Strength of Spirit

It isn’t about how strong the thing is.

It’s not about the body. Not about the mind. Not about the heart.

It’s not about that at all.

Soul.

It’s all about the spirit.

Strength of the spirit, to be precise.

How strong is a thing’s spirit? That’s what decides what it becomes. Who it becomes.

Who it challenges.

Who it takes.

Who falls for its cunning.

The strength of your spirit decides whether you fall for the voice.

Or not. Continue reading “Strength of Spirit”

Cold Comes the Lie

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”

What The Smoke Says

When I see the red smoke, I count the tendrils.

Every time.

And, every time, the number is smaller. The smoke climbing higher. The days drawing closer.

They will come for me.

Three tendrils.

Two tendrils.

Tomorrow.

They will come for me.

And, when they do, I’ll be waiting.

I’ll be waiting. Continue reading “What The Smoke Says”

Falling To Fate

“I don’t believe in fairytales,” he grumbled over the lip of his pint. Already drowning in the liquid, as this wasn’t his first drink.

Hell, it wasn’t even his second, or third.

It was his fifteenth.

I swear, that wolf can really put ’em away.

“I don’ believe in ’em, ya hear me?” He growled, his claws digging into the metal.

“Aye, I hear ya. Drink that up bud, and then be on your way. The hunters will be out soon.”

“Hrggh,” he grumbled.

But he did as he was told. Bless his tired, drunk soul.

Sitting up, he tipped his drink all the way back. Guzzling it like a pro, very little sloshing out the sides of his snout.

When it was gone, he slammed it down like any lad would, wiped his face-fur on his sleeve, threw a few coins down, saluted, and then stumbled his way out the door.

“Is he always like that?” the kid at the bar asked as the wolf tumbled into the night.

I shrugged. “Just when he stumbles across kids in red hoods.”

“What’s he mean, he don’t believe in fairytales?”

I shrugged. Pretended not to know. Then went about my business. Cleaning mugs, refilling drinks.

It was dishonest of me, sure, but.

It wasn’t really my place to tell the kid that the Big Bad Wolf doesn’t believe in himself.

Was it? Continue reading “Falling To Fate”

Dead Forest

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 know.

And still.

They’re mad at me.

Me!

Ridiculous.

I seriously don’t understand this town. Continue reading “Dead Forest”

Walk in the Dark

There was fire in the woods. A slow building plume of smoke rose, signaling that they were out there, somewhere.

Who?

Who was out there, you ask?

Nobody you’d want to find, that’s for sure. Continue reading “Walk in the Dark”

Wolf of the Winter Wood

I had always thought I liked winter best. The way the cold pricks at your nose, keeps your senses sharp. Covers the ground with white, dusting away what once was in favor of what could be. A clean slate with the death of the past. Of what was.

Yeah, I liked winter best.

In all honesty, I think I still do.

But.

There was one thing I forget to account for.

Winter is so, so cold. Continue reading “Wolf of the Winter Wood”

Summer Soul

Frost. Snow. Ice.

Staples of winter.

When the wind bites, and the trees shudder, winter has set in. It isn’t all bad, winter is a time of rest. As it should be. One requires rest before they can obtain renewal.

However.

Rest is not permanent. It is the task, but not the goal.

Renewal.

That is the goal.

Warmth stretching your muscles, soothing your bones. A time for heat to seep in, keep your blood pumping. Keep you alive. Heat to bring warmth, to bring light.

Summer to soothe your soul.

That’s the goal.

A place of renewal.

That’s the goal. Continue reading “Summer Soul”

Keep Singing

They say you should never wander into the forest alone.

I don’t know why, exactly. Maybe they feel that it’s safer if there’s two of you. That way, if one of you gets mauled by a manticore, the other can scream.

That’s the only way I can logic it, anyhow.

But, as I said:

They say you should never wander into the forest alone.

But.

I’m not really alone.

Am I? Continue reading “Keep Singing”

Tired

I think I was just tired.

Tired of the fear.

Tired of the waiting.

Tired of trying to gain something that never really mattered in the first place. Something I didn’t need to find with them. Something that was more easily found elsewhere.

Yeah.

I was probably just tired. Continue reading “Tired”