Origins of the Peridot Keeper Society

Several months passed since Kee, the Purple One, said goodbye to its bearded friend. Sadness spread from one human to the next, but lasted briefly. Humans understood they were no different from the bearded man. One day – perhaps one day soon – their Peridot would leave them as well. No one could break the forceful pull of the Peridot’s animal instinct. Every human agreed, at least to themselves, that once a Peridot leaves their care, it may be gone but never is it forgotten. Happy moments are just a memory away.

By this time, humans tended to dozens if not hundreds of Peridots. Most left to their new habitats, but some – the younger ones – relished the care from their human friends. While the humans gradually expanded their reach, open land was still sparse. Nomads stumbled upon Peridots and their human friends. So charmed were they that they decided to stay and forge their own bonds with these magical creatures, in hopes to flourish with them. And flourish they did.

A human seldom left their Peridot’s side for more than an hour or two. They had learned the lesson of the bearded man and Kee, that night in the woods, and wished for it not to happen again.

But wishes aren’t always fulfilled.

One day, a windstorm swept through the grounds. Wooden bowls, uneven and coarsely fashioned, whisked away into bushes, mud, and streams. Countless blue tomatoes, prickly beets, and spring onions scattered away, nowhere to be seen. Not even a stem or seed was left behind. Humans attempted to regather what was lost, but they came up empty-handed. These humans – now twenty-eight in total – traveled their own ways to find food. They expected their time away to be no more than an hour.

Each human discovered they had to go deep into different parts of the forest to find fruits and vegetables. When a human found one fruit, another was nearby. And then another. And then another. The bounty was plentiful. Many of the humans attempted to return home soon thereafter, only to find nightfall obscuring their way back. Others journeyed deeper into the forest to see what else they could find. It was the next morning when a handful of humans returned to the grounds. Before them—

Peridots surrendered to the throes of a deep slumber. Their enormous eyelids fluttered – some gently, some in rhythmic fury. Bellies protruded with every inhale and declined with every exhale. One could hear snoring. Well … more like muffled rumbles, high-pitched and nasal, that, after a while, took on a faint melody. The pattern of these sleeping Peridots comprised a large circle. It shone a motley of colors more vivid than a rainbow.

But the quiet was deceptive and did not bring happiness, for the Peridots refused to wake.

The humans tried whispering, rubbing the Peridots’ bellies, clapping loudly, and stomping their feet. Not a single eye of a Peridot opened. When more humans arrived with their bounties, they tended to every Peridot within sight and conducted the same acts of whispers and belly rubs and more. But the snoring increased – more in unison, more nasal, and louder than before.

When the final stragglers arrived, every human tended to their sleeping beauties, nudging them persistently, desperately. It took several hours of this until Olo, a Peridot with white limbs and white circles throughout its yellow body, yawned in the arms of its human friend. Its eyelids slowly lifted. Before Olo now was the thankful smile of its best friend. So happy was Olo that it spun up and around and plopped itself upon the belly of a dark red Peridot, who awoke in a frenzy and startled the others from their slumber.

Each one delighted in the sight of their human and reveled in the joy of their kinship. That evening, the humans agreed to prevent the next mass slumber of Peridots at all costs. Humans possessed few words to express themselves back then, but they knew enough to hallow three vows for the Peridot species.

#1: If humans need to explore surrounding lands without their Peridots, at least half of them must stay behind to assure the safety and comfort of their magical friends.

#2: No human can be gone from their Peridot for more than one day.

#3: Humans must always show their Peridots love and kindness and help them prosper as a species.

Thereafter, the humans called themselves Keepers of Peridots. This designation – similar to “parent” or “best friend” – was not just a title but also a promise, and it endured without dispute or uncertainty.

Every Peridot was protected.

And cared for.

And loved.

Note from the Peridot Keeper Society:

Dear Reader,

PKS here. We just wanted to pop in and update you on this newly restored chapter of the Peridoctus.

We believe that the Peridot species, when left unattended by every keeper within the same time frame, will fall into a mass hibernation. In fact, Fasciana’s pages (which we’ll reveal over time) indicate that Peridots, in various stages of human history, have gone through mass hibernation.

We should also note that the Peridot Keeper Society is somewhat a successor of the “Keepers of Peridots,” but this is coincidental.

During an archaeological dig in Mauritania over a decade ago, researchers unearthed a damaged tome entitled The Peridoctus. They were confounded by their new discovery, but ultimately grew unconvinced of this bestiary’s impact upon human history. Its descriptions of otherworldly creatures were met with great laughter. The researchers sold it to a nearby antiquarian bookseller, and, for ten years, it collected dust in the “Oddities” section … until an amateur cryptozoologist from New Jersey (Dabnis Pryor) stumbled upon it on vacation.

Its pages enthralled him and compelled him into believing that these were no make-believe creatures; Peridots are real. Mr. Pryor then vowed to make it his life’s work to let the world know about the creatures of the Peridoctus and its mysterious author, Fasciana de Saggia (aka Fasciana the Wise).

Upon his return to the U.S., Mr. Pryor posted self-made illustrations of the species in online forums. These devotees, though small in number, informally called themselves the Peridot Appreciation Society. Passionate as they were, these members tirelessly scoured the internet for any evidence of Peridot existence … but to no avail.

Then one day in 2022, there was a sighting of a Peridot in Malaysia. And then in Singapore. Soon thereafter, countless people spotted Peridots in cities and towns across Norway, Denmark, and Australia. Soon, snapshots of colorful Peridots flooded the online forum. This, the watershed moment the Society was waiting for.

Now people all across the world needed guidance to care for their new friends, so they turned to the Peridot Appreciation Society. Its members possessed instant access to the Peridoctus and, with it, a unique look into the history and behaviors of the species. Steadily, the members spouted off advice and best practices to all those taking care of Peridots.

Everyone in the Society quickly felt a growing need to define their role. “What do we call ourselves?” they asked online. “Owners?” Nah – too one-sided. “Parents?” Well, humans didn’t give birth to the Peridots, so …

On the forums, people often used the word “keep” to express their daily tending to their Peridots. To keep Peridots safe and secure. To keep an eye out. To keep Peridots developing the way that they should be. The role was now clear: Keeper.

And so, the Peridot Keeper Society (“PKS”) was born.

The Keepers of Peridots remain an inspiration to us, particularly with their three vows. We took them a step further to define the roles of the PKS as follows: to educate people on how to care for Peridots; to plan and promote events and activities for humans and Peridots to participate in together; and to preserve Peridot history through the restoration and interpretation of the Peridoctus.

So that’s our story! Thank you for your continued support of Peridots, and stay tuned for more updates on the Peridoctus.

Yours Truly,

PKS