Writing Group XXVI: Short Story

Hello all! I have been writing even if I haven’t shared anything recently. I was really happy with the story below. The prompt was actually a call back to one of the original ones. We picked color swatches and used the names in the story. In writing this, I wanted it to be almost like a fairy-tale: full of advice and warnings.

Let me know what you think in the comments and happy reading!

Do you know the tale of the deep viridian forest? The forest is now a place of fear but was not always. Its dark depths unmapped by cartographers, unseen by men. Among the shadows the witches thrive in a wary watchfulness, dancing beneath the shade of moss covered trees. The ancient bark is gray beneath generations of lichen. Silver moon and gentle sun beams filtered through the verdant canopy, dappling the ground at their roots. 

The witches live in harmony with the flora, harvesting only what they need for their spells. Cultivating herbs and grains in bright glades between the giant trees. Their companions are the wolves and big cats of the deep woods with eyes of ruby and gold as they reflect the glint of silver moon beams. Bright petals of the cyclamen pink, pale blue forget-me-nots, and yellow sunflowers adding brightness to their hidden homes. 

Once they lived in wide cabins in the glades near the forest edge. People flocked to them and their power, seeking magical solutions to the problems of life. The witches provided small spells and potions or protections to seekers for a small fee. Things they could not get themselves, precious stones, silks, herbs from distant lands. They were a power and the king feared them. When the sun was hot and the juneberries ripe, his knights in shining mail came to the glades on the edge of the wood. They retreated with their once bright swords crimson, smoke curled above the trees, the corvid circled and the knights’ numbers were diminished, their chainmail darkened, their lifespans diminished even as they stepped back onto the grassland plains on the forest’s edge. The crushed juneberries adding a cloying sweet scent to the smoke of burned lives and iron tang of blood

The once bright witches, who had been happy to help most who asked, slipped into the heart of the forest. They escaped to survive, to heal, to rebuild. Now those that seek their assistance must brave the dark woods. The supplicant must appease the guardian wolves and big cats. If they do not lose their way, if they do not become prey, then they can offer up a gift to the witches of the deep wood. If the witches accept the gift then supplicants may ask one boon and if it is in their power, the witches will grant it. 

Be brave my daughter if you seek them, bring a gift that will please them, and remember that to keep the boon, you must escape the forest.  

Thank you KW Photography for allowing me to use your wonderful photos!

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