When the night waned, and the moon was full, I heard it calling on the wind.
I heard the wolf song.
Old and enchanted. Lilting and intoning. Bidding me to run, to hide, to go forth. Bidding that I get up, that I not be still, that I look.
That I find.
Follow the hollow in the forest’s mound,
Follow it deep, deep underground.
Wolves tell the tales of the things hiding in the dark,
Wolves tell because others cannot, death to the lark.
Death to the lark.
Continue reading “Wolf Song”
It was a leaf.
One singular leaf.
And it fell.
Speaking only in a whisper as it went. Its last cry carried on the wind that took it from its place, its home. It was just the one leaf, falling through the breeze. Calling to me, warning me, as it did.
He is not the same.
That’s what the leaf said.
He is not who you think him to be.
Was the echo the wind gave. Words that spoke of fall, of seasons changing. Words that carried truth to them. A resounding, hollow ring.
I will tell you something that few know:
A forest on the verge of death can only speak truth. It has been that way since always. Since forever. An ancient law, as old and bright as the sun. Which is how I knew:
He was not who I thought he was. Continue reading “Cold Comes the Lie”
It was dark. Hollow.
As I took the steps precariously with my limited eyes, I could feel them. Boring into me. Stars that winked, even in the dark. Unseen eyes that knew what I did not. Whose eyes understood further than my own could ever hope to reach.
Those eyes on me—knowing, waiting, watchful eyes—I continued the dark trek.
Entering the Temple of the Moon. Continue reading “The Moonlands”
“What is it?”
I can say nothing.
I don’t know what it is. Why I’ve stopped dead in my tracks. Where that tugging sensation came from, or who. All I know is:
I felt it.
Beating along this string tether. Making my stomach quake. The hollows of my bones sing as the wind breezes through me, and I feel the drum beat in time with my heart.
No, I say nothing.
I’ve no idea what this is. Continue reading “Waking Willows”
There are rules to dark forests.
Rule number one: never take directions from an owl. Trust me, just… don’t.
Rule number two: never stoop to pick up anything shiny. If it’s not a trap, then the shiny thing is almost certainly cursed. Either way, it doesn’t end well for you.
And, rule number three:
Never turn your back to a dead tree.
Continue reading “Beware the Trees”
It wasn’t easy to get here.
The path is narrow, full of holes. Every step was marred—echoed, really—by the steps of the jungle beasts. By the creatures of this magical forest. I could hear their cries at night, and feel their eyes watching in the day. At some point, the trees gave up on me, gave in. Began reaching for me, choking up on the path ahead. Trying to prevent me from going forward.
Yes, it wasn’t easy getting here.
Not in the slightest.
When the sleeper wakes…
It will be worth it.
Continue reading “Sleeping Wishes”
“Did you see it?! Did you see?!”
“I knew it! I was right, wasn’t I? It’s a ghost, right? Right?”
Looking back at the house—the empty mansion that sat in between the clearing and the woods—I saw the eyes again. In the upper floor’s window, I saw the yellow eyes. The lingering feeling of something lost. Of something in need of being found.
I could not say what it was.
“I don’t think it’s a ghost,” I said, crushing my friend’s hopes and dreams, quite coincidentally, really. “It doesn’t feel like a ghost.”
Ghosts don’t have that feeling of needing to be found, do they? When a ghost lingers, they linger for a reason. They aren’t lost, they don’t need to be found. They simply wish to be left to their own purposes. Left to fulfill their perceived duty.
They don’t look lost.
They don’t need to be found.
And they don’t look scared out of their whits.
Do they? Continue reading “Lost, But Not Found”
They had always warned me about the forest spirits. Some called them faeries, some simply called them spirits, and others refused to speak of them at all. But they lived in the forest, and no one doubted their existence.
They were real alright.
They were fearsome creatures. That’s what I’d always heard. They could tear you to pieces, mentally and physically, in the blink of an eye. They were not to be trifled with.
Not to be trusted.
But, I’ve always been a little hardheaded. A little stubborn.
So, of course, I went looking for one.
And I found one.
Oh, I found one.
At first, I thought it was wonderful—to be friends with a faerie.
…I’m not so sure. Continue reading “Fearful Friend”
I’ve never understood this town. Lived here all my life, and still, I don’t get it.
What do they expect?
This town is right on the edge of Dead Forest. They know that bad things come out of those woods. They know about the dark magic lurking in the pines. They know it drives men mad.
They’re mad at me.
I seriously don’t understand this town. Continue reading “Dead Forest”
The door was closed.
The fox had the key.
A thief of nature. An ancient burglar. Quick-witted, swift. A natural in the forest.
The fox had the key.
In a forest filled with candles. Brightly lit against the dusk, the falling sky. They glowed gently, shimmered. Lit the fox’s eyes so I knew exactly what he was thinking.
It wasn’t good.
Continue reading “Wax Forest, The Fox, and Me”