Ostara a short Story by Alejandro N. Marrero
A long time ago there was much less of you beings throughout the world. The pagans who prayed to me each spring called me Ostara. I would herald the birth of longer days. Dispelling winter slowly by using light to banish the cold away. Not long after things would with a bite of cold in the air with warm sunlight would begin to sprout. Then all of you would gather the flowers as they bloomed throughout. You saw the daffodils, crocuses, iris and lilies as signs of what was to come. You would strew garlands of colorful flowers with ribbons and thank me and the sun. You were my children and I even blessed your wombs, fertility and life. You appreciated the birth of longer days and shorter nights. It was peaceful and for millennia things were blessed this way. Then one day invaders enslaved or murdered most of my followers in the name of their own God’s ways. Now there are billions of beings all over this world. Still, only a handful remember the ways of old. I’ve become a memory to most people on earth. However, like my purpose it isn’t prayers or worship that guided my powers from before. I still make myself known whether you see me or not. I make the days longer after harsh winters in case you forgot. Though now you all have forgotten my name. I am the goddess Ostara and to my joy you still do things the same. When flowers cover fields or forest floors. You still joyfully pluck them, admire them, weave them through your hair and dance to warmth’s lovely return. Though few know my story I’ll keep it brief. I’m the Maiden of Spring and one of many reasons life continues to exist. I harbor no ill will or thoughts driven by wants for power. I’ve never been one for attention or even followers. I know my purpose is spring and summer, winter and fall are my sisters and brothers. One day I’ll tell you about how we four came to be. For now though enjoy the beginning of spring and the flowers I offer every year to thee.