Last time I wrote, I mentioned that I had been writing more short stories, both as writing practice and as a way of putting some of the ideas rattling around in my head onto paper.
The short below is one I wrote during the end of NaNoWriMo. I let it sit for a while, then did a quick proofread before deeming it ready to head out into the big wide world. I have kept reworking this piece on the lighter side. The idea was to avoid overthinking.
NaNoWriMo ended up working well following the write what I can manage concept. I wrote 10,000 words at the end of a very busy month and I consider that a success.
I will update further in the new year. Until then, stay safe, and enjoy my short story.
Greinewood
The forest stood like a blot of darkness between the streetlights. The upper branches of the trees reached into the sky, black silhouettes against red sunset clouds. This was the kind of forest that was welcoming in the day with its warm mosses and sunbeams, but as night fell the dark branches clacked together as if to warn unwary strangers. Stay away, they seemed to say.
This particular stretch of forest was not without its fair share of folklore, either. Dusk was a special moment, a thinning between the otherworld and the mortal realm. As the last rays of sunlight snuck below the horizon, the shadows stretched out from the forest. Their dark fingers swaying in the breeze as the space between the footpath and first tree trunk hovered on a thread of liminality.
Eolande stood under a streetlight. The wind tugged at the faux fur on the collar of her coat as the soft glow of her phone screen illuminated her face. Thinly disguised streaks of mascara smudged her cheeks. Tonight had been a disaster. She pulled her hands deeper into her sleeves, allowing only the tips of her fingers to stick out against the persistent, chilly wind that danced across them.
She zoomed the maps app out, taking note of the forty-five minute walk home along the outside of the tree line. Zooming back in, she saw what looked like a small dotted path through the green of the trees. She tapped her finger against her screen with increasing frustration as the app stubbornly refused to redirect her route and tell her how long it would take.
She raised her eyes from the screen and cast them along the treeline. Very little stood out in the mass of leaves that swayed and tumbled in the darkness. As she ran her eyes back along the treeline the edge of a pale wooden sign, peering out from behind the leaves of a small bush, caught her eye. Her phone torch revealed the beginning of a gravel path by the sign.
She gingerly picked her way through the damp grass to the sign. It was well-maintained and a thick coat of dark green paint filled the carved words that read Greinewood Track. Carved below the title, read Cara Road connection 10mins with an arrow pointing into the forest. Pulling up the map again and zooming in to the end of the track, Eolande realised with satisfaction that she knew her way home from Cara Road. It was not far.
The path was uneven at first and the heels on her boots were ill-suited for navigating tree roots. However, after a time, she became accustomed to watching her step in the small circle of torchlight. For a time, the only sound that interrupted the rustle of leaves and clatter of branches in the wind were the occasional car passing by on the road. As Eolande ventured further into the forest, even those faded away until she was left with only her thoughts. She supposed she should be frightened, walking alone on this dark track. But she wasn’t. If anything, she felt more peaceful than she had all evening. At this time, she was supposed to be celebrating her birthday with her so-called friends. The hurt and anger at what had happened faded, as if blown away by the wind. Somewhere, deep in the forest, an owl hooted.
The simple monotony of the walk stretched on, each new corner in the track prolonging her return to reality for a moment longer. Her boots were beginning to pinch her toes and she slowed to give herself a chance to find a log or something to sit on for a minute to rest. As she scanned the sides of the path, her eyes caught on a purple petunia. The flower lay alone on the side of the path, the deep purple of its petals standing out starkly from the brown earth that skirted the grey stones of the path.
She bent to pick it up. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.” The words slipped quietly out of her mouth.
Never thank the good folk, lest they believe you owe them something in return.
She shrugged and slipped the flower loosely through a buttonhole on her coat. The stem was solid and the petals showed few signs of wilting.
Checking the time, she realised she had been walking for close to ten minutes already. Buoyed on by the realisation that she must be close to home, she began to walk again. The map suggested she was perhaps not as far as she thought. The track followed parallel to the road for a time before twisting deeper into the trees, then finally looping around to the road end. She peered up the gentle incline to her right. A streetlight flickered through the swaying leaves. It would be easier to carefully make her way to the top. Her map agreed that she would be closer to home this way.
Never leave the path.
She hesitated with one foot still on the path. If climbing the hill proved too difficult, she could always come back and take the long route. Tiny twigs tried to pluck onto threads of her clothing as she pushed past and carefully felt for each new foothold in her heels. She smiled at the absurdity of the situation. This was exciting. Her feet would be sore for her shift tomorrow, another in a long list of unremarkable days working retail. She would have to confront her friends about their decision to bail on her birthday outing last-minute, a difficult and unpleasant conversation. All that seemed far away. A chuckle escaped out into the forest air and mingled with the whisper of the trees.
The light grew brighter and, as she crested the hill, she found herself face to face with an interesting sight. The light was not, as she had presumed, a streetlight. Instead, a gently glowing ball hovered between two trees that had reached together above the forest floor and inosculated, creating a natural oval between their fused forms. A figure stood beside the trees, watching her approach with gentle curiosity.
“Hello,” she said. A sense of relief flowed through her. She felt like she had finally found something she didn’t know she was searching for.
They peered at her with catlike, violet eyes and extended a hand. “You want to leave, don’t you.”
She nodded.
“What is your name?”
“Eolande.”
“Come with me, Eolande.”
Gingerly at first, then with confidence, she walked forward to meet the figure. Whatever was through the archway between the trees that shared their life sap, that was where she belonged.
She stepped through, and darkness crowded to fill the forest once more.
Creative Adventures 