sierra's body was cremated and it was decided that her ashes would be spread on the field in the morning.
The next morning, John got up in front of the gathering at the field to eulogize Sierra.
"I only knew Sierra Dophlet for a few short hours, but in that time, I learned that it is easy to laugh and to cry, but to find someone with whom you can laugh and for whom you would cry is rare."
John then opened the urn and poured its contents onto the flooded field which was a mirror for the sunrise. As the ripples from the fallen ashes spread across the surface of the water, they disturbed a crane which had been resting. It took flight. Before the eyes of the entire town, John's dream came true. John finally realized the meaning behind the giving of the unopened rosebud.
The field was sewn with crops and had a plentiful harvest the year later. The flooding of the field became a yearly ritual in preparation for the next planting season. Each year, more and more cranes came to stop and rest in the waters of what became known as Sierra Haven.
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